In her consistent and long-standing creative journey, driven by a mission of critiquing social norms, Hava Raucher creates a stunning and multilayered visual dialogue with myths. At the heart of this exhibition is a double anti-mytyhicalmovement — both feminist and morbid. In a vise-like movement, Raucher disrupts established thought-patterns, dismantles ancient beliefs, breaches boundaries, deconstructs myths, and probes exposed human nerves.

​

The first movement is one of life facing the myths of death. The calm that enveloped Raucher as she stood before death, alongside the dread that accompanies the possibility of losing her loved ones, led her to bravely and directly confront the subjects of aging, the withering of life, and death itself. The creative and artistic dialogue that unfolds in this exhibition space invites viewers to engage, if they aretruly ready to converse with death.

​

The second movement is a feminist movement in contrast to the myths of patriarchy. Raucher, who was five years old when Simone de Beauvoir published The Second Sex (1949), relentlessly challenges the cultural and social frameworks that resonate in feminist thought and theory from then to today through her artistic work.

​

This engagement with death has also drawn Raucher into a significant and original creative exploration of aging in women. De Beauvoir pointed out in her book the discriminatory and oppressive thought patterns directed at women, particularly older women, and demonstrated how a woman's status in society is closely tied to her beauty and fertility. The aging female body is marginalized and suppressed, losing its social value. Tal Dekel analyzed the countertrends in feminist art that aim to challenge these outdated ideas, highlighting the urgent need to create a variety of genuine and vibrant images of older women to replace the narrow and negative stereotypes that dominate visual culture today[1].

​

Through her work, Hava Raucher embodies this visual and social vision—her depictions of the aging female body represent not only a figure worthy of attention, respect, and appreciation, but also present, on a physical level, a contemporary social critique.

In response to the conceptual patternsexposed in The Second Sex, Raucher establishes casting molds, using them to shape a multi-medium movement in the gallery. The sculptures of the Amazons are made of iron and cast in these molds. Similarly, the small figures representing her partner, Efraim, are created using the same technique. The sarcophagi—coffins—are made by reversing the mold process, resulting, through a reversal of life and death, in a sarcophagus that preserves the living images of herself, Efraim, and a young child. Finally, using these molds, Raucher produces a three-dimensional video image of those who have passed or will pass in those sarcophagi. The video captures, in a striking and haunting way, the figures of a man, a woman, and a child, suspended between the living and the dead.

​

In the entrance area, a series of large-scale paintings on a yellow background creates a semi-fantastical atmosphere using realistic techniques. These paintings feature visual quotes from masterpieces and often include playful elements and humor revealed in deeper layers. Together, they invite viewers in a friendly and compassionate way to explore complex messages that exist in the space between life and the possibility of death.

​

​

Efraim

As visitors enter the exhibition, they are greeted by two paintings and a sculpture featuring Efraim—Raucher's beloved partner of many years. His figure expresses a gut-wrenching confrontation with the possibility of death and the finiteness of those close to us, a scenario that can terrify us even more than the thought of our own mortality. Raucher transforms Efraim into a visual representation of the journey that has shaped her creative work in recent years, giving the exhibition its title, On the Living and the Dead—a reflection of her desire to make peace with death and embrace it.

​

To the left stands Efraim, depicted as both standing (in the painted figure) and sitting hunched over (in the shadow). Cradled in Efraim’s arms is a representation of the Roman philosopher Lucius Annaeus Seneca (4 BCE – 65 CE), quoted from a painting by Peter Paul Rubens. Seneca was a central figure in Stoic philosophy, which held that accepting reality while continuously striving for self-improvement and controlling emotions can lead to true happiness. Regarding death, Seneca wrote: "The man who fears death will never do anything worthy of a man who is alive; but he who knows that these were the conditions drawn up for him when he was conceived will live according to this rule and at the same time, through the same strength of mind, he will ensure that none of what happens to him will come unexpectedly."[2]

​

In Rubens' painting, The Death of Seneca (1612–1613), Seneca takes his own life on the orders of Emperor Nero after being accused of conspiring against him, and faces his death with a stoic calm. In Raucher's depiction, Seneca appears as a suffering martyr, while Efraim smiles serenely. The contrast between the two, along with their similarities, brings a smile to the viewer.

In the painting to the left, Efraim sits in a pail—his mother’s metal laundry basin—either to bathe or to set sail. Next to him is the figure of Jean-Paul Marat, inspired by Jacques-Louis David’s neoclassical painting The Death of Marat (1793). In David's artwork, Marat, who was stabbed while bathing, is portrayed as a martyr and a pure champion of freedom who led the French Revolution and became a victim of his enemies.  In Raucher's version, Marat accompanies Efraim on his journey in the basin, serving as a sort of guardian angel. Once again, the quoted figure is tormented while Efraim smiles. Efraim’s vitality and smile are stronger than the presence of death around him, both in the visible horizon and behind him with his angelic companion.

The figures accompanying Efraim in these two paintings are martyrs, depicted to elevate their names and honor their memory; their deaths portrayed as acts of bravery, sacrifice, and courage. Efraim, standing beside them, does not symbolize death but rather the journey toward it. With his vitality, smile, and acceptance, he embodies life. The elevation of his character lies in how he lives his life and navigates his path, even to the end.

​

Opposite the paintings of Efraim, we are welcomed by his sculpted and friendly figure. His body is bare, showing signs of age and the passage of time, yet his hands are strong, and his stance is steady. As always, he appears pleasant, smiling, and approachable.

​

Unlike other sculptures throughout art history that idealize the male nude to celebrate youth and muscularity, Efraim is depicted in a bold, realistic way that captures beauty, aesthetics, and a sense of acceptance.

​

​

​

The Yellow Series – Paintings of Youth

To the right of the viewer is the mythical symbol of life and patriarchal vitality—two paintings of young, beautiful women straddling the line between childhood and adolescence. Raucher's affection for these figures is evident. Her exploration of aging certainly does not lead her to condemn youth; rather, she paints her granddaughters with great love, celebrating life across all ages.

​

In the first painting of youth, Girl with a Hen, a girl holds a hen close, embracing it like a cherished pet while gazing at the viewer with a defiant look. Surrounding her are the silhouettes of other chickens, shadows that hint at their presence without revealing them fully. Beneath her is the figure of a baby representing Jesus, drawn from Sandro Botticelli's Madonna del Magnificat (1481). The baby gazes up at the girl holding the hen, much like the infant Jesus looks at his mother when she wears the crown of Mother of God. The girl embodies theMother of All Living, a secular Madonna, protecting animals and embracing even those we typically consume. An additional layer of meaning arises from the fact that, unlike Jesus' mother, this girl’s maternal mission is not about childbirth, but about safeguarding nature.

​

In the second painting of youth, Girl Gazing at a Mirror. However, the reflection, along with the shadows, do not match her figure, creating a captivating and intriguing effect. The girl smiles at us while another version of her looks directly into the mirror. Her shadows seem like independent entities—one silhouette stands, while another leans toward the mirror, with the girl herself comfortably positioned between bothhershadows. The mirror is held by an angel, quoted alongside elements from Peter Paul Rubens' painting Venus and Cupid (1606-1611), inspired by Titian.

​

The image of a woman looking into a mirror and examining her appearance is a recurring theme throughout art history, perpetuating the Beauty Myth identified by Naomi Wolf in 1991. This subtle social mechanism, rooted in patriarchal indoctrination, creates a prevailing atmosphere where cultural imagery sends clear messages to women about the connection between their value and their bodies. With their worth tied to their appearance, women become trapped in an endless pursuit of beauty, which inevitably fades with age, leaving them feeling worthless.

​

In this depiction of the girl with the mirror, Raucher takes a subversive approach to the established image of a woman gazing into a mirror—her silhouette leaning toward the mirror reflects the shadows of the past and the eternal scrutiny that women are subjected to in their relentless focus on appearance. However, while the mirror shows the girl, she looks at us, defiantly indifferent to both the mirror and the angel holding it. She smiles, fully aware of her worth without needing to assess her reflection.

​

 

The Yellow Series - The Blessing

In contrast to the two paintings of youth, the painting titled The Blessing features a male figure drenched in a stream of urine emanating from an angelic figure. What might initially seem like an act of defiance and mockery takes on a different meaning when we realize that the angel is quoted from Lorenzo Lotto's painting "Venus and Cupid" (1520).

​

This work, along with other paintings depicting golden drops directed toward a nude woman, echoes a Greek myth found in Book 4 of Ovid's Metamorphoses, which tells tales of Greek and Roman mythology: Jupiter (Zeus) reveals himself to Danaë in the form of golden drops, resulting in her pregnancy and the birth of Perseus.

​

Thus, many works embody this myth of golden drops falling on a nude woman, serving as a symbol of fertility and blessing, but also as a legitimate narrative reason in earlier paintings to depict women in the nude. Raucher employs this myth and subverts it by replacing the image of the woman with a half-naked man, who is now drenched in the “golden shower.”

​

​

The Wall of Death

After encountering works filled with optimism, humor, acceptance, and hope on the walls before him, the viewer will discover that death lies behind them. Against the wall stands a sarcophagus, a burial casket, created from a mold that has been painted in oil colors, containing the figure of Efraim. As the viewer moves around the space and observes the sarcophagus from different angles, the figure within will seem to gaze back at them from every point of view. This morbid element, which maintains a constant connection between the living and the dead, between the viewer and the figure in the casket, is further heightened by the video installation displayed above.

​

In the video installation, the viewer gazes upon the sarcophagi figures of Efraim, the artist herself, and the figure of a child. The camera moves from various angles, yet the connection between the viewer and the gaze of the figures remains constant. The dialogue with death created by these works is chilling and difficult to grasp. The presence of a child in this context is unsettling. But should we be outraged by the artwork, or by the reality of our lives? The figures of the dead are situated within a void, within silence, in a realm beyond time. While it may sometimes seem that the dead communicate with the living through dreams, memories, and pain, these works engage us with the very idea of death—the constant and present possibility of life’s end.

​

​

Snow White and the Seven Dwarves

With death at their back, the viewer enters the second exhibition space and encounters the painting titled Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. From the painting, a woman gazes directly at the viewer, while seven diminutive men are positioned at her feet, staring in wonder at her legs. The nudity of the figures evokes a troubling sense of discomfort, transforming a familiar story into something new. Her hands are outstretched above them, seemingly protective. But is shetruly guarding the "dwarfs," or shielding herself from them? Can this woman, as strong and powerful as she may be, genuinely protect herself from the men surrounding her?

​

​

The Amazon Statues

If female aging is viewed through a patriarchal lens as a reversal of concepts like beauty, relevance, and status, in Raucher's exhibition, aging women are depicted as beings shaped by different ideals—wisdom, authority, beauty, and incisive critique. By their mere existence, these figures challenge the belittling and stereotypical narratives.

​

Raucher refers to her female figures as Amazons, echoing the powerful and fierce warriors of Greek mythology who symbolized feminine strength and rebellion against the patriarchal social order, while simultaneously representing the fear of that order's upheaval. The features of Raucher’s Amazons evoke the visage of the Roman goddess Venus, embodying the beauty and nobility of long-standing patriarchal ideals of femininity.

​

Raucher’s Amazon sculptures, like the other sculptures in the exhibition, may seem delicate but are crafted from aluminum metal and painted with oil colors. In a nearly defiant gesture, and in contrast to the life-sized figures in her paintings, these sculptures are intentionally small, created in child-like proportions. They invite viewers to come closer and engage in intimate observation, revealing the exposed nudity of the aging body, the sometimes reddened, sagging skin, and the cut beneath the left breast—a reference to the Amazon myth where warriors would remove their breasts for better bow and arrow precision. In these sculptures, the Amazon's body represents an older woman, her face is that of an adult, while her height is reminiscent of a ten-year-old girl—thereby embodying women of all ages.

​

The hands of the Amazons stretch upward, yet they are obstructed by large, disembodied hands resting heavily upon them, appearing almost as a natural extension of their forms, and hindering their ability to lift their arms. Who is preventing the Amazons from raising their hands? And why? A closer examination of the green Amazon shows that she holds the key to unlocking the message woven into all the Amazon figures.

 

​

The Bleeding Amazon

With her greenish hue and crown of thorns, the Green Amazon echoes the Statue of Liberty, embodying the liberal values of the West—particularly the rights to life, liberty, and equality— while also reflecting her evolution into a symbol of female empowerment in contemporary social movements. However, Raucher's Green Amazon is wounded, battered, and bleeding. The blood on her thighs and base, along with the reddened tips of her fingers, signifies the sexual trauma she has endured. Did the Green Amazon wish to raise her arms in surrender, or as a gesture of victory? Both possibilities exist, yet the heavy weight pressing upon her leaves no room for expression—neither for pain, nor for surrender, nor for the resilience and survival she embodies.

​

The humanistic values represented by the Amazon are severely damaged. Her injuries reflect not only the violence inflicted upon her but also the silence of those who failed to give her a voice and those who turned away. Raucher channels the pain of the bleeding Amazons as a stark critique of a liberal world that has denied, ignored, and looked away from the sexual violence experienced by women in Israel on October 7, 2023. She powerfully shares with the viewer the amplified trauma that is compounded by those who refuse to acknowledge it and those who do not denounce the harm. The other Amazons, while not visibly injured, also find their hands blocked, symbolizing the solidarity that has been painfully absent.

​

​

Naked Rows

Additional statues representing aging bodies are arranged in rows throughout this space. This visual historical memory echoes images of elderly people waiting in the nude, confronting an uncertain and cruel fate, which intensifies the discomfort elicited by their positioning. While this arrangement intentionally provokes unease, it is not solely directed to the Holocaust imagery ingrained in our collective consciousness. Instead, a broader view of the exhibition's narrative surrounding the confrontation with death emphasizes the ongoing human experience of waiting for our turn in the face of mortality, reflecting an unavoidable personal and collective journey.

​

​

Shattered Amazon

The shattered clay Amazon, bleeding and sprawled on the floor, is the prototype from which the metal Amazons were cast. She represents the final and most striking statement of all—unlike her sisters, she does not stand upright. This is an amputated and disintegrating Amazon, a haunting remnant of the woman she once was and a testament to that which cannot be healed or restored. She embodies pain, trauma, and the unyielding brutality of death itself.

​

​

Self-Portrait with the Birth of Venus

Above the Shattered Amazon, a large triptych looms, featuring three self-portraits of Raucher. The artist integrates herself into William-Adolphe Bouguereau's renowned painting, The Birth of Venus (1879). In this striking reinterpretation, Raucher occupies the space of Venus, the embodiment of ideal beauty, portraying herself in three distinct states: in existential nudity, with a disintegrating body, and wrapped from head to toe, as though mummified for burial. Surrounding her are Bouguereau's cherubic figures. In this audacious and unyielding work, Raucher lays her life-sized form before the scrutinizing gaze of the viewer, inevitably provoking judgment.

​

The viewer's gaze—our gaze—illuminates our preconceived notions about women, aging, and their representation in art. Are we truly prepared to recognize the rightful existence of the aging body, the disintegrating, fading, and dying form? Are we ready to face the reality of decay and the finality of existence, both hers and our own?

​

​

Epilogue

The exhibition is titled On Life and the Dead and is focused on the dead, rather than death itself. While the theme of death looms large over the exhibit, interpreting the work solely in terms of death, as opposed to the dead, would be a mistake; rather, it is the essence of life that infuses this exhibit with meaning. It speaks to the lives of individuals before they passed, to those who continue living after their loved ones have departed, and to those who await their own mortality or the loss of cherished ones, fully aware that death is ever lurking just around the corner. Ultimately, is there anyone untouched by this profound reality?

​

​

​

​

​

[1] Tal Dekel, Gendered - Art and Feminist Theory (Ramat Gan: HaKibbutz HaMeuhad Press, 2011) (Hebrew).; Tal Dekel, Women and Old Age – Gender and Ageism Reflected in Israeli Art (Ra'anana: Lamda Eyun Series - Open University Press, 2020) (Hebrew).

​

[2]Seneca, Dialogues and Essays (London: Penguin Classics, 2004).