hortly after the occupation of Vilna by the Wehrmacht, both of my grandfathers were taken to the Ponari forest and there they shot, together with other Jews. On the following Yom Kippur holiday, both of my grandmothers were also taken to this forest. My father was shot by the Nazis a few days before the liberation of Vilna. I don’t know how, of all people, my mother an I were selected by fate to suvive the liquidation of the ghettos and the labor camps and the various hiding places in which we kept ourselves concealed durring the German occupation. I feel the necessity to remember and take it upon myself to bear witness to the things that happened in those times, so that human beings today and those of tomorrow, if it were only possible, are spared a similar destiny on earth. So I have chosen the way of creating images of a seeming reality, imbuing them with a multitude of layers, from clear and unknown symbols to the most private and intimate feelings of a world that has its own apparent logic. I hope that the complexity of these paintings might go beyond my private story and beyond the vicissitudes that mark the Jewish people and their fate.

                                --From The Past Continues, Pucker Gallery, 1988