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LABA allows her to engage with food and flavors in a more cerebral way. It “brings a level of intellectualism into my baking that is otherwise missing,” she explained. Asked to bring in something based on a text that inspired her, Patinkin blended multiple lessons into one dessert. She noticed that the numbers 3, 5 and 7 kept reappearing in their sources and combined this insight with the talmudic opinion that the fig — and not the apple — was Adam and Eve’s forbidden fruit to make poppy fig hamantaschen, a three-pointed desserts. As Namdar says, “If… we manage to get to a place where she says ‘I’ll bake a fig dessert,’ that is for me a huge success.” It shows that she has managed to forget what she thought she knew about the biblical story, and instead to approach it as a new, careful reader.
Despite the clear signs of artistic influence so far, it’s too early to tell what final projects — which will be displayed in a festival early this summer — the fellowship will inspire.
Eli Valley, who is artist in residence at the Forward as well as a LABA fellow, is in the middle of the creative process. He’s decided to work on the Akkedah (the binding of Isaac) and the animal imagery that follows Jacob throughout his life; it is an extension of a provocative comparison of the idea of birthright in Genesis and The Black Cat Mystery comic “THE WEREWOLF MUST KILL!” he wrote for the LABA Journal.
But he hasn’t decided on the form of his final project. Will it be a comic, like his other work? A presentation? A combination? He is far from conclusions, and if his past creative process says anything about his present one, whatever sources his mind ultimately blends into his final project will come from accidentally finding “nuances/variations” of the theme repeated in other media. “Once you notice things,” he says, “it’s hard to dislodge them from your consciousness.”
Yet, even telling the story of the fellowship based on the final projects seems premature. LABA’s mission is to “use classic Jewish texts to inspire the creation of new art.” The hope, and vision, is that the year at LABA will spark an enduring interest in Jewish sources and influence Jewish culture makers to engage significantly with Judaism in their future work.
Krauss, for example, recently published a story in The New Yorker, “Zusya on the Roof,” that included an arresting house purification ritual from Leviticus, which calls for taking two birds, sacrificing one and letting the other go free. “He never read the passage without crying. But he shall let go the living bird out of the city into the open fields, and make atonement for the house: and it shall be clean.” It was a text she read at LABA.
But does this story, coming so soon after her participation in LABA, show an enduring engagement or a temporary fascination? In 30 years, will Krauss still look back to Leviticus for inspiration?
Or, to return to this year’s fellows: Will Patinkin again look to the Bible for recipe inspiration? Will the midrash be a normal part of finding unexpected flavor combinations? It will be years before we know how the story of this year’s LABA fellowship ends, how, precisely, it inspires its creators.
Eitan Kensky writes about Jewish American literature and popular culture.