If you had told me ten years ago that I would one day become a fine art painter, I might have laughed… or maybe even cried. Because for so long, I believed my life had already been mapped out. I was a successful sheitel stylist, living in Beitar Illit, running a bustling salon, and helping women express their inner beauty through the modest elegance of wigs.It was meaningful work, and I was proud of it. Yet deep down, something was quietly calling to me. Something I had buried beneath years of business, motherhood, and expectation. That call was fine art.
Discovering My Path in Fine Art
Growing up in a Haredi community, I was surrounded by tradition. Life was structured and focused on Torah, mitzvot, and modesty. There wasn’t exactly a gallery scene. I didn’t grow up with exposure to contemporary or classical art. But what I did have was an innate drive to create. I was the girl who played with FIMO while other kids were at the park, who tailored her own clothes as a teen, and who could always see beauty where others saw blank space.
Still, for a long time, I viewed those artistic impulses as hobbies, not a career, and certainly not a life calling. But Hashem has a way of steering us, gently and sometimes unexpectedly, toward who we are meant to be.
The Transition: From Sheitel Salon to Fine Art Studio
The turning point came during a session with a business coach. She asked me to write down what truly inspired me. Not what I thought I should say, but what my soul whispered in quiet moments. Without hesitation, I wrote two words: painting and creation. It was as if my hand moved before my mind could catch up. Suddenly, I saw my truth written in ink.
Within a matter of weeks, I made the most difficult decision of my professional life. I closed my successful salon and walked away from everything I had built for over a decade. It was terrifying, but also exhilarating. I turned the back room of my home into a small studio, bought a few basic materials, and began to paint.
At first, my hands shook. I hadn’t held a paintbrush in years. But with every stroke, I felt something familiar come alive. I remembered why I was called “golden hands” as a child. The brush became my shears; the canvas, my client. This time, however, I was not styling to fit within communal norms. I was creating from my heart, for myself and, I hoped, for others who needed to feel seen and inspired.
It didn’t take long before my work began to resonate. People started buying my pieces. They felt connected not just to the beauty, but to the emotion, the spirituality, and the sophisticated nods to Jewish identity. That was when I realized: this wasn’t just art. This was fine art with a soul.
Rooted in Tradition, Styled for Today
What makes my journey unique, and what defines my work, is this constant dance between reverence and reinvention. I come from one of the most traditional Jewish neighborhoods in the world, yet my art fits just as comfortably on the walls of a modern Tel Aviv apartment as it does in a home in Beitar or Boro Park.
Fine art doesn’t need to scream to be powerful. In fact, my favorite compliment is when someone says my work brings a sense of calm, focus, and elevation to their space. That’s exactly what I strive for: to create an atmosphere where Jewish identity is felt, where modesty meets elegance, and where faith lives beautifully alongside form.
My color palettes often include soft neutrals, creams, blushes, and hints of gold. More than just aesthetic choices, they’re emotional ones. Gold reminds me of divinity. Neutrals represent stillness and simplicity. Each choice is intentional. And while I never set out to make “trendy” work, I do believe that fine art should speak to our generation. It should reflect who we are now, while honoring where we came from.
Running the Distance in Life and Art
Interestingly, my life as a long-distance runner plays a significant role in my art. Running through the hills of Jerusalem, I often find my best ideas. There’s something about the rhythm, the silence, and the sweat that clears the mind and awakens the spirit. When I run, I connect to the land, to Hashem, and to my deepest dreams. Many of my paintings are born on those trails, even before my brush touches the canvas.
Running marathons has taught me discipline, endurance, and faith, three things every artist needs. Just like in training, fine art requires consistency. It’s not about bursts of inspiration; it’s about showing up again and again, refining your craft, and trusting that every step. Every stroke has a purpose.
Fine Art as a Mirror of the Jewish Soul
At its core, my art is about connection. Connection to beauty, to spirituality, to identity, and joy. I want people to look at my work and feel something. Whether it’s a quiet peace, a moment of pride, or a deep, almost unspoken knowing.
In Jewish tradition, creation is holy. Hashem created the world with words, and we continue that act through the things we build, nurture, and imagine. For me, painting is an extension of that divine impulse. It’s not just what I do. It’s who I am.
As I reflect on my journey from sheitels to brushstrokes, I am overwhelmed with gratitude. I am grateful for my roots, for my risks, and for the people who now bring my art into their homes. What began as therapy has become my mission: to create fine art that honors our past, celebrates our present, and beautifies our future.
Whether you come from the mountains of Jerusalem, the brownstones of Brooklyn, or the avenues of Paris, I hope you see yourself in my work. And more than that, I hope you feel at home.
