Art as Avodah: A Visual Conversation with Tobi Kahn

Tobi Kahn’s art lives in two worlds. His paintings of expansive oceanic horizons, akin to the color field works of Mark Rothko, hang in the collections of major museums. His large body of sculpture and ceremonial Judaica, on the other hand, exists in the lived experience of people who visit the sacred spaces he has created around the country, and in private homes where they are used in ritual practice.

Kahn, who was raised in an Orthodox family and attended Jewish day school and yeshiva in Israel, has used his unique position to build bridges. As co-founder of the Avoda Project, he taught thousands of university students of all races and religions to make their own ceremonial objects; he also co-founded the Artists’ Beit Midrash in New York City, a program that encourages fine artists to engage with sacred Jewish texts. His current exhibit, “Memory and Inheritance,” the culmination of four decades of work, combines his paintings and his Judaica. On view through November 10, 2024, it is housed in the Museum at Eldridge Street, a historic Manhattan synagogue.

You often use the Hebrew word avodah to describe your work. Why?

Sometimes a Hebrew word can carry a range of meanings that have no equivalent in English.

Avodah was the service of the priests in the Holy Temple; then there’s avodah in its meaning of work; and the word is also used for prayer or worship. My avodah is through art, but everyone does avodah.

You’re most famous for your “Sky & Water” paintings, which have no obvious connection to Judaism. You’ve also made mezuzah cases, Omer counters, and memorial lights. How do you define Jewish art? 

I’m Jewish, so my work is Jewish. But if you say you’re a Jewish artist, it could mean there’s a Jewish artistic style, and I don’t believe that. My work is me—everything that I encompass. I don’t call myself a “husband artist” or an American artist. Is my work deeply imbued with my belief in the Creator? It is. For me, the color blue is inseparable from [the biblical blue dye] techelet.

I want to make art that brings the viewer to a higher place. I have created a great deal of ceremonial Jewish art, but my abstract paintings are no less Jewish than the Judaica.

Beyond creating beautiful ritual objects, what can visual art add to Jewish life?

It’s like the difference between taste and smell—it adds a totally different dimension. A visual component does something to your heart, through your eyes. It makes you think differently because of what you’re seeing. People can experience Judaism that way. I don’t have words in my art, because I really like a purely visual experience. 

I work for months on each painting or sculpture, and sometimes years. I want people to feel differently about a work of art every time they look at it, to be in conversation with the image. You can get a lot out of art if you give it the time.

The titles of your artwork are neologisms that sound like Hebrew words. Why not use actual words? 

I don’t like giving too much information, because it closes down the viewer. People can experience the work in different ways depending on their knowledge. If you know color theory, you’ll experience my art one way; if you know Judaism well, you’ll understand it another. The names are allusive. They’re not meant to be literal.

In my current show, I have a painting, TSELA, which is a close-up of the inside of an orchid. Many people have said it looks like a shofar, which is fine. I also have a sculpture, HYYLAH, which uses an actual shofar as part of the piece. To make it, I looked at the contours of a shofar and created a setting to match. The dark shapes underneath remind me of the binding of Isaac on Mount Moriah, and the Jewish people beseeching G-d to forgive our iniquities, but it’s fine if you see something else.

I believe making art is a religious act. And a work of art is complete only when viewers bring their eyes to it.