Fine Art & Writing
This series of paintings responds to the October 7 massacre at the Nova music festival in Israel. The attack began at dawn, after an all-night dance party in the desert. Hamas terrorists infiltrated by air and land. Some festival goers even waved at the incoming terrorists on paragliders, unaware of the horror about to unfold.
My muses for this work are a group of young women from Jerusalem—artists, musicians, and free spirits—who were brutally assaulted, mutilated, and murdered while pleading for their lives. Among them was Shani Louk, a tattoo artist featured in Time magazine’s Photo of the Year, who had her breast amputated while still alive.
This project is deeply personal. In my twenties, I studied art at Bezalel in Jerusalem and lived on a Kibbutz Sdot Yam.
These paintings are my way of processing grief.
NOVA
10″ x 20″
Oil on Canvas
Tunnel
10″ x 20″
Oil on Canvas
Anna
10″ x 20″
Oil on Canvas
NOVA
10″ x 20″
Oil on Canvas
NOVA
10″ x 20″
Oil on Canvas
NOVA
10″ x 20″
Oil on Canvas
Nova
10″ x 20″
Oil on Canvas
Memoir Writing
I was honored to have two of my memoir stories published in the New York Times Tiny Love Stories section.
“Was I a Good Mother?”
The phone rang at 2 a.m. My 89-year-old mother, lost in an Alzheimer’s fog, asked, “Was I a good mother?” “The best,” I lied. The truth was she was a terrible parent. My mother struggled with severe mental illness from a young age. For someone who was often suicidal, living into old age seemed like fate’s cruel joke. Yet Alzheimer’s has brought gifts. Her mind finally at peace, she delights in simple pleasures: the color of leaves, wind in her hair — and me. She beams when I visit, exclaiming, “This is my daughter. I love her.” — Nancy Glazer Pearl
Image description: A walk in Harvard University’s Arnold Arboretum, my mother’s favorite place.
Even on the Darkest Day
The subject line: “Here Comes the Sun.” The email: “You don’t know me, but your late husband was my fourth-grade teacher. Every winter solstice, he’d bring out his guitar, and the whole school would sing the Beatles song together. He’d remind us that, even on the darkest day, each one after would bring a little more light. I wanted you to know that every year on this date, my friends and I have a group Zoom to sing and remember Mr. Pearl.” I smiled, thinking how, 14 years after his death, Michael’s light still guides us through the darkest days. — Nancy Glazer Pearl
Image description – Michael with Marvin and Marvina — puppets he used in his classroom.
