Staying Youthful at 95? This Israeli Artist Knows How

Prominent Israeli artist Yaacov Agam is still making art at 95, 50 years after his creations have been widely recognized worldwide

Yaacov Agam carries a statue called "Beating Heart" wherever he goes. It has all the components of the classic "Agamic" work: beauty, movement and change. It operates within the dimensions of time, and certainly of space, and offers viewers the opportunity to take an active part in the work.

With a broad smile, Agam invites me to extend a finger and choose a ring out of several to swing from this beating heart. I pick one and swing it, and am gently reprimanded for moving it too strongly.

It was important for Agam that I see the grandiose impact of a minor action. This is also what he wants to demonstrate to me during our tour of the Yaacov Agam Museum of Art in Rishon Letzion.

In Israel, people tend to minimize his art and bemoan his personality. Yet Agam's overall body of work merits discussion way beyond the visual illusions he creates and that deceptive personality.

Agam, who has just turned 95, is an artist in every bone of his body. Beyond sculptures and paintings, he also plays and composes music (during our morning together, he occasionally removed an old wooden recorder out of his bag and played it). He is a fashion designer, has an engineer's sense for large-scale structures such as fountains and outdoor sculptures, weaves carpets, draws portraits, devises artistic techniques, loves technology and creates video art. Many of his works are so well-known that they have become the stuff of cliché. They always deal with space, time and spirituality – specifically, Jewish mysticism.

In fact, from the very beginning, Agam wanted to pose the same question in all of his works: How can art be disconnected from its fixed dimension, allowed to move through space and awaken in the viewer a sense of spiritual and even religious elevation?

It's interesting that you see Judaism as the basis of your work. Yet the second commandment, immediately following the instruction to believe in God, is "Thou shalt not make unto thee a graven image."

"It's true that, unlike in Christian churches, synagogues are primarily a place to pray and not to create art. But everyone expresses their Judaism in the way they see fit; Judaism cannot be limited. My works are based on prayer and love. I don't believe in chance but in willpower and prayer."

Everything currently is in the process of being formed or changed. And in a state of formation, everyone wants to give stronger expression to their position. I’m more optimistic than pessimistic, but beyond that I don't want to talk about politics.

The symmetrical, colorful, abstract visuals in his works may not seem Jewish, but the names of the pieces and their sources of inspiration certainly are. One is the multicolored sculpture "Jacob's Ladder," in Jerusalem's International Convention Center and perhaps his best-known work in Israel. Another statue, "Mea She’arim" ("hundredfold," a term from Genesis in the Bible) is located in the President's Residence (also in Jerusalem). Another well-known work is "Pace of Time," which hangs on the entrance wall at the Tel Aviv Museum of Art and features kabbalistic iconography.

One of Agam's most relevant works to our current moment is displayed on a different entrance wall, at the abovementioned Agam Museum. This 1990 piece is called "Star of David" and on one side you see two colorful and straight-angled Stars of David, on the other something completely different – squares converging into each other.

Agam asks me to shift from side to side in front of the piece and asks, "Isn't that an apt description of what's happening in this country right now?" When I ask him to elaborate about his take on the government's actions and the long-standing demonstrations against it, he responds: "Everything currently is in the process of being formed or changed. And in a state of formation, everyone wants to give stronger expression to their position. I’m more optimistic than pessimistic, but beyond that I don't want to talk about politics."

Unlike adults, children appreciate revelation and love to hide and be found – and the most beautiful part within us is the childish part. By sharing this with the viewers, they can discover their own inner strength and touch creativity, experience change.

The Responsive Eye

Agam was born in Rishon Letzion, a few minutes south of Tel Aviv, to a family of 11 brothers and sisters. "I was a child with many problems," he recounts. "My father was a rabbi and wanted to send me to a religious school. But I got out of it and ended up studying at a regular Gymnasium [high school]." One of his brothers, Hanania Gibstein, was later the city's mayor; his late wife Clila was also born there.

In 1946, at age 18, he was arrested by the ruling British forces during Operation Agatha (aka "Black Sabbath") and served several months in prison in Latrun. Art scholar and curator Dana Grinshpan-Bisseliches wrote her thesis on Agam for a master's degree in curatorial studies in Paris. She found a painting in one of the archives – something he had done to cheer up a cellmate in the detention center. "It's a surreal painting of an angel dwelling in a room, one that resembles engravings. When you see it, you understand that spirituality was present in his life and therefore in his work from the very beginning. It is only the way it is expressed that changes," she says.

At 20 Agam began studying art at Jerusalem's Bezalel – Academy of Arts and Design, and at the end of his studies moved to Zurich to receive training from Johannes Itten, a specialist in the art of color in the Bauhaus movement. Agam next moved to Paris, where he was joined by Clila. The pair got married and divided their time between Israel and France, until Clila's death at the age of 49. To this day, he continues to live in both countries.

In 1986, "Fire and Water" was inaugurated in Dizengoff Square and presented twice a day a show featuring fire and water, accompanied by music. Agam explained that the connection between fire and water was an expression of Jewish mysticism.

The Agam Museum is dedicated to Clila, and visitors are greeted by tall and colorful structures called "Pillars of Clila." "Every time I walk in here, I feel her," he says.

After the loss of his wife, Agam met French harpist Chantal Thomas d’Hoste and the two have been together for many years. They appear a loving couple: she makes sure he looks neat for the photo shoot and fixes his scarf; he never stops praising her and her music.

Yaacov and Clila Agam's early years in Paris were not so different from countless other artists’ lives: they both made a living by working odd jobs during the day and he created art in his studio by night. Artist Nina Lebel, the wife of art critic Robert Lebel, loved Agam's work and introduced him to the owner of the Galerie Craven. It was there that his first exhibit was displayed in 1953. It was a hit, artistically and financially. Even Max Ernst, the finest Surrealist of the time, bought one of his works.

He befriended the sculptors Constantin Brâncuși and Alexander Calder, the photographer Henri Cartier-Bresson, the artists Yves Klein and Victor Vasarely, the playwright Eugène Ionesco and many others active in Paris at the time.

In France, Agam is considered a great and well-known artist, and in the history of Kinetic art his name comes up as one of the greats.

When I ask Agam if he plans to visit the retrospective of the Swiss sculptor Alberto Giacometti (currently on display in the Eyal Ofer Pavilion at Tel Aviv Museum of Art), he says, "Giacometti? I knew him personally. We met at the time in Montparnasse, in Paris."

In 1964, Agam was part of a group of artists from all over the world whose works were showing at the MOMA in New York City, at an exhibit dedicated to op art (short for optical art). Its name was "The Responsive Eye." While the public loved the exhibit and flocked to it in their droves, art critics argued that these were populist optical illusions rather than important or profound art. To this day, many art scholars and critics describe Agam's art as superficial, childish and stuck.

Responding to this criticism, Agam says: "In most of my work, I share my work with the viewers. They are my partners: they are welcome to touch, shift and move in front of it. In the beginning, in France, they said it was scandalous because the viewer has to be outside the artistic experience and why am I suddenly making them a part of it? And now they say it's childish to include the viewer.

"Anyone who thinks my works are childish is probably childish him- or herself. Are these pillars out here childish," he asks, pointing to "Pillars of Clila." "They give expression to the ascension of the spirit, to revelation. Unlike adults, children appreciate revelation and love to hide and be found – and the most beautiful part within us is the childish part. By sharing this with the viewers, they can discover their own inner strength and touch creativity, experience change."

For better or for worse, depending on one's point of view, childishness characterizes not only Agam's work but also his behavior. There is a constant playfulness about him: the way he moves (despite the 95-year-old body that carries him); his mischievous sense of humor; the glint in his eyes. He often playfully throws his hat – which has long since become his trademark – up in the air in an attempt to land it on his head (unsuccessfully, but to the sound of his own raucous laughter).

Despite the criticism surrounding him, Agam became a successful global artist in the 1960s and ’70s. Similar to the facades he created for the Dan Hotel in Tel Aviv and Ne’eman Towers in north Tel Aviv opposite the sea, he was also commissioned to create colorful facades in Taiwan. His sculptures can be seen in public spaces in France, the United States and Asia, while his works are displayed in museums and galleries worldwide. Retrospectives have been shown at the City of Paris Museum of Modern Art, Stedelijk Museum Amsterdam, the Guggenheim in New York and the Tel Aviv Museum of Art.

The first of his many prizes came from the curators of the São Paulo Biennial in Brazil in 1963. He later received an honorary doctorate from Tel Aviv University as well as an award from the Israel Museum. He was also recently honored by the French government. In 2010, his painting "Growth" was sold at auction by Sotheby's New York for $698,000 – a record for an Israeli artist.

"In France, Agam is considered a great and well-known artist, and in the history of Kinetic art his name comes up as one of the greats," says Grinshpan-Bisseliches. She believes the reason Agam is underappreciated in Israel is that he is detached from the main art movements that operate here.

"In many ways, the content of his art is very ‘Jewish’ and its appearance is less ‘Israeli,’" she explains. "Agam uses the aesthetics of the Bauhaus movement, but he pours Jewish symbols and metaphors into it.

"One of the clearest examples of this is the statue ‘Jacob's Ladder.’ He took this familiar symbol and turned it into something Kinetic and Bauhaus. There is a tendency in Israel to describe his art as simplistic, but that's not necessarily the case. Agam does not have the paucity of material that characterizes much of Israeli art – this is maybe due to the many years of training abroad, where there is a tradition for meticulous techniques. This is perhaps what infuriates people about him and makes it difficult to work with him, because the conservation protocol of his works is very difficult to maintain. Everything is handmade and extremely meticulous."

Many art scholars and curators, especially in Israel, consider Agam's art to have been stagnant since the ’70s.

"Agam was a very important artist in the ’50s and ’60s, but his contribution was very specific. After that, there was no great innovation or renewal," noted art curator Ruth Direktor in an interview with this newspaper a few years ago. Agam Museum Director Ruth Makbi believes Agam is not appreciated in Israel because of "classic ‘writers’ envy.’ His success began overseas and then he came back to Israel. Not the other way around, as usually happens: growing up in Israel and then breaking through. And it's hard for people here to accept that."

"Agam was a genius and someone who was at the starting line of one of the most important artistic movements after World War II. He was brimming with fresh ideas about the experience of time. For nearly 30 years he has done fascinating and important works, and it is not for nothing that today they’re part of the world's most important collections," says Haaretz art critic Gilad Melzer, himself a former curator and director of the Agam Museum between 2013 and 2018. "At the same time," he adds, "he's a very complex person."

Asked to recall what it was like working with Agam at the museum, Melzer says: "I was invited to assist in realizing the dream of building an Agam museum in his hometown. On the one hand, I’m pleased that we succeeded and this dream came true. But on the other, Agam was not open enough to invite temporary exhibits of other artists, international and local. I told him that if the museum did not tally with contemporary art, it would become a mausoleum and not a museum – a tombstone, not a lively, bustling place. After all, his art deals with so many themes – time, movement, optics, color, design, architecture – that it could easily provide a varied and fascinating background for temporary exhibits. But due to Agam's insistence, it didn't happen."

Grinshpan-Bisseliches, meanwhile, addresses those criticisms of his stagnation: "It's true that at some point he built a defined and very specific language for himself, on which he created variations. Even so, you can't say that he hasn't innovated since the ’60s. For example, in the ’80s he started creating Judaica objects that were different and new from his previous works; and in the ’90s and 2000s he focused on developing his educational method to enhance creativity and imagination."

Indeed, over the years Agam has developed a unique artistic technique called "Agamograph." In it, he paints on Plexiglas and creates a visual mirage, which as usual makes the viewer move in front of it. He also invented a writing method called "Agamilim," which basically involves switching one letter to change the whole meaning of a word.

He has also attempted to join the art world's ever-evolving technological revolution. He designed a theme for the Google browser and is trying to realize his dream of putting his pedagogical learning methods to enhance children's creativity into an app. "Technology is not bad or good, but its use can be bad or good," he says. "It's like walking into a paint store, and from the huge selection you have to choose the colors and quantity that suit you."

Fire and Water

It is impossible to talk about Agam without mentioning his reputation as an aggressive and exacting person, someone unwilling to compromise, and that working with him is challenging – to say the least. For instance, former Rishon Letzion Mayor Dov Zur once said of him: "Agam is someone who manages to get on your nerves in the most extraordinary way."

Like many of Agam's interactions with life itself, the opening of the museum in his honor was accompanied by many bumps – from the moment the cornerstone of the building was laid in his hometown in 1998, until its doors were finally opened to the public in 2017. Those two decades were full of dramatic incidents; conflicts, budgetary challenges, poor architectural planning, technical problems and delays in the transfer of the artworks from Agam himself.

In an article co-authored by Haaretz writers Naama Riba and Shany Littman in 2016, they described a never-ending saga, of which the greatest sin was probably the museum's estimated cost: about 50 million shekels ($13.4 million), which came at the expense of the taxpayer.

"The differences of opinion are behind us," Agam says, referring to the matter. "The museum is open and it's a gem because it gives visitors the ability to touch the work, dream about it, participate in it and create it themselves. To me, ‘Jacob's Ladder,’ which is shown here, symbolizes the invitation inherent to the museum: to take visitors into a world of creativity, leaving behind everyday hardships. Creation is the most important thing, and the museum nurtures creativity in all kinds of ways. It is not a large museum and the emphasis here is on workshops for children and teenagers. Many students come to experience the magic of formation and change."

There was a party at the museum for Agam's birthday earlier this month. "Ultimately, it's a huge privilege to run the museum alongside the artist himself," says Makbi. "True, we went through some difficult days until the museum opened. He's a pedant, strives for perfection – you can see that in his work as well – but I feel lucky. It wasn't difficult, frustrating or upsetting, but complex and exhausting. While working alongside him, I learned that he's a man and an artist with great knowledge and an extraordinary philosophical worldview. He's a weaver of magic."

Another public dispute concerning Agam involves "Fire and Water," the fountain he created for the Tel Aviv-Jaffa municipality. In 1986, the fountain was inaugurated in Dizengoff Square – a central, well known and very visited location in Tel Aviv – and presented twice a day a show featuring fire and water, accompanied by music. Agam explained that the connection between fire and water was an expression of Jewish mysticism and that its installation in Tel Aviv was an expression of the miracle that this city's existence symbolizes for him.

The fountain was received with great enthusiasm on the one hand, and criticism of its high maintenance cost on the other. In the ’80s, Haaretz correspondent Michael Handelzalts wondered if "we could afford so many ‘Agams’ [a Hebrew reference to a lake]" and the work itself was subjected to numerous insults such as "design gimmick," "ugly" and "aesthetic harassment."

Dizengoff Square was renovated in 2017 and the fountain was removed. A year later, when the construction work was completed and the square was reopened to the public, the fountain was reinstalled but stripped of its colorful paneling. There is an ongoing dispute between the municipality and Agam over whether two sets of colored triangles should be made to coat the fountain, in case the first set is destroyed, or just one. Agam and City Hall even signed a contract requiring them to cooperate to restore the fountain, but its implementation has not gone smoothly.

When asked about the fountain, the artist says: "It's a shame and disgrace to the municipality. Something so beautiful and special, symbolizing the contrasts of fire in water and water in fire, is not being expressed. In my eyes, this is one of the most beautiful things in the world: that fire dances in water, and water in fire. The fountain conveys vision, faith and hope. Right now, it's up to the municipality. I don't understand why they’re delaying it; it was something people came from all over the world to see and admire. What's to admire in Tel Aviv now? The city's dirty sidewalks? It can easily be renewed, and it's also the right thing to do so it can represent the great miracle of Tel Aviv."

The municipality said in response: "The flame is lit as planned, as are the fountain's lighting and music systems. Lowering Dizengoff Square to the pedestrian level and renewing the square were carried out under the artist's requirements and in cooperation with him to integrate the sculpture and its complex systems into the project. For this purpose, and at an investment of millions of shekels, underground rooms were built for machines and operating systems.

"In addition, in close collaboration and cooperation with the artist, and under his supervision, colorful cladding elements for the fountain were made. As part of the construction work, the artist made additional demands and a dispute arose regarding the cladding elements and the finishing works, which is now being discussed between the parties."

"Am I difficult?" asks Agam, perhaps authentically but undoubtedly aware of the sarcasm in his voice, in reaction to my saying this is the reputation he has acquired. "I just want to create something beautiful. If others have complaints about me, I don't know what to say. I just devote myself to art."