In his 1972 novel, My Name Is Asher Lev, Chaim Potok tells the story of a young Hasid—a follower of a fictional sect clearly modeled on Chabad-Lubavitch—who comes into conflict with his family over his decision to pursue a career as an artist. Sarah Rindner examines some contemporary, real-life hasidic artists. One wonders, she writes,
whether some of the intractable conflicts present in a book like My Name Is Asher Lev have been overstated. Or perhaps whether religious Jewish communities, in part due to the encouragement of certain visionary leaders, have moved toward transcending them.
Take, for instance, Hendel Futerfas, a Chabad Hasid whose great-great uncle may have been the model for Asher Lev:
Growing up in Crown Heights, [a Lubavitch enclave in Brooklyn], Futerfas was rarely discouraged from pursuing art as a vocation, and he is able to support his family through the sales of his artwork within the religious community and beyond. . . . It’s true that sacrifices are made: the audience of a Hasid-artist is necessarily going to be limited. The choice to prioritize family life also necessitates many kinds of compromises. Yet the refusal of such an artist to cross religious red lines, to the extent they exist, does not make him an artistic “sellout.” Rather, it enables him to operate within a specific tradition, adding depth and meaning to its cultural tapestry.
Futerfas works in a wide range of media. . . . In much of his work, Futerfas displays a preoccupation with Hebrew letters, and this interest has expressed itself in his newest sculpture project, which involves carving out large-scale Hebrew letters and then casting them in metals like bronze and stainless steel. While in most cultures letters have meaning only in the context of words, in Judaism, Hebrew letters have inherent meaning and spiritual potential.
More about: Hasidim, Hebrew alphabet, Jewish art