Sleep with One Eye Open- Behind the Portrait

I often find myself coming back to the same question – why portraits? And every time, I land on the same answer: I love painting people. There’s something inexhaustible about human beings – each person is different, each carries a story, something unique that can’t be found in anyone else. A sentence that has stayed with me over the years is: "Everyone has something no one else has."

I’ve loved drawing since I was a child. I was always drawn to people – not necessarily to capture perfect likeness or strict realism, but to try and grasp a feeling, a glance, or a hidden moment – something that conveys emotion and transports the viewer to another world. One of the most well-known and debated portraits in art history is Leonardo da Vinci’s Mona Lisa. Some see it as “just another painting,” while others experience something deep, almost spiritual, as if there are hidden messages in her gaze – a look that pierces straight into the soul.

The painting I’m sharing with this piece – Sleep with One Eye Open – was created in the wake of the most recent war in Israel. I wanted to express that constant feeling of tension and fear, especially for those living near the country’s borders – where people never truly sleep in peace.

There’s a sense of threat and unease in this painting – missiles, infiltrations, and the darkest day of all – October 7th, when thousands of terrorists invaded Israel, murdering, looting, raping, and kidnapping civilians, women, children, and infants.

I love painting portraits because, to me, a portrait is so much more than a face.It’s a whole narrative, a complete story. And sometimes, only after a while, when you give a painting some time, you can begin to uncover what it’s really trying to say – between the lines, in the shadows, behind the gaze.

That’s the power of portraiture, at least for me. It’s not just about representing a person’s features, but about accessing something deeper – a memory, a scar, a longing. I often feel that when someone stands in front of a portrait, they’re not just looking at the subject, they’re also seeing a part of themselves. The painting becomes a mirror, reflecting not just who is painted, but who is watching. That emotional exchange – silent, intimate, and often unexplainable – is what I strive for.

Over the years, I’ve realized that painting portraits allows me to process the world around me. Whether it’s through moments of personal reflection or in response to collective trauma, like war, loss, or uncertainty – I always return to the human face. It anchors me. It reminds me of resilience, of complexity, and of the quiet power of presence. A portrait, in the end, is a form of witness – to a time, to a place, to a person’s inner world.

Sleep with One Eye Open

Oil on canvas, 40X30 cm