Rav Avraham Yitchak Kook
Today I had the privilege of drawing a portrait of Rav Abraham Yitzchak HaCohen Kook — a figure whose depth, vision, and love for the Jewish people continue to inspire generations.
Rav Kook wasn’t just a rabbi. He was a mystic, a poet, and the first Ashkenazi Chief Rabbi of pre-state Israel. But more than his titles, it’s his heart that moved me most. He saw holiness not only in the synagogue or study hall, but in the sweat of the pioneers working the land, in the questions of the secular Jew searching for meaning, and in the brokenness of exile striving toward redemption.
One story that always stays with me: Rav Kook once saw a young secular Jew publicly breaking Shabbat. His students were upset, but Rav Kook looked at the man and said, “Do you think he has a small soul? No. He has a great soul — that’s why it burns so fiercely.” Where others saw rebellion, Rav Kook saw yearning.
Drawing him wasn’t just about capturing his likeness. It felt like a dialogue — one where his teachings whispered through every pencil stroke. His eyes, full of vision. His beard, like the roots of a tree — grounded and ancient. His presence, gentle yet unyielding in conviction.
Rav Kook taught that beauty is not a luxury; it’s a revelation of divine harmony. That art, when elevated, can become a form of holiness. That’s something I hold onto in my own work — the idea that every portrait, every image, can carry a spark of something higher.
May his memory continue to inspire hope, unity, and love for our people and our land.
Today I had the privilege of drawing a portrait of Rav Abraham Yitzchak HaCohen Kook — a figure whose depth, vision, and love for the Jewish people continue to inspire generations.
Rav Kook wasn’t just a rabbi. He was a mystic, a poet, and the first Ashkenazi Chief Rabbi of pre-state Israel. But more than his titles, it’s his heart that moved me most. He saw holiness not only in the synagogue or study hall, but in the sweat of the pioneers working the land, in the questions of the secular Jew searching for meaning, and in the brokenness of exile striving toward redemption.
One story that always stays with me: Rav Kook once saw a young secular Jew publicly breaking Shabbat. His students were upset, but Rav Kook looked at the man and said, “Do you think he has a small soul? No. He has a great soul — that’s why it burns so fiercely.” Where others saw rebellion, Rav Kook saw yearning.
Drawing him wasn’t just about capturing his likeness. It felt like a dialogue — one where his teachings whispered through every pencil stroke. His eyes, full of vision. His beard, like the roots of a tree — grounded and ancient. His presence, gentle yet unyielding in conviction.
Rav Kook taught that beauty is not a luxury; it’s a revelation of divine harmony. That art, when elevated, can become a form of holiness. That’s something I hold onto in my own work — the idea that every portrait, every image, can carry a spark of something higher.
May his memory continue to inspire hope, unity, and love for our people and our land.
Today I had the privilege of drawing a portrait of Rav Abraham Yitzchak HaCohen Kook — a figure whose depth, vision, and love for the Jewish people continue to inspire generations.
Rav Kook wasn’t just a rabbi. He was a mystic, a poet, and the first Ashkenazi Chief Rabbi of pre-state Israel. But more than his titles, it’s his heart that moved me most. He saw holiness not only in the synagogue or study hall, but in the sweat of the pioneers working the land, in the questions of the secular Jew searching for meaning, and in the brokenness of exile striving toward redemption.
One story that always stays with me: Rav Kook once saw a young secular Jew publicly breaking Shabbat. His students were upset, but Rav Kook looked at the man and said, “Do you think he has a small soul? No. He has a great soul — that’s why it burns so fiercely.” Where others saw rebellion, Rav Kook saw yearning.
Drawing him wasn’t just about capturing his likeness. It felt like a dialogue — one where his teachings whispered through every pencil stroke. His eyes, full of vision. His beard, like the roots of a tree — grounded and ancient. His presence, gentle yet unyielding in conviction.
Rav Kook taught that beauty is not a luxury; it’s a revelation of divine harmony. That art, when elevated, can become a form of holiness. That’s something I hold onto in my own work — the idea that every portrait, every image, can carry a spark of something higher.
May his memory continue to inspire hope, unity, and love for our people and our land.