A Window on Chagall (some reflections in advance of our February concert)

How can a goat play a violin or a cello wear a tie? Surely you have never seen a green horse? Or a pair of lovers flying through the air? And yet perhaps you have seen lovers fly, at least figuratively. That is what the Russian Jewish artist, Marc Chagall seems to have seen and depicted over a painting career of more than 90 years. Born in 1887 in the shtetl town of Vitebsk on the edges of Russia, the Pale of Settlement to which Catherine the Great had relegated the Jews, he grew up in a Hassidic community which celebrated the poetry of life through music and dance and sensed the Divine in the quotidian. In his magical memoir, My Life, Chagall describes his hometown: Churches, fences, shops,

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