Finding Light Through Art: A Journey of Healing and Discovery

It's hard to believe that Simcha Even Chaim, the talented artist whose professionalism and emotion are evident in each painting, never engaged in art in her childhood or young adulthood.

She grew up in Be'er Sheva in a traditional household, leading a typical and ordinary childhood, until at 19, her world was shaken when her brother tragically passed away, leaving her and her family shocked and grieving.

"My brother was an extraordinarily talented artist who lived and breathed creativity," she explains. "He had a rare and exceptional gift, and our house was always filled with the scent of oil paints that seeped into my soul. He painted all day without pause. When he talked to me, he would draw me, and during lunch, he painted the food on his plate. But perhaps it was his unique sensitivity that ultimately harmed him, as he struggled to cope with the world's difficulties, leading to the tragedy."

Hidden Paths of Hashem

"Since my brother passed away, I struggled to return to normalcy," Simcha shares. "I had so many questions—why is the world so vast and filled with pain, why is there evil, why is life's reality harsh, what happens after death, and how is it possible that a flesh-and-blood person who lived and breathed is suddenly gone? How could it be, and where is she now in this world?"

Did you try to find answers?

"Certainly. Initially, I searched through all the philosophical literature I knew. I read research books and tried to find the meaning of life through them. As part of my spiritual quest, I traveled to India three times after my military service, seeking meaning. I had a great longing to find the truth, as well as pain from emptiness and loss that I tried to fill. I also engaged in meditation exercises, hoping they would help me understand what had happened in this confusing world around me."

She arrived at painting with no prior plan. "About three years after my brother passed, one day I took his paints, brushes, and all the art supplies," she recalls. "Driven by an inexplicable urge, I ran to the 'Kravitz' store, bought a small canvas, and when I got home, I took out the paints and began to paint.

"It was amazing because I had never learned to paint professionally before, and suddenly I produced a painting like someone who had studied for years. It was truly a gift from heaven. Since then, the ability to paint has become central to my life. I enrolled in a painting course at the university in Be'er Sheva, the same college where my brother studied. I followed the same path he did, and it turned out that our first paintings were very similar. At that time, I painted all my questions and searches on crowded and dense pages that looked like big question marks. In each painting, I sought the light within the darkness and was disappointed when I couldn't always depict it."

Did you use the paintings in any way?

"No, initially they served purely as an emotional release. It was my way of expressing what was on my heart, while meanwhile learning and specializing very professionally, reaching the highest level of all kinds of paintings."

Stranded in India

On her third trip to India, Simcha knew she wanted to visit a place she hadn't been to called 'Varanasi'. "Most travelers visited there, and I wanted to as well," she explains. "But only when I arrived did I realize just how much I didn't really want to be there. It was a place of the most extreme idol worship. I felt like I was wandering amidst genuine idol worship, and it sent a real chill into my heart.

"For the first time I understood why 'idol worship' is called by that name, because it is so foreign and irrelevant. Moment by moment, I felt an overwhelming rejection from that place, just wanting to return home. But then the infamous monsoon rains began, effectively blockading the entire city as if under siege. I couldn't even leave the hotel room. I felt like I was in prison, wishing only to go home and passing the time reading from a small book of Psalms I got from a Chabad house.

"At first, I didn’t understand a word of the Psalms," she notes, "but the more I read, the more the book did its work, and the letters began to truly shine for me. To this day, I can't explain the process I underwent, but I felt an illumination thanks to the holy letters, and my longing for the Land grew and grew."

"After two weeks in the monsoon rains, I finally managed to buy a train ticket, seating myself in the first-class car, not even caring how much it cost. When the plane landed back home, I jumped off it and kissed the ground of Israel, with tears streaming down my cheeks. I missed it so much."

Simcha can't forget the first Shabbat she experienced back in the land after that trip. "It was the eve of the Parashat Noach," she remembers. "I sat on our porch in Be'er Sheva, gazing at the endless desert, when I suddenly felt a beam of light shining toward me, and an inner voice calling, 'Shabbat the Queen, Shabbat the Queen.' I got up from my chair and ran indoors, shouting, 'Mom, when does Shabbat start?' I saw my mom lighting candles, and I asked her, 'I want to light too,' and then I announced to everyone, 'I want to keep Shabbat, and may Hashem open for me the gates of heaven.'"

That first Shabbat of Parashat Noach was a significant turning point she remembers vividly. "Today I know I didn’t keep it correctly, as required, because I wasn’t aware of all the halachot," she says, "but I didn’t turn on lights or make fire, and I didn’t go out like I used to. When I woke up in the morning, I went to pray at the synagogue. Hearing the Torah being taken out of the Holy Ark moved me to tears streaming like rivers, flooding me in an indescribable way. The Torah reader began to read Parashat Noach, and suddenly it dawned on me: Hashem opened the ark for me and welcomed me into His home."

Painting from the Heart

In the period following her return to faith, Simcha stopped painting. People around her didn’t understand why, but she knew the reason. "My paintings came from a question, from an internal chaos I had trying to create order in the world’s chaos. Once I found the truth and Judaism, I no longer needed the paintings. Suddenly, there was an inner peace within me, and I felt calm."

Although there were no paintings during that time, Simcha remembers reading Jewish texts—Torah, Psalms, and Prophets enthusiastically, as if they were thrilling novels. "I felt that the more I read, the more light entered me. Because I love to paint, I was able to see the stories in the Chumash and writings vividly in my mind's eye, taking me on a fascinating, dreamlike journey. Those days, I also attended seminary and fed my soul with everything it truly sought, and thank Hashem, found."

After six months, Simcha began to feel the itch at her fingertips, realizing she must return to painting, as it was Hashem's will and the gift she received from Him. "I returned to painting but with a different intention," she clarifies. "Today, I'm clear I want to sanctify the material and bring light and hope to the world. This is also why my paintings focus on what comes from within—I paint the events of the Book of Genesis, and later the Song at the Sea with Miriam the prophetess singing. I paint Ezekiel's vision and, naturally, the Holy Temple. Living for about 13 years in Yoshevia, a southern settlement, I directly feel the growing anticipation for redemption, which is also reflected in my paintings."

Today, as a married woman, mother, and wife, Simcha knows painting is a means to reflect the light in the world and reveal Hashem. "I've been fortunate that my hobby brings me closer to Hashem," says Simcha, who recently exhibited a showcase titled "Higher Lights," featuring her best works at the 'Heichal Shlomo Museum in Jerusalem.' "Jerusalem has always been a heart's desire for me, I've painted it so much, and now it really feels like closing a circle," she expresses emotionally.