Drawing it like it is

Caricaturist Shlomo Cohen says Jews don't understand his chosen form of art.

Drawing it like it is (photo credit: Courtesy)
Drawing it like it is
(photo credit: Courtesy)
Shlomo Cohen does not generally beat around the bush, which, considering his chosen line of work, is a professional boon. For the last four and a half decades, 68-year-old Cohen has been making ends meet as a caricaturist. His succinct portrayals of political characters and predicaments, naturally imbued with attributes or addenda that feed off some burning topics, have graced the pages of a wide range of publications, from Ha’olam Hazeh to Monitin to dailies Ma’ariv and Yediot Aharonot and the defunct Hadashot. Since 2007, Cohen has enlivened the content of freebie daily Israel Hayom with his work.
Cohen’s CV features the full spectrum of political leanings and market sectors, which makes him an ideal choice to spearhead a discussion entitled “Who Censures Caricatures in the Israeli Press?” at this year’s Animix International Animation, Comics and Caricature Festival, which will take place at the Tel Aviv Cinematheque from August 8 through 12.
At Cohen’s own admission, he has had his work cut out for him throughout his long and highly successful career to date.
“You grew up in a country which is a paradise for caricaturists and you came to a country which doesn’t understand caricatures,” he said on learning of my British origins. “The language of the caricature is incomprehensible to the Jewish people and to the progeny of the Jewish people – the Israelis.”
According to Cohen, there are some basic elements that have to be taken on board before one can get to grips with his art.
“Understanding the language of the caricature requires an ability to project abstraction and to understand metaphors,” he continues. “Jews have no problems understanding humor in literature, and they appreciate music very much. But they have never been able to appreciate aesthetics or painting. Caricature comes from painting, and Jews simply don’t understand this art form. It’s not a matter of being conservative.”
Considering that Cohen has been putting his visuals out there for so long, surely he must have some idea as to how to gets his message across to his Jewish readership.
“I and my fellow professionals do the best we can, and produce the best quality work we possibly can, but I have said on more than one occasion that being a caricaturist in Israel is like being a bullfighter in India, where the cow is sacred.”
Even so, Cohen has gained a reputation for his no-nonsense approach, and once famously earned himself a sharp rebuke – although he stopped short of official censure – from then-attorney general Elyakim Rubinstein when a caricature of Rabbi Yitzhak Kadouri, which Cohen ran in Yediot Aharonot in 1997, was deemed by Rubinstein to “remind one of illustrations from the Nazi era.” Interestingly, Rubinstein said he would not take legal steps, in the interests of maintaining freedom of expression.
DESPITE COHEN’S claim that caricatures are a misunderstood art form, they are evidently an efficient and unfettered vehicle for circumventing potential minefields.
Cohen claims that local engagement in the field of the caricature began in somewhat less than ideal circumstances. “Berl Katznelson, who was then the editor of [left-wing newspaper] Davar asked Aryeh Navon to draw caricatures for the paper. Navon was a talented theater set designer, painter and illustrator, but there was only one thing he couldn’t do well; he was no caricaturist. Katznelson told Navon that it was standard practice abroad for newspapers to run caricatures, so Navon went for it.” It is, therefore, surprising to note that Navon served as the paper’s caricaturist for over 30 years (1933 to 1964).
Cohen says that while Navon may have done his best, he unwittingly did so to the detriment of the emerging field in this part of the world.
“He cemented the approach to caricature design to this very day. He used a very simple and simplistic line format. He wasn’t capable of anything more than that. He drew caricatures like I would design theater sets. We all have our talents, and his was not in caricatures.”
According to Cohen, Navon’s legacy was soon picked up by the next generation of artists, primarily Ze’ev Farkash and Kariel Gardosh (Dosh). “They were the most important caricaturists. Dosh was a true political caricaturist. He couldn’t draw. But he created that famous figure of Srulik, and he conveyed simple messages through simple means. Ze’ev was a talented illustrator, and the two of them created political caricatures that matched the time – in the late 1950s and the 1960s,” Cohen continues. “The Israeli public fed off this, and that’s the way the average Israeli relates to caricatures to this day.”
So where does Cohen slot into this artistic and cultural evolution? “I, and some of my colleagues, come from a different era,” he declares. “We take a wider and more international approach to caricatures.”
It must be very frustrating for Cohen, creating something that he knows will not be understood by the vast majority of the public. But it seems that the reality is somewhat less gloomy.
“I work for Israel Hayom, which is at the cutting edge of technology, in global terms,” he says. “Most caricaturists don’t really know if people like their work unless they meet them on the street. My work is sent in a newsletter, all over Israel and the world, on Facebook, on websites and on all sorts of applications, and I get responses – lots of them.”
The reactions generally differ according to country and culture. “I get less responses from, say, the United States and England, but there they understand the language of the caricature better than Israelis. Non-Israelis understand the metaphor and the symbolism more quickly than the average Israeli. The average Israeli is looking for a laugh, but elsewhere in the world the caricature is not viewed as a great joke. Instead they look at it as a graphic statement by a caricaturist. It can also be a painful or even annoying statement.
By the way,” he adds, “in English there are two very different terms: ‘caricature’ and ‘cartoon.’ In Hebrew there is only ‘caricature.’” Cohen hopes that all is not quite lost here. “I hope, over time, that we’ll manage to improve things. When it comes to technology, Cohen says things have become far easier. “In the old days, for example, you had to understand colors, otherwise you couldn’t send something to print. Today, you just churn out what you know and mess around with the computer keyboard, and whatever comes out comes out.”
Then again, easier doesn’t necessarily mean better.
“Not at all – in fact, the level has dropped because anyone can get into the game these days,” Cohen observes. “There is one thing that does not exist in a computer: the concept of error. If I work, for example, on a character for a whole week and I have to add some detail to an eye, my hand will be shaking and if I make a mistake that’s the whole week’s work down the drain. You don’t have that problem with the computer.
That leads to creativity – if you’re free of the worry of making a mistake, you can go for broke every time. In the worst event you just delete the error and redo it. The bottom line,” he concludes, “is if someone who has mediocre talent starts working by computer, he will end up becoming really bad; but a good caricaturist will become an excellent one with a computer.”
At the end of the day, despite his left-wing views, Cohen says he hardly ever has any clashes with the editor of the right-wing Israel Hayom, nor does he get any grief from the state authorities.
“There is no political censorship when it comes to caricatures,” he declares. “The only censorship that existed, in the past, was in the press that belonged to specific political parties, when the editor would say ‘do this, do that.’ Political censorship is not just disqualifying a caricature but also channeling the end product to suit some political one. That never happened to me in all the papers and publications I worked for, and certainly not with Israel Hayom, which has a clear political agenda.”
Cohen says he always demands free rein and almost always gets it. “If an editor tells me he doesn’t like my caricature, I don’t argue. But if he tells me to modify it in some way, I categorically oppose that,” he says. “I get my slot in the paper to express my opinion; if the editor tries to get me to change the caricature then it’s his opinion, not mine. I have to be free in my work.”
For tickets and more information about the Animix Festival: (03) 606-0800 and www.animixfest.co.il