Olga Lempert

Creative work

Writing and photography are two ways I make sense of things. Here you’ll find a selection of my short stories and a window into my photography.

Two stories published elsewhere are A Time for Rain in The Lehrhaus and Nissim in The Tel Aviv Review of Books.

Stories

Photography

https://www.instagram.com/p/DcJ5tOakSuk/ During today’s family bookbinding workshop with @shablool_marbled_arts, we were given two seemingly opposing instructions. “Try and be as precise as possible,” and, “Don’t try for perfection.” And I’ve been thinking about it all day. My interpretation is, you don’t have to be the best at things, but you must try the best you can. This is true of relationships (even if I’m not your best friend, I still want to be the best friend I can be). It’s true of work (especially in this exciting but challenging time of technological advancement). It’s true of policy and society (perfection doesn’t exist but we must do our best and definitely do better). It is especially true of art and creativity, where there isn’t an objective quality rating but if you half-ass it, you’re better off not doing it at all. From the workshop—again, a wonderful experience, do sign up—we each brought a beautiful, imperfect hand-bound notebook, but the lesson to me is about more than the interesting new skill. Maybe it’s a little bit about what to write in the notebook. Maybe it’s about what I’ll do at work tomorrow morning. And maybe it’s about the kind of wife, sister, and daughter I want to be. Thank you @shablool_marbled_arts for the lesson. so bottom line is it’s sad to be here these days. that’s also the top and middle lines. sadness pervades all. sadness in what people are doing and saying to each other, in the pointlessness of daily labors and struggles, in the shortage of lucky breaks. nothing seems worthwhile. maybe it’s the old age catching up with me. and it’s all flowers and colors overhead, and you can barely see the metal netting preventing you from flying high Shay says I am obsessed with lonely figures. Maybe it’s because at heart I am one. Or some other cliche. Sad times are being had by all. “what’s going on and how are you doing?” well, for three weeks we didn’t have a shelter and now we do, and both our jobs can be done remotely, so we’re privileged that way. on the other hand, residential buildings are getting hit daily so maybe a shelter isn’t the end all be all. on the third hand, the country is radicalizing very quickly with the extremists in government getting free reign and any objections being met with emotional manipulation of the highest degree at the least and physical violence as a norm. not to mention the literal death cult in a narrower section of the ruling faction. on the fourth hand, we are all grounded by constant fire, so even if we were ready to leave we couldn’t. rapidly approaching a hindu deity with the number of hands involved. it’s scary living in a war and it is heartbreaking living in this region in these times. it’s terrifying facing the hatred, the violence, the conspiracies, and the baseless accusations (when there is plenty to accuse this country of with good reason were anyone to bother looking deeper). it’s not normal to be fretting for friends and family abroad almost more than we fret for friends and family under bombs. and it’s awful to see how gleefully that fear and that violence are celebrated when they face this way. but physically, we are fine. our home stands. our employment continues. our bodies are intact even if the minds are less so. no telling how long a human can last in a dichotomy of this sort. https://www.instagram.com/p/DVKPx6rioTL/ through the glass looking תל אביב זה אני ואתה