Early Israeli Artists

Early Israeli Artists: Gutman, Rubin, and Bezalel

“So what was the Orange Peel Path like?” “Which path?” asks the lad.

“Orange peel.”

“Which peel?”

“Orange.”

“Ah! You call it ‘the Orange Peel Path’?”

I tell him “yes,” and in my heart, I wonder how to explain that this was no ordinary path, that today it is more like a symbol for me.  A symbol of deeds that can and should be done.” – The Orange Peel Path; Adventures from the Early Days of Tel Aviv, by Nachum Gutman

Gutman and Rubin: Painting the Spirit of a New Nation

At the dawn of the 20th century, waves of Jewish pioneers arrived in Palestine, inspired by the Zionist dream of resurrecting an independent Jewish state. Decades before the Holocaust, waves of pogroms and rising anti-Semitism in Eastern Europe underscored the urgent need for a Jewish homeland. Upon arrival, these pioneers faced a barren, unyielding land and immense challenges—harsh environmental conditions, financial struggles, and escalating hostility from the local Arab population in the 1920s.

Despite these adversities, their determination and Zionist ideals helped them transform the land and realize their vision. This spirit of resilience, optimism, and connection to the land was powerfully captured by artists Nahum Gutman and Reuven Rubin, who became key figures in shaping the cultural identity of the emerging Jewish state.

Their art radiated a sense of childlike simplicity and fairytale richness, portraying the light, colors, and landscapes of the new homeland. The panoramic scenes of daily life they painted—villages, workers, shepherds, and coastal views—reflected not just the physical beauty of the land but also the collective hopes and aspirations of its people.

As I reflect on their work, I can’t help but think about my own connection to Israel—the land of my birth. My memories are not of pioneers plowing the earth, but of vast, almost uninterrupted sand dunes stretching from our apartment building to the shore—a two-mile expanse that, within just a few years, was swallowed by apartment complexes and roads. What was once an open landscape, wild and untouched, quickly became a cityscape, a transformation I witnessed in real-time.

Gutman and Rubin’s paintings are not just historical artifacts to me; they are echoes of a time when personal and national identity was still being shaped. They capture a sense of belonging, something I have sought in my own artistic and personal journey—across continents, across time, and across the changing landscapes of memory.

Nahum Gutman: Art as Storytelling

Nahum Gutman (1898–1980), born in Romania, immigrated to Israel at the age of seven and grew up in Tel Aviv, then a fledgling city of white houses, golden sands, and vibrant skies. These elements became a central theme in Gutman’s work, embodying the youthful optimism of the city and its pioneers.

Gutman studied at the Bezalel Academy of Arts in Jerusalem before continuing his education in Vienna, Berlin, and Paris. Influenced by the European modernist movements, including Expressionism and Fauvism, Gutman developed a unique style that combined European techniques with local inspiration.

His works from the 1920s, including Lunch Rest, The Carrier of the Wheat, and Goat Shepherd, depicted local Arab laborers in pastoral scenes. These paintings reflect a blend of primitive-naive art and Expressionism, characterized by simplified forms, bold color contrasts, and a sense of raw authenticity. The figures in these works exude strength and confidence, symbolizing a deep connection to the land.

I picture Gutman as a young boy, wandering the sandy streets, absorbing every detail—moments that would later find their way onto his canvas. I did the same, though my landscapes were different. I wandered the Judean Desert, scaling its hills, listening to the silence. Perhaps that’s why Gutman’s paintings resonate so deeply with me—they are visual echoes of youth shaped by Israel’s evolving landscapes.

Beyond painting, Gutman was also a prolific writer and illustrator, particularly of children’s books. His art often carried a narrative quality, merging his talents as a storyteller and visual artist. Gutman’s legacy is a vivid tapestry of Israel’s formative years, filled with beauty, resilience, and a deep connection to the land.

Explore Gutman’s Art and Legacy

Reuven Rubin: The Artist as Pioneer

Reuven Rubin (1893–1974) was born in Romania and immigrated to Israel in 1912, arriving in Jerusalem to study at the Bezalel Academy. However, Rubin found himself at odds with the Academy’s teachers, whom he saw as too rigidly tied to European artistic traditions. Seeking broader horizons, he left for Paris, where he immersed himself in the art world, drawing inspiration from Chagall, Modigliani, Matisse, and Picasso.

In 1922, Rubin returned to Tel Aviv, where he painted for the rest of his life. He described himself as both an artist and a pioneer, viewing painting as an act of love for the land and its people.

One of his earliest works, Tel Aviv (1922), captures the city’s first houses and tents, set against the brilliant white sands and the vast blue sea. The naïve, almost dreamlike quality of the painting reflects a city that was still more vision than reality.

I recognize that feeling well. When I moved to the United States, Israel became a place I carried in my mind—not just a physical homeland but a dreamlike space of memory and belonging. Like Rubin, I have often painted and written about it from afar, capturing not just what is there but what I imagine it to be.

Learn More About Rubin’s Work

Bezalel Academy of Arts: A Crucible for Modern Israeli Art

The Bezalel Academy of Arts, founded in 1906 by Boris Schatz, was the first art school in Palestine, introducing European art methods to the region. However, the school faced tension: how much of its teaching should reflect European traditions, and how much should embrace the reality of the land?

In the early 1920s, a frustrated student at Bezalel, disillusioned with its European artistic influences, presented Schatz with a sketch of a sabra—a thorny cactus native to Israel, symbolizing the resilience and self-reliance of the new Jewish settlers. “This is our reality,” the student said, “not the roses and cherubs of Europe.”

Schatz paused before replying, “Then make this your art—but make it great art.”

That phrase has stayed with me. To embrace one’s roots but push for greatness. To honor where you came from but never stop evolving.

It makes me think about my creative work—my essays, artworks, paintings, and reflections. Is my art “great art”? I don’t know. But I know it is mine. And that, perhaps, is enough.

Discover Bezalel Academy

The Legacy of Early Israeli Art

The early Israeli artists—Gutman, Rubin, and their contemporaries—were not just painters; they were witnesses. They saw a nation being built from scratch, and they immortalized its struggles, its landscapes, and its dreams.

I look at their work and see not just history but pieces of myself.

I, too, have wandered the streets of Tel Aviv and the alleyways of Jerusalem, feeling both deeply at home and yet, at times, like a visitor in my own land. I have traveled to the Judean Desert, climbed its ridges, and felt the past pressing against my skin. And I have stood before canvases—both my own and others’—wondering how to capture the feeling of belonging, of longing, of identity.

Perhaps, in the end, that is what all art is about:

A search for home.

If you’re wondering why I’ve included photos of my mother in this gallery, it’s because, for me, everything begins with her. Her story, vision, and connection to this land have shaped my appreciation for art and its ability to reflect life’s beauty, struggles, and triumphs.

Some of my other reflections on Israel.

May 2020