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Current news:

Until November 30,
Lost in Infinity 3 on view in a group show “Better with Age”, presented by the office of Manhattan Borough President Gale Brewer. 1 Centre Street, 19th floor south.

Until January 3,
Journal Entry 14, on view in a group show Art as Sanctuary, New York Society of Women Artists, in the Livingroom Gallery of St. Peter’s Church, Lexington Avenue at 53rd Street.

November-December 2017, a residency at the Carter Burden Center, 312 E. 109th Street.


Please visit my website francineperlman.com

Recent news:


January, 2017, a room-size installation called Doors Open, Doors Close at Ceres Gallery, 547 W. 27th Street, 2nd floor. Tuesday-Saturday noon-6, Thursdays noon-8. Small works by women in domestic violence shelters are incorporated into my larger work.


I have 300 tiny works in Artists in the Archives: The Alternet, a collaborative project with over 75 artists, created by Carla Rae Johnson. still traveling since Jan 2013.

My third solo of drawings at the Morningside branch of the New York Public Library, February, 2017. Check back for details, or sign up at my blog for announcements.


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Sunday, November 16, 2014

By Invitation Only, Please Knock Before Entering

This is my sculpture that now appears in "Brains, Boobs, and Backbones", at the Paramount Theater in Peekskill, NY.  It has "My Uterus" prefixed to its name for this show.  It originally was shown in "Meet my Uterus", at Ceres Gallery, NYC, so it didn't need that prefix then, and I posted it in this blog, Feb 9, 2013.  At the time, people such as Todd Akin had announced that if a woman gets pregnant, it wasn't a legitimate rape, because "the whole thing shuts down."  Newspaper clippings are included in this piece, which is made predominately of cardboard, with ears and eyes (of Fimo) on constant watch.  It was reviewed in The New York Art World, Spring 2013.

Besides the message, I'm really attracted to stacked laminated cardboard because of the light that passes through the ribs.  Wonderful material.


Saturday, November 1, 2014

Yom Kippur

In the synagogue, there is a long silent meditation called the Amidah.  There is text, so it's more a prayer than a meditation, and sometimes it's chanted, everyone together, out loud.  But there is also a silent Amidah, and we are instructed to read what's given or to meditate or to contemplate what's in our own hearts.  We stand until we're done, and one by one, we sit.

On Yom Kippur, 2014, the synagogue was full, sanctuary and balcony.  The Amidah began, everyone on our feet and after a while people started to close their books and sit down.  One man in the front row was immersed in his prayer, maybe reading both the Hebrew and the English, maybe adding the alternative readings, while all around him, everyone else finished and sat down.  The rabbi and the cantor sat down.  It is the custom to wait for everyone to finish so we waited, and the respect and patience shown the man who continued praying said more about the community than anything else.  

The room was silent.  No one coughed or whispered.  The standing man continued thoroughly absorbed in his reading.  After a while, the man sitting next to him looked at the rabbi, who I couldn't see from where I sat in the balcony, and whispered something to the praying man, who didn't hear it, and who continued reading on his feet.  Thirty more seconds passed, and the rabbi and cantor got to their feet to resume the service.  The sitting man gently tugged on the sleeve of the standing man, who then looked around and sat down.

In the interlude of this man's solitary praying I experienced a deep stillness and peacefulness that more than anything was the essence of being in a spiritual moment.