Apollo Rising was a solo show exhibited at the Cornelius E. Sullivan Gallery in Gloucester MA in the summer of 2016. Several poems by, Shahar Bram, accompanied the show. Some of the paintings were exhibited later that year in a group show at Law & Water Gallery, yet another gallery in Gloucester MA.
Apollo Rising is about the meaning of the shape of a head, of a shoulder line, of the posture that holds the man.
“She is a painter who creates mystery with monoliths rising. She is an artist who illumines the male torso in rich form and colors that will endure.”
Cornelius E. Sullivan, artist and gallery owner, Gloucester, MA
"Goren, in a series of mysterious and deft oils, leaves the viewer with questions unanswered. Her subjects face away from us giving free reign to our curiosities and imaginations."
Kenneth Riaf, gallerist at Law & Water Gallery, Gloucester, MA
Apollo Rising | Shahar Bram
My body ascends with the sun,
my mind shatters the celestial sphere,
reflections disseminate, shades unfold, still
rising, no frame can stop me,
a shooting star rebels against gravity,
a force of grace against a world sagging.
Out of colorless depths
have I summoned thee
Lord of light, Master of life,
now transfigured I realize
your face is our heavenly body.
The Geographer | Shahar Bram
A Terra Incognita.
But I was summoned to its secret ceremony.
I am alone now. Locked in my cell a vision flares,
a shining body rises in the celestial dark,
I see a vivid image of the land I love:
defined but limitless,
the silky slopes, the curving crests,
the lovely valleys where I had lost my way...
a bliss that forged my self –
My job is to portray but no map can display
creation's bursting beauty, the lines of grace,
the saturated, transubstantiated mind
that celebrated mortal knowledge.
If only I could touch right now this holy soil –
afar from her New World,
is like a wave without a shore.
My drawings fly from famished fingers,
from a thirsty heart my colors flow
a form like flower blooms, uprooted,
I am alone, and bodiless
Friends | Shahar Bram
Like ancient kings in funeral boats
we shouldered our dead out to sea.
Unshielded we stood while carried away
by wind and tide were our words.
Unvoiced reflections lost their color and pride.
Stained by a formless, descending sun,
which I could never imagine,
the water mirrored my mind.
And the darkening blue of the deep
filled my body, and I grew
with disgrace at my hefty hands,
and against a world washed with thoughts
stood a stranger wearing my face.