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The hora, the hora! How Jewish wedding music got that way
(JTA) — When my wife and I were planning our wedding, we thought it might be cool to hire a klezmer band. This was during the first wave of the klezmer revival, when groups like The Klezmatics and The Klezmer Conservatory Band were rediscovering the genre of Jewish wedding music popular for centuries in Yiddish-speaking Eastern Europe.
Of course we also wanted to dance to rock ‘n’ roll and needed musicians who could handle Sinatra for our parents’ benefit, so we went with a more typical wedding band. Modernity won out over tradition.
Or did it? Musician and musicologist Uri Schreter argues that the music heard at American Jewish weddings since the 1950s has become a tradition all its own, especially in the way Old World traditions coexist with contemporary pop. In a dissertation he is writing about the politics of Jewish music in the early postwar period, Schreter argues that American Jewish musical traditions — especially among secularized Conservative and Reform Jews — reflect events happening outside the wedding hall, including the Holocaust, the creation of Israel and the rapid assimilation of American Jews.
That will be the subject of a talk he’ll be giving Monday for YIVO, titled “Yiddish to the Core: Wedding Music and Jewish Identity in Postwar New York City.”
Because it’s June — and because I’m busy planning a wedding for one of my kids one year from now — I wanted to speak to Schreter about Jewish weddings and how they got that way. Our Zoom conversation Wednesday touched on the indestructibility of the hora, the role of musicians as “secular clergy” and why my Ashkenazi parents danced the cha-cha-cha.
Born in Tel Aviv, Schreter is pursuing his PhD in historical musicology at Harvard University. He is a composer, pianist and film editor.
Our conversation was edited for length and clarity.
I was struck by your research because we’re helping to plan a child’s wedding now. It’s the first wedding we’ve planned since our own, and we’re still asking the same questions, like, you’ve got to make sure the band can handle the hora and the Motown set and, I don’t know, “Uptown Funk.” Your research explores when that began — when American Jewish weddings began to combine the traditional and secular cultures.
In the period that I’m talking about, post-World War II America, this is already a fact of life for musicians. A lot of my work is based on interviews with musicians from that period, folks now in their 80s and 90s. The oldest one I have started playing professionally in 1947 or ’48. Popular American music was played at Jewish weddings as early as the 1930s, but it’s a question of proportion — how much the wedding would feature foxtrots and swing and Lindy Hop and other popular dance tunes of the day, and how much of it is going to be klezmer music.
In the postwar period, most of the [non-Orthodox] American Jewish weddings would have featured American pop. For musicians who wanted to be in what they called the “club date” business, they needed to be able to do all these things. And some “offices” — a term they used for a business that books wedding bands — would have specialists that they could call on to do a Jewish wedding.
You’re writing about a period when the Conservative movement becomes the dominant American Jewish denomination. They have one foot in tradition, and the other in modernity. What does a wedding look like in 1958 when they’re building the big suburban synagogues?
The difference is not so much denominational but between the wide spectrum of Orthodoxy and the diverse spectrum of what I describe as “secular.”
Meaning non-Orthodox — Reform, Conservative, etc.?
Right. Only in the sense that they are broadly speaking more secular than the Orthodox. And if so they are going to have, for the most part, one, maybe two sets of Jewish dance music — basically a medley of a few Jewish tunes. You might have a wedding where it could be a quarter of the music or even half would be Jewish music, but this would be for families that have a much stronger degree of attachment to traditional Jewish culture, and primarily Yiddish culture.
There’s a few interrelated elements that shape this. Class is an important thing. For lower class communities in some areas, and I am talking primarily about New York, you’d have communities that are a little bit more secluded, probably speaking more Yiddish at home and hanging out more with other Jewish people from similar backgrounds. So these kinds of communities might have as much as a third or half of the music be Jewish, even though they consider themselves secular. It’s actually very similar to an Orthodox wedding, where you might also have half and half [Jewish and “American” music].
Jews in the higher socioeconomic class might, in general, be more Americanized, and want to project a more mainstream American identity. They might have as little as five minutes of Jewish music, just to mark it that they did this. Still, it’s very important for almost all of them to have those five minutes — because it’s one of the things that makes the wedding Jewish. I interviewed couples that were getting married in the ’50s, and a lot of them told me, “You need to have Jewish dance music for this to be a Jewish wedding.”
Composer and pianist Uri Schreter is pursuing his PhD in historical musicology at Harvard University. (Nicole Loeb)
When I was growing up in the 1970s at a suburban Reform synagogue on Long Island, klezmer was never spoken about. I don’t know any parents who owned klezmer albums. Then when I got married a decade later, it was in the middle of the klezmer revival. Am I right about that? Were the ’50s and ’60s fallow periods for klezmer?
You’re definitely right. Up until the mid-1920s, you still have waves of immigration coming from Eastern Europe. So you still have new people feeding this desire for the traditional culture. But as immigration stops and people basically tried to become American, the tides shift away from traditional klezmer.
The other important thing that happens in the period that I’m looking at is both a negative rejection of klezmer and a positive attraction to other new things. Klezmer becomes associated with immigrant culture, so people who are trying to be American don’t want to be associated with it. It also becomes associated with the Holocaust, which is very problematic. Anything sounding Yiddish becomes associated for some people with tragedy.
At the same time, and very much related to this, there’s the rise of Israeli popular culture, and especially Israeli folk songs. A really strong symbol of this is in the summer of 1950, when the Weavers record a song called “Tzena, Tzena,” a Hebrew Israeli song written in the 1940s which becomes a massive hit in America — it’s like number two in the Billboard charts for about 10 weeks. Israeli culture becomes this symbol of hope and the future and a new society that’s inspiring. This is all in very stark contrast to what klezmer represents for people. And a lot of the composers of Israeli folk song of its first decades had this very clearly stated ideology that they’re moving away from Ashkenazi musical traditions and Yiddish.
So the Jewish set at a wedding becomes an Israeli set.
At a typical Conservative wedding in the 1950s and ’60s, you might hear 10 minutes of Jewish music. The first one would be “Hava Nagila,” then they went to “Tzena, Tzena,” then they would do a song called “Artza Alinu,” which is today not very well known, and then “Hevenu Shalom Aleichem.” They are songs that are perceived to be Israeli folk songs, even though if you actually look at their origins, it’s a lot murkier than that. Like two of the songs I just mentioned are actually Hasidic songs that received Hebrew words in pre-state Palestine. Another probably comes from some sort of German, non-Jewish composer in 1900, but is in Hebrew and is perceived to be a representation of Israeli culture.
But even when the repertoire already represents a shift towards what’s easier to digest for American Jewry, the arrangements and the instruments and the musical ornamentation are essentially klezmer. The musicians I spoke to said they did this because they felt that this is the only way that it would actually sound Jewish.
That is to say, to be “Jewish” the music had to gesture towards Ashkenazi and Yiddish, even if it were Israeli and Hebrew. As if Jews wanted to distance themselves from Eastern Europe — but only so far.
Someone like Dave Tarras or the Epstein Brothers, musicians who were really at the forefront of klezmer in New York at the time, were really focused on bringing it closer to Ashkenazi traditions. Ashkenazi Jewish weddings in America are not the totality of Jewish weddings in America, and Israeli music itself is made up of all these different traditions — North African, Middle Eastern, Turkish, Greek — but in effect most of the really popular songs of the time were composed by Ashkenazi composers. Even “Hava Nagila” is based on a melody from the Sadigura Hasidic sect in Eastern Europe.
Of course, if you’re a klezmer musician you’re allergic to “Hava Nagila.”
Then-Vice President Joe Biden dances the hora with his daughter Ashley at her wedding to Howard Krein in Wilmington, Delaware on June 2, 2012. (White House/David Lienemann)
You spoke earlier about Latin music, which seemed to become a Jewish thing in the 1950s and ’60s — I know a few scholars have focused on Jews and Latinos and how Latin musical genres like the mambo and cha-cha-cha became popular in the Catskill Mountain resorts and at Jewish weddings.
Latin music is not exclusively a Jewish thing, but it’s part of American popular culture by the late 40s. But Jews are very eagerly adopting it for sure. In the Catskills, you would often have two separate bands that alternated every evening. One is a Latin band, one is a generic American band playing everything else. And part of that is American Jews wanting to become American. And how do you become American? By doing what Americans do: by appropriating “exotic” cultures, in this case Latin. This is a way of being American.
Jews and Chinese food would be another example.
And by the way, in a similar vein, it also becomes very popular to dance to Israeli folk songs. A lot of people are taking lessons. A lot of people are going to their Jewish Y to learn Israeli folk dance.
I’ve been to Jewish weddings where the “Jewish set” feels very perfunctory — you know, dance a hora or two long enough to lift the couple on chairs and then let’s get to the Motown. Or the Black Eyed Peas because they were smart enough to include the words “Mazel Tov!” in the lyrics to “I Gotta Feeling.”
So that’s why we always hear that song! I will say though, even when the Jewish music appears superficial, it does have this deeper layer of meaning. It’s very interesting how, despite all these changes, and despite the secularization process of American Jewish weddings, the music still connects people to their Jewishness. These pieces of music are so meshed with other religious components. Of course, most people see this as secular. But a lot of people connect to their Jewish identity through elements such as Jewish music, Jewish food, certain Jewish customs that are easier to accommodate in your secular lifestyle, and the music specifically has this kind of flexibility, this fluidity between the sacred and the profane.
That’s beautiful. It sort of makes the musicians secular clergy.
It’s interesting that you say that. In his history of klezmer, Walter Zev Feldman refers to the klezmer — the word itself means “musician” — as a kind of a liminal character, an interstitial character between the secular and the mundane. The music is not liturgical, but when the klezmer or the band is playing, it is an interval woven with all these other religious components and things that have ritual meaning.
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The post The hora, the hora! How Jewish wedding music got that way appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
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Experimenting with translation on today’s Yiddish stage
„פֿרײַנד און פֿײַנט, ברוכים הבאים! זײַט באַגריסט צו דער װעלט־באַרימטער װעלט־מײַסטערשאַפֿט פֿון ייִדישע קללות!“
אַזוי רעוועט אויף דער בינע אַן אָנזאָגערין (געשפּילט פֿון װיװי לאַקס) אױף ייִדיש, אײדער אַ צווייטער אָנזאָגער (פּאָל קענדלער) זעצט איבער דעם זאַץ אױף ענגליש, אָנהייבנדיק מיט דער פֿראַזע !Friends and foes.
שטייענדיק אין אַ מיזרח־לאָנדאָנער טעאַטער האָט קענדלער מיט אַ געדאַכטן שופֿר פֿאַרבעטן די צװײ קאָמאַנדעס פֿון „קללה־קעמפֿערס“ אויפֿצוטרעטן. די זיבן „שדים פֿון חילול־הכּבֿוד“, אױף בינע־לינקס, האָבן בײז געקוקט אױף די פֿינף קעמפֿערס פֿון „גולם פֿונעם עולם“, אױף בינע־רעכטס. די ריכטערין — אַן איבערגעבױגענע, 3,000-יאָר־אַלטע „דבֿורה פֿון דער תּורה“ — איז געזעסן אױפֿן שופֿט־בענקל. צװײ ספּאָרט־קאָמענטאַטאָרן אױף דער הינטערבינע האָבן אַנאַליזירנט דעם גאַנצן פֿאַרמעסט.
די קעמפֿערס האָבן גענומען שעלטן זײערע קעגנערס, קודם־כּל מיט מילדע זידלװערטער און שפּעטער מיט שװערע װייטיקן, קרענק און טױטקאָמישן שלימזל׃ „זאָל די לעבער דיר שטיקלעכװײַז אַרױספֿליִען דורך דער נאָז“!
אױף יעדער קללה האָבן די קעמפֿערס רעאַגירט אויף אַן איבערגעטריבענעם אופֿן, אַזױ װי מע וואָלט זיי געשלאָגן מיט אַ גװאַלדיקן זעץ. פֿאַר ווייטיק האָבן די אַקטיאָרן זיך געהאַלטן בײַ די זײַטן, אומגעפֿאַלן — ווידער אויפֿגעשטאַנען און דערלאַנגט צוריק. בשעת־מעשׂה האָבן די קאָמענטאַטאָרן איבערגעזעצט אַלע קללות אױף ענגליש — אָבער אױך אַרײַנגעװאָרפֿן אײגענע װיציקע באַמערקונגען. „ממש אַ פּאַטש אינעם דורכגאָס פֿון האָרמוז!“ האָט איינער אויסגערופֿן.
אַזוי ווי עס טרעפֿט אָפֿט הײַנט בײַ ייִדישע פֿאָרשטעלונגען וווּ ס׳רובֿ צוקוקער קענען נישט קיין ייִדיש, האָט מען נאָך יעדן וויץ געהערט צװײ כװאַליעס געלעכטער: אײן רעאַקציע אױף דער ייִדישער קללה גופֿא און אַ צװײטע — אַ העכערע רעאַקציע אױף דער איבערזעצונג.
שפּראַך־עקספּערימענטן אױף דער בינע
דער קללה־פֿאַרמעסט איז געװען בלױז אײנער פֿון פֿערצן קורצע אַקטן אין דער ערשטער אָװנט־פּראָגראַם פֿון די „לאָנדאָנער ייִדיש־שפּילערס“ אין יוני. די נײַע טרופּע איז אָנגעפֿירט דורך פֿינף באַקאַנטע טוערס אין דער אָרטיקער ייִדיש־סבֿיבֿה׃ סאָניאַ גאָלאַנס, װיװי לאַקס, תּמרה מיצנער, שמואל־לײבל אָגין און דוד שנײַדער (נישט קײן קרובֿ מײַנער).
כּמעט יעדע סצענע האָט אײַנגעגלידערט די ענגלישע שפּראַך אױף אַן אוניקאַלן אופֿן.
פֿאַר די צװײ קאָמעדיע־פּיעסקעלעך פֿון שלום־עליכמען און די װײניק באַקאַנטע מעלאָדראַמע פֿון ש. אַן־סקין האָט מען פּראָיעקטירט ענגלישע איבערקעפּלעך הינטער דער בינע. אין רובֿ פֿאַלן, אָבער, האָבן די שפּילערס גערעדט אָדער געזונגען אַ געמיש. אין אַן אױסצוג פֿון „דער דיבוק“, למשל, האָבן געװיסע אַקטיאָרן איבערגעזעצט וואָס אַנדערע אױף דער בינע האָבן געזאָגט. אין אַ סצענע פֿון שנײַדערס אָריגינעלער דראַמע, „לאָזן סטאַלינען לאַכן“, רעדן די ייִדישע פּאַרשױנים ייִדיש, בעת די קאָמוניסטישע פֿונקציאָנאַרן רעדן ענגליש.
אין אײן סצענע האָט מען בכלל נישט צוגעשטעלט קײן איבערזעצונגען׃ אַ נײַע ייִדיש־אַדאַפּטאַציע פֿונעם קאַנאַדער קינדערביכל „מױרעס געבורטסטאָג“ פֿון ראָבערט מונש. תּמרה מיצנער האָט נישט נאָר פֿאַרטײַטשט, פֿאַרבעסערט, דראַמאַטיזירט און רעזשיסירט די מעשׂה, נאָר אױך געשפּילט די הויפּטראָלע.
די סופֿליאָרשע תּמרה גליסאָן־פֿרידבערג האָט אַרײַנגעפֿירט די סצענע מיט אַ קורצער ענגלישער הקדמה און איז פּלוצלינג נעלם געװאָרן, צוזאַמען מיט דער ענגלישער שפּראַך.
דער סיפּור־המעשׂה פֿון „מױרעס געבורטסטאָג“ איז אַ פּשוטער. מױרע פֿאַרבעט אַלע קינדער פֿון איר גאַנצער עלעמענטאַר־שול אױף אַ שׂימחה בײַ זיך אין דער הײם. אַזאַ סך הונגעריקע קינדערלעך! װאָס טוט מען — און װאָס עסט מען?
אויף דער בינע האָט מען געשפּילט די קאָמעדיע זײער „פֿיזיש“. במשך פֿון דער סצענע האָט מיצנער איבערגעחזרט אַלע קלאַסן וואָס זי האָט פֿאַרבעטן אויף איר געבוירן־טאָג שׂימחה (קלאַס א׳, קלאַס ב׳…) און יעדעס מאָל האָט זי געניצט די זעלבע איבערגעטריבענע אָרעם־באַװעגונגען — אַ פֿיזישער פֿאָרם פֿון טעאַטער מחוץ ווערטער.
איך אַליין האָב קױם באַמערקט אַז עס פֿעלן די איבערזעצונגען. נאָר מײַן זיץ־שכנטע האָט דאָס יאָ באַמערקט. „װאָס איז געװאָרן פֿון די איבערקעפּלעך?“ האָט זי מיר געשעפּטשעט. „עפּעס אַ טעכנישער פֿעלער?“
ווי עס ווײַזט זיך אַרויס, איז דאָס בפֿירוש נישט געווען קיין טעות.
דער עולם איז דאָך נישט קײן גולם
סאָפֿי אַבלעט, אַן אַקטריסע פֿון דער טרופּע, האָט דערצײלט אַז איר יאַפּאַנישער חבֿר אין עולם, נישט קײן ייִדיש־רעדער, האָט פֿאַרשטאַנען „מױרעס געבורטסטאָג“ אױף אַן אַנדער מדרגה מחוץ דער שפּראַך. הגם ער האָט נישט געכאַפּט דעם גאַנצן סוזשעט, האָט ער אָפּגעשאַצט די קינדערשע פּאַרשױנים, זײער באַשײַמפּערלעכע פֿרײד און דערקװיקונג.
אַבלעט האַלט אַז מע דאַרף מוטיקן דעם עולם „זיך מער אומצוקוקן“ אויף דער סצענע, װײַל אַנישט װעט מען בעיקר לײענען די אייבערקעפּלעך און „פֿאַרפֿעלן די װיזועלע דערפֿאַרונג“. די איבערזעצונגען, פֿון אַבי װאָסער פֿאָרמאַט, שטעלן מיט זיך פֿאָר קאָמפּראָמיסן. בקיצור׃ נישטאָ קײן אוניװערסאַלע לײזונג.
דער הױפּט־רעזשיסאָר דוד שנײַדער האָט מיר באַשריבן די גאַנצע פּראָגראַם — װאָס הײסט אױף ענגליש „Yiddish Theatre Reboot“ — װי אַ רײ עקספּערימענטן: „אָט איז דער בופֿעט [פֿון סטראַטעגיעס]. װאָס האָט גערירט דעם עולם? װי אַזױ האָט דאָס געװירקט אױף די אַרטיסטן די נישט ייִדיש־רעדנדיקע? װי אַזױ האָבן געאַרבעט די פֿאַרשײדענע עקספּערימענטן אַרײַנצונעמען ענגליש אינעם סצענאַר?“
צװײ־שפּראַכיקײט הינטער די קוליסן
דער אַנסאַמבל שטעלט מיט זיך פֿאָר אַ מין „װען־דיאַגראַם“: אײן קרײַז מענטשן געניטע אױף דער בינעקונסט און אַ צװײטער קרײַז מענטשן באַהאַװנטע מיט ייִדיש. אַ קלײנע צאָל ייִדיש־רעדנדיקע, פּראָפֿעסיאָנעלע אַקטיאָרן פֿאַרבינדט בײדע קרײַזן.
מע האָט אױך עקספּערימענטירט הינטער די קוליסן, בײַ די װאַרשטאַטן און רעפּעטיציעס, װוּ די 20 שפּילערס זענען זיך צונױפֿגעקומען. אַ טײל האָבן נישט תּיכּף געכאַפּט די בינע־אָנװײַזונגען ווי למשל: װעלכע זײַט איז „בינע־רעכטס“? — און אַנדערע האָבן זיך געבראָכן די צונג אױף די רעפּליקן.
דער אַקטיאָר בען װאַרדי האָט פֿאַרגליכן דעם ייִדיש־טעאַטער מיט זײַנע ייִדיש־לעקציעס: „קײן מאָל װעל איך נישט פֿאַרגעסן די װערטער װאָס איך האָב געזאָגט אױף דער בינע. זײ ׳קלעפּן זיך׳ דאָרט אַ סך פֿעסטער װי אין קלאַסצימער. איך האָב זײ צוגעבונדן צו עפּעס פֿרײדיקס, קינסטלערישס און שאַפֿערישס. דאָס פֿאַרזיגלט זײ אין מײַן מוח.“
די שפּילערס האָבן צוגעהאָלפֿן אײנער דעם צװײטן. בײַ די רעפּעטיציעס האָט מען געמאַכט אַ פּאַמעלעכן איבערגאַנג פֿון ענגליש אױף ייִדיש — און געפּרוּװט צו שפּילן דראַמאַטישער, ייִדישלעכער טאַקע, נישט „פֿון האַלדז אַרױף“ (ד״ה, בלױזן מיטן קאָפּ און מיטן קול), װי אין ענגלישן טעאַטער.
שנײַדער, 63, געדענקט נאָך דעם ייִדיש־טעאַטער פֿון אַ מאָל. זײַנע באָבע־זײדע זענען געװען ייִדיש־אַקטיאָרן און טעאַטער־מאַכערס. אין די 1980ער יאָרן האָט ער אָנגעהויבן שרײַבן אַ דיסערטאַציע בײַם אָקספֿאָרד־אוניװערסיטעט לגבי ייִדיש־דראַמעס. אָבער אַנטשטאָט צו שרײַבן אַקאַדעמישע אַנאַליזן האָט ער צום סוף געשריבן אײגענע סצענאַרן און געשפּילט קאָמעדיע אין טעאַטער, טעלעװיזיע און קינאָ.
שנײַדער געפֿינט זיך אין סאַמע מיטן דיאַגראַם.
מגדל בבֿל׃ אַן אוראַלטע מעשׂה
מע דאַרף נישט מײנען, אַז די לאָנדאָנער ייִדיש־שפּילערס ראַנגלען זיך מיט שפּאָגל־נײַע פּראָבלעמען, אָדער אַז יעדער אײנער אין אַ ייִדישן טעאַטער האָט פֿריִער געקענט „דעם קיניגינס ייִדיש“.
לױטן רומענישן ייִדיש־רעזשיסאָר אַלעקסאַנדער האַוזפֿאַטער האָט דער ייִדישער טעאַטער זינט בראשית — 1876 אין רומעניע, מיט פּונקט 150 יאָרן צוריק — תּמיד געהאַט אַ לינגװיסטיש געמישטן עולם. טאַקע דערפֿאַר זענען די זינגלידער, דער ספּעקטאַקל און דאָס איבערגעזאַלצענע שפּילן אַזױ צענטראַל.
אינעם מלוכישן ייִדיש־טעאַטער פֿון בוקאַרעשט, װאָס האָט זייער אַ לאַנגן ייִחוס, שפּילט מען עד־היום אױף מאַמע־לשון מיט רומענישע איבערקעפּלעך — כאָטש נישט די אַקטיאָרן און נישט דער עולם קענען הײַנט האַלטן אַ שמועס אױף דער שפּראַך.
שױן אין די 1950ער יאָרן האָט דער בוקאַרעשטער טעאַטער פֿאַרמאָגט אַ הײַ־טעק־סיסטעם פֿאַר אױדיאָ־איבערזעצונגען. קינדװײַז פֿלעג האַוזפֿאַטער דאָרט אױסלײַען אַ הער־אַפּאַראַט אינעם פֿאָיע און אַרײַנשטעקן די שנור אין אַ שטעפּסל בײַ זײַן זיץ. דורך אײן אױער האָט ער זיך צוגעהערט צו די אַקטיאָרן אױף ייִדיש, און דורכן צװײטן — צום רומעניש־דאָלמעטשער, װאָס האָט אױף אַ באַלקאָן געשושקעט אין מיקראָפֿאָן אַרײַן.
האַוזפֿאַטערס טאַטע, זיצנדיק לעבן אים, האָט נישט געדאַרפֿט קײן איבערזעצונג. ס׳האָט נישט אויסגעמאַכט וואָס דער טאַטע האָט געלאַכט פֿון די וויצן אַ ביסל פֿריִער.
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Their art was whimsical, elegant, ‘scandalous,’ and colorful. It was also revolutionary.
Even under glass, designer Fritzi Löw’s intricately beaded “Adam and Eve” bag manages to sparkle.
One of 200 objects and artifacts on display in “Modernity and Opulence: Women of the Wiener Werkstätte,” a major new exhibition at the Jewish Museum, presented in cooperation with the MAK — Museum of Applied Arts, Vienna, the piece captures the show’s theme of casting off old ways and old fashions.
Founded in 1903 and active through 1932, the Wiener Werkstätte, or Vienna Workshops, gave women, who were entering public life and the workforce in greater numbers, a way to turn specialized artistic skills into lifelong professions, including architecture, decorative arts, ceramics and textiles. In so doing they changed the way they and women outside the workshop saw themselves.
“For some, their first opportunities for paid artistic work were through the Wiener Werkstätte, which became a vital professional pipeline for women artists while also bringing an influx of virtuosic experimentation to the workshop,” Kristina Parsons, the museum’s assistant curator, said.
At least one-quarter of the nearly 200 women who worked for the multidisciplinary collective were of Jewish faith, Jewish descent, or came from Jewish families.
While the exhibition features many Jewish artists, it spotlights Vally Wieselthier and Felice Rix-Ueno. Their prolific work in ceramics and textile design has had a lasting influence on both disciplines.
The exhibit “brings together art, design, fashion and Jewish history to illuminate the central role Jewish women played in shaping modernity, both as visionary makers and as influential patrons,” said James S. Snyder, director of the Jewish Museum.
For example, Rix’s fanciful, colorful designs appeared on toys, tableware, wallpaper and dresses. The exhibit showcases her elegant tasseled cigarette case, a chiffon cinched waist dress as well as whimsical designs for a papier-mâche bird and another for a toy carriage pulled by a dog.
The early 1900s ushered in the era of the “New Woman,” a time when women were shedding the boned and corseted fashions of the past in favor of more fluid, and even fanciful, garments. It was also a time when women increasingly pursued higher education, fought for suffrage, and challenged restrictive gender roles and clothing.
That sensibility is captured in the dozens of fashion postcards on display, which served as both advertisements and collectibles. In one, a woman wearing a sky-blue turban and a form-fitting white-and-black dress trimmed with fur glances casually over her right shoulder as she walks a small black dog. In another, a woman peers assuredly from beneath a plumed hat, her curly hair cut in a bob, scarlet red lipstick her only hint of makeup.
As Parsons explained, the Wiener Werkstätte’s fashion department allowed women to directly address public perceptions of modern femininity by designing clothes and accessories that they, and other like-minded women, could incorporate into daily life.
“Women’s dress was an important point of convergence between larger impulses toward reform and feminist politics — fashion was then, as now, understood for its capacity to be a revolutionary statement,” she said.
It’s an idea captured in Wilhelm List’s 1910 “Young Woman in Undergarments.” The oil painting depicts a woman believed to be Wally Neuzil, who later trained as a nurse. She wears ruffled “umbrella drawers,” which fall loosely around her knees, and a sleeveless chemise. The garments allow for ease of movement and comfort in one’s own skin.
The exhibition also shows how Jewish women such as the noted socialite and arts patron Adele Bloch-Bauer and the journalist and salon hostess Berta Zuckerkandl helped ensure the workshop’s success.
In turn, upper-class clientele, including progressive Jewish intellectuals, commissioned furniture and interiors, wore Werkstätte fashions, sent Rosh Hashanah greetings on Werkstätte-designed stationery, and celebrated the workshop’s creations.
During its 30 years of operation, the workshop produced hundreds of patterns. Between 1910 and 1917 alone, it created more than 500 designs. One wall of the gallery is given over to textiles. Bold reds and purples evoke coral formations, while zigzag patterns combine purple and orange with chocolate and persimmon.
Aside from textiles and illustrations, there are also dozens of ceramics, such as Susi Singer’s design for a green and gold oven that, with its cake-like tiers, looks as if it belongs in a Disney animated film.
Artist Vally Wieselthier’s mirror, fashioned from glazed earthenware and adorned with a trio of busts, hangs near a collection of her outsized ceramic heads. The heads, some of which stand nearly two-feet tall, were modeled after mythological and classical figures, but also shopkeepers and everyday people. The works drew both praise and ridicule, dismissed by one newspaper as “scandalous bimbo business.”
While the Werkstätte sputtered out in 1932 for a host of reasons, including poor management, financial troubles, a resistance to mass production, and a decline in wealthy patrons, its influence remains.
According to Parsons, “In bringing together highlights from the remarkable body of work made by Jewish women for the Werkstätte, this exhibition spotlights their creativity, ambition, and influence, while inviting visitors to explore a group of artists who embraced decoration as a central expression of modernity.”
Modernity and Opulence: Women of the Wiener Werkstätte continues through Nov. 15, 2026 at the Jewish Museum.
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‘Politically homeless’: As Maine’s Collins-Jackson Senate race kicks off, some Jewish voters find themselves adrift
(JTA) — BANGOR, Maine — With Maine’s marquee U.S. Senate race now set, many Jewish Democratic voters are confronting a difficult choice: whether concerns over newly nominated Democrat Troy Jackson’s rhetoric on Israel outweighs their longstanding opposition to incumbent Republican Sen. Susan Collins.
“I, and many Jews in Maine, certainly feel politically homeless at this point,” said Chris Myers Asch, a history teacher at Colby College and Jewish resident of Hallowell, Maine. “We don’t feel like there are candidates who actually represent us and that we trust to defend our interests, and I think that’s sad, particularly for people like myself who have been active and involved and supportive of many different candidates over the years.”
Jackson, 58, a former logger and state Senate president, secured the Democratic nomination Saturday following the party’s nominating convention to replace Graham Platner, who withdrew earlier this month following a sexual assault allegation, which he denies.
But as Jackson shored up his bid for the nomination, he began to echo the rhetoric of Platner, a staunch Israel critic whose Nazi-linked tattoo sparked concern across Maine’s Jewish community. Since joining the race, Jackson has, for the first time, embraced the term “genocide” to describe Israel’s war in Gaza and called for an end to U.S. military aid to Israel.
Those positions contrasted with the union advocacy and affordability agenda on which Jackson had built his two-decade political career in the state. They also alarmed some Maine Jewish voters, who overwhelmingly lean Democratic.
“I thought Platner was a disaster from the beginning, so pretty much anyone would be an improvement, and I think Jackson is an improvement,” said Myers Asch, who identifies as an independent. “But I can’t say I am wholeheartedly enthusiastic about him. I think he has bowed to the pressure of far-left activists on foreign policy issues, particularly on Israel, and I think that’s unfortunate.”
But while Jackson’s newfound stances on Israel have alienated some Jewish Democrats, it has not necessarily made their choice in November’s general election any easier. Many remain critical of Collins, 73, who has paired strong support for Israel with votes backing much of President Donald Trump’s agenda.
The latest polling in the race, conducted by the University of New Hampshire, finds the contest is a toss up, with Jackson receiving 49% of the vote compared with Collins’ 46%. The poll, which surveyed 1,236 likely voters from July 15 to 20, has a margin of error of +/-2.8%.
With Election Day just 99 days away, the choice facing Jewish voters carries stakes beyond Maine. Democrats see the Maine contest as one of their best pickup opportunities in the battle for control of the Senate. Independent analysts, including the Cook Political Report, rate Maine as one of the few GOP-held Senate seats that Democrats have a decent shot at this year.
While Jews make up a small share of Maine’s electorate, the community leans heavily Democratic. The state has roughly 19,000 Jews across 10,600 households, nearly 70% of which identify as liberal or very liberal, according to the 2024 Maine Jewish Community Study, conducted by Brandeis University in partnership with the Jewish Community Alliance of Southern Maine.
Maine State Rep. Laurie Osher, who is Jewish and said she intends to vote for Jackson, said that despite the anxiety many Jews have felt since Hamas’ Oct. 7 terror attack, the stakes of defeating Collins outweighed broader political concerns.
“Long before that, we have had a problem with having Susan Collins give strength and support to crazies that are Republican,” Osher said. “We need to get rid of her, and most of the Jews I know agree with that.”
Despite the Maine Jewish community’s overwhelmingly liberal bent, Myers Asch said he had heard more Jews than ever before discussing voting for Collins.
“I have heard more people talking about voting for Susan Collins than I ever have before, because I think a lot of Jews in Maine feel abandoned by the Democratic Party and feel politically homeless,” said Myers Asch.
Brian Kresge, the president of Congregation Beth Israel in Bangor, Maine, said that while he had seen peers in the Jewish community “get behind (Jackson) and trying to overlook the word genocide,” he had also observed many throwing their support behind Collins.
“It’s that hard choice a lot of Jews are weighing. What does the rhetoric against genocide really mean when he’s so good in all these other ways?” Kresge said, referring to Jackson’s strong union ties. “We like him for all of this, and so that’s the hard part. I don’t envy any Jew that hasn’t already made up their mind about the election.”
While Collins has received an endorsement from Trump, she has also broken with the president on several key votes, including in April when she backed a resolution to end U.S. military action against Iran.
Still, during his acceptance speech for the Democratic nomination Saturday, Jackson used much of his remarks to hammer Collins’ record of supporting Trump’s policies.
“Thirty years later, Susan Collins is still in Washington, so I do have one question. Who has she served? She has served Donald Trump. She voted with him 96% of the time,” Jackson said. “She helped deliver enormous tax breaks to the corporations and the wealthy on our backs, and she voted to confirm Kavanaugh and Gorsuch, the Supreme Court justice who overturned Roe versus Wade.”
Collins, who has worked to distance herself from Trump and voted with the president’s opinion 95% of the time in 2025, took her own stab at her new opponent Saturday, calling him “hyper-partisan” in an interview with News Center Maine.
“I have known him for more than 20 years, he has been an Augusta insider, and he’s very much a person who takes a hyper-partisan approach to the issues,” Collins said. “I think that’s one of the big contrasts between us. I have always prided myself in working in a bipartisan way.”
For some Jews in the state, the choice between Collins and Jackson has been much more clear-cut.
Lila Kohrman, a 33-year-old Jewish Portland resident, voted for Jackson during the nominating convention Saturday. “Susan Collins has been a senator for almost my entire life, and during that time, things have pretty clearly just gotten worse and worse for Americans,” she said.
“Jewish voters are not a monolith,” Kohrman added. “But I hope that people will be able to support a candidate who has clearly demonstrated that — and I mean Troy Jackson — that has clearly demonstrated that he cares for the lives of marginalized and oppressed people in the United States and around the world, and right now that means opposing sending money to Israel because they are using that money to commit a genocide against the Palestinian people.”
Jackson, who has raised over $1 million since announcing his bid for the nomination, is also facing a significant funding gap against Collins, who has $11 million in her campaign account, according to the latest Federal Election Commission findings.
While Jackson vowed he would not accept any “dark money,” and specifically said he won’t be taking any funding from AIPAC, Collins has received over $1.5 million in donations from at least 750 donors whose contributions were earmarked through AIPAC, according to the latest FEC findings.
The race has also already seen a massive influx of outside ad spending. Collins’ campaign, her allies and other groups aligned with Senate Republican leadership have reserved roughly $60 million in airtime through the fall, while the Senate Democrats’ main super PAC and its affiliates have purchased roughly $24 million.
This article originally appeared on JTA.org.
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