My father was a man full of heart, a man who loved people, a man who loved, and really loved life.
My father was born and raised in Kibbutz Ein Shamer and was a fine farmer. He was a photographer at a time when photography was a hobby but not a profession. He was considered one of the best photographers in the Kibbutz.
My father photographed people, a lot of people – lots of life, lots of happiness, excitement and views – his personal “path”. In his photos there is plenty of loving. My father was a man of love and giving.
When I was 6 years old my father was killed in the Six-Day war. Today, at 2014, I am happy to dedicate a place in my space and to present his photos. His photos are probably the roots of my love to photography and to people.