My name, Ira, means watchful in Hebrew.

It is fitting, then, that my work revolves around attention—an insistence on seeing, on abstraction, on drawing out the minute details that others overlook. I am consumed by observation, fascinated by the way shifting a composition can change meaning in an image, by the way a structure can be bound by rules that dictate its form but not its expression.

My work is a meditation on the act of looking. I abstract my own experiences, distilling them into layered compositions that demand attention. A photograph distorted until its subject is unrecognizable, a sculpture built from an abundance of repeated yet slightly varied forms, a painting that adheres to a strict internal logic—all are designed to slow the eye, to create a moment where the viewer must stop and engage. There is no passivity here; my work asks for patience, for a second and third look, for participation in the act of watching.

Many of my pieces adhere to mechanical constraints—not machines, but systems of design. Geometric repetition, rigid framing, self-imposed rules that shape each composition. My recent Lego sculptures follow this philosophy to their core. They are towers of excess, built from overwhelming, infinite detail. They are made to be deeply observed, inviting the viewer to get lost in their surfaces, to trace the patterns and structures until the whole dissolves into its many intricate parts.

In a world where time and attention are scarce commodities, my art is an act of reclamation. It asks for slowness, for engagement beyond instant gratification. It is an assertion that attention still holds value, that to watch closely is to resist, an act of agency. Through my work, I offer a moment outside the blur of our digital world—a space where watching is everything.