Carmit and Ezra Levi live in a large house in an upscale neighborhood in Rishon LeZion. The walls and corners of the house are adorned with Carmit’s paintings and sculptures. In the dining room, four paintings in warm tones come together to form a single piece on the theme of the Binding of Isaac. “I can’t let go of it,” she says. In one corner lies a sketch of a nude female model. “For instance, my mother can’t see this one. As soon as she visits, I quickly hide all the paintings.” These works won’t be part of her first solo exhibition, A View from There. The exhibition will feature only her recent paintings, which she chose to create on billboard canvases from the Nur company. Each piece measures approximately four meters in length and one and a half meters in width.

Levi, an attractive woman in her early 40s, was born in Bnei Brak to an ultra-Orthodox family. Like her siblings—four sisters and a brother—she attended a religious school. But as she approached high school, a process began that ultimately led her to leave the religious world. “The questions started in school, the doubts—why and how. You don’t get answers that satisfy you, and you see there’s another world out there calling to you, where girls go out on Friday nights and ride motorcycles. All those physical temptations were incredibly alluring. What’s interesting for a 15-year-old girl about going to synagogue every day and praying? That wasn’t exactly my top priority.”

Did you try to transfer to a secular school?
“Yes. At first, I registered at a secular school, but my father very politely took me out of there and explained that it would be better for me to study in a religious school because otherwise, I might stray into bad company, and it wouldn’t be respectable.”

Were you drawn to the secular culture beyond the physical temptations?
“Of course. I was an obsessive reader of forbidden books. Under the blanket, with a flashlight, I’d read books I wasn’t allowed to touch.”

Such as?
“I read all of Yigal Lev’s books. In high school, we studied Agnon and S. Yizhar. Every book that came out, I read—and I still do. There’s nothing related to art that I don’t love. I adore music, literature, poetry... When you love art, you can’t separate it. You embrace every kind.”

Levi’s life transformation coincided with her meeting her husband, Ezra. “During the War of Attrition, I volunteered to help wounded soldiers at Tel Hashomer hospital. On the first day, I arrived with my sister. We saw a group of soldiers and asked them how to get to the rehabilitation ward. Ezra happened to be there because he had just been transferred from one unit to another. He asked my sister for my details, and she gave them to him.”

Dating a man while still living with ultra-Orthodox parents sounds complicated.
“We dated for a year, and they had no idea. There were lies: I’m going to a friend, I’m going here, I’m going there. Forbidden love, repressed eroticism, and a strong attraction to art—all of it broke through. Later, when they found out I was dating a guy—heaven forbid—it was forbidden for me to leave the house. There were huge battles with my parents because he was secular. In our community, it’s customary to meet the family of the groom. At first, Ezra was completely rejected; there was nothing to discuss. But later, when they realized he was a wonderful person, the opposition disappeared. But it took time. They had to accept that he wasn’t religious and get used to it.”

Did you ever try realism in your art?
“Yes, and it’s not for me. I think the camera does it better.”

Levi’s works, full of colorful passion, are currently on display at a Jaffa gallery. “I got married and moved to Holon, had my four children one after another. After my third child was born, I started studying art at the Bat Yam Art Institute. It took four months.”