Professor of Hebrew Literature
The Jewish Theological Seminary of America

I have known Ephraim Lisitzky as a friend for more than forty years. I was witness to some of his life experiences, his tribulations and spiritual struggles in the course of his development. In coming now to discuss his creative work, I am very careful not to confuse the man with the artist. For the two, close as they are in their roots, are not always identical in stature.

Lisitzky first impressed me with his strange, wistfully eloquent sadness. Here beside you sits or walks a man, all ears and attention, of few words, as if he were guarding some secret too precious to be disclosed even to someone intimate. He occasionally utters brief, rhythmic sentences in a sad melody like some old Talmudic chant, and continues to meditate in silence. It is a silence palpable and many-faceted: There is a humility in it, submission, and resignation. Yet, how remarkable: This taciturn, naive man is also a speaker when he so desires, a popular orator who knows how to move an audience with flaming, exuberant oratory and rich . . .