Haj Paj Creative
Create Courageously
Haj Paj Creative was established in 2019 to sell creative works and Introduce unique collaborative endeavors. The name of this site comes from my brother Daniel’s nick name for me. Danny was also an artist and this website is dedicated to him and our mutual love of art. Danny passed away suddenly last October and I miss him every day. My sister calls me Haj for short. My real name is Haya. It’s pronounced hī-yah. Hebrew for life, living, being, etc. My understanding is that it has meaning in other languages as well. But Haj Paj seems appropriate for my creative purpose.
In the coming months I will post different works, ideas and collaborative projects. My vision is to create a website that connects me and my work to others in a real and interesting way. Rather than just post pictures of my work, I would like others to be a part of the art some how. I believe that those who appreciate art should be more than passive observers. I enjoy when I am and when others are active participants in art and actually become the medium or vehicle. This is a personal experiment for me. I suppose that could be said about all art, that it’s an experiment. Hopefully, you all will play along.
“Creativity takes courage.”
Henri Matisse
(Image Untitled, 2018, Ceramic, Haya Cuzick)
Quirky Self Portraits
My Portfolio
My work is informed by childhood memories of family and friends, teachers, neighbors and pets; Of my mom as a teacher; Being a daddy’s girl; Playing and fighting with my siblings; and growing up in Compton and South Gate as the youngest of six, trying on everyone else’s shoes until I finally found my own pair.
Recurring symbols are crows and blackbirds, pigeons, dogs, animals of all sorts, houses, chairs, trees and hair. One way to describe most of my work is probably as quirky self portraits. It seems obvious now but it took me a while to realize that I was actually doing self portraits. I couldn’t see the forest for the trees.
Yellow Voile 1970
Remembering
9”x12” Painting
Acrylic on canvas 2018
Self Portrait as a Young Woman
Summer 2016
9”x12” Drawing Graphite on paper
Self Portrait as a Crow
Wounded
35mm Photograph
8”x10”2012
I found a blackbird dead in our backyard one morning when I was about four years old. I thought it was sleeping. I tried to wake it. Looking closer I saw it was muddy and felt the need to bathe it. So, I carried it into the house and filled the bathroom sink with water and started to clean it’s ebony wings. My father who worked nights was sleeping and must have awaken to the sound of rushing water. He found me trying to care for the bird. The rest is not so clear in my memory except for the gentle way my father explained that the bird wasn’t going to wake up while taking my tiny hands out of the muddy water.
Perpetual Limbo
Installation, 2012
The Bridge (Perpetual Limbo)
Tree branches, Muslin, concrete, hair
“This bridge is a living thing with hair and teeth and bones and tissue. I am certain one day it will swallow me whole and I’ll never be heard from again. “— Miriam Moses, excerpt from, “The Prophet of Ilmanju”
The Vincent Thomas bridge connects Terminal Island to San Pedro crossing over the LA Harbor. I cross it every day, twice a day on my way to work. Just over a mile from end to end, 185 ft above the harbor, at dawn the sun behind me as I travel west, I dread the impending day. But it’s how I make my living. It doesn’t feel like living. I dream of something else, something better, a meaningful life!
On my way home, especially on moonlit evenings, I pray for strength, for wisdom and for opportunity. I imagine the moon has some special power to grant my wishes.
The Bridge’s foreboding towers loom, their giant X’s reminding me of my reality. Strike one! Strike two! I’m down to my last chance. But I’ll be up again in the morning, heading in the opposite direction wishing I was brave enough to STOP crossing this Bridge, to escape this limbo.
**”The Prophet of Ilmanju” is a fictitious novel and Miriam Moses is a fictitious author.
Sacred Secrets
Installation
Wood and porcelain 2002
Self Portrait as a Young Woman
Winter
9”x12” Drawing Graphite on paper 2017
Long Walk
From Procession, 2000
18” Figures Clay and Glazes
“Procession” Series
In May of 2000, I completed a series of vignettes made of ceramic materials. The series depicted groups of human-like figures with animal-like heads moving in procession behind pallbearers carrying a casket filled with crows. Looking back I realize how dark this work may have seemed to some. I suppose in a way it was dark. It’s always been hard for me to admit that because I would never want to be labeled as a brooding artist, although I have my moods like everyone else.
When I started this body of work I didn’t have a real plan. It evolved from a deep desire to render the human figure. But I soon became bored with simply just the body. I found myself trying to find more meaning in the figures.
These figures were roughly 18 inches tall, about the size of a Barbie doll. The size was what comfortably fit in my hands as I modeled the figures. These “dog and bird people “ represented the very worst of human animal nature as well as the best. At the time I was making them, I had many questions about human behavior: what drives certain behaviors? How much control do we have over those behaviors? What’s learned? What’s instinct? What’s just habit? In the process I learned a great deal about myself and what it means for me to be human. I discovered a tenderness and kindness I hadn’t noticed in myself before. I felt love and compassion for the little figures and what they seemed to be experiencing.
Of the series, very few pieces have survived. Images of the series are poor quality as they are photographs of slides. The original slides were made before the digital era. It remains an important body of work to me.
Prose, Free Verse and Essays
Experiments in Writing
Sometimes I find the best medium for a piece is language. Certain subjects seem to wish to be written rather than painted or sculpted. I have a great appreciation for writers and their ability to paint pictures, to give shape and depth to images with words. The following pieces are my humble attempt to do what they do.
Growing Up
At the Water Park
Water park?!! What water park?!!!
Our water park was either the front yard
Or the backyard
With my dad holding the hose so that the water would fall in an arch-over us as we ran under it trying to get through before he dropped it soaking us
Or an oscillating sprinkler that we took turns jumping over
Or a yellow plastic table cloth, some black garden trash bags and a garden hose
That’s right! Ours was twice as long as a standard Slip n’ Slide!!
Occasionally, it was balloons filled with water
Not “water balloons”
No such thing back then
Just regular 8”, 10” or 12” birthday balloons flung unwieldy like giant amoebas
Then plastic soda bottles were invented
Game changer!!
The original “Super Soaker” was a 2 liter Pepsi bottle filled with water and a hole poked in the cap
No long lines
Or bratty strangers fighting for place in line or peeing in the pool
No panicked mothers looking for their kids
Just the six of us
And our imaginations
On hot Southern California summer afternoons
Prose for a Friday Afternoon
Diary of a Retail Associate
Detained
Standing in the flicker of the fluorescent lighting waiting....It's protocol to have a female present when a female shoplifter is detained. Lucky me. Born with ovaries. Lucky her. Homeless on a rainy day. About to go to jail. She'll get a hot meal and a dry bed. Strange way to secure shelter. My big complaint is that I have to stand here. Waiting... Earning a wage but waiting ...The arresting officer's attempt to compromise her silence. "What's your occupation?" "What's your social?" Nothing. "You think this is a game?" Staring up at the ceiling she says nothing. Says everything. Of course it's a game. But she's got nothing to lose. I have everything. A family, a house, a car, a job, the fear of losing it all. Her objective is to survive. Mine is to be satisfied. Each of us devises our respective strategies, the fluorescent lighting incessantly zapping, laughing at the absurdity of our situations.
