Idols of The Sun is the latest series of sculptures from the internationally exhibited Israeli sculptor Dan Reisner – a never before fully seen series that channels his own PTSD to explore the collective trauma of conflict and propagate the cause of peace. Reisner suffered delayed post-traumatic stress disorder as a result of his army service as a combat medic in Lebanon in the 1980s, in which he treated multiple victims of conflict with profound life-changing injuries. The second Intifada, beginning in Israel in October 2000 triggered deeply embedded trauma, and over the last 25 years he has turned this inner crisis into creativity, creating works of art that deep-dive into his lived experience. Now, as the Middle East once again grapples with the fallout of conflict, he is ready to share with the world his most personal series of sculptures to date, in the hope of shining a timely light on human loss and the ultimate folly of war. Idols of The Sun series, which consists of dozens of small bronze sculptures that refer to Reisner’s continual efforts to process and interpret the post-traumatic stress disorder he suffered following his time serving in the army, and shed light not only on the horrors of war, but also on trauma as a catalyst for positive change. In this rare interview with House Collective, he tells us why art holds the power to heal on a global scale.
Why are you drawn specifically to figurative sculpture, and who are your greatest influences in that medium?
Figurative sculpture has always felt like my most natural language. The human form is universal, yet profoundly personal – it carries the tension between the inner self and the external world. Working with the figure allows me to express emotions that words can never fully capture. As an artist, I see myself as part of a long tradition, continuing the lineage of sculptors from ancient Greece and Rome, through the Renaissance, and into modern times. I feel a deep connection to these historical works and their creators, who have left behind expressions that still resonate today. Archaeology, in particular, inspires me. There’s something profound in standing before a piece that has survived the passage of thousands of years, carrying with it the intention and spirit of the artist.
What do you feel when you encounter a work that connects with you?When I encounter a work of art that deeply moves me, it’s because it resonates with a certain inner place I am experiencing at that moment. There’s a connection between the artist’s expression and my own inner landscape, as if their idea mirrors an inner feeling I am processing. I take that connection and, in a sense, bring it back out into the world through my own lens. It becomes a personal reflection, reinterpreted through my own emotional and artistic filter. In that way, there’s something similar to the role of an actor – I embody the emotion or idea, but present it through my own “portrait.” The original inspiration becomes transformed by my experience and re-presented as my own work. Some of my most unforgettable encounters with art have been moments of deep personal connection, like standing before Brâncuși’s Endless Column in a small town in southern Romania or in front of the Charioteer of Delphi. In those moments, I was overcome by the profound simplicity and depth of these works, their ability to communicate across time and culture. There are no words for the feeling of being in their presence; it’s something that is absorbed physically, almost spiritually. I have a deep admiration for ancient artists like Thutmose, who sculpted the iconic bust of Nefertiti. His understanding of not just form but of the universe itself, as expressed through his work, continues to inspire me. To think that his creation was found some 3,000 years after it was made, and still speaks so powerfully, is awe-inspiring. His work, like that of many others from across history, reflects an artistic consciousness that I aspire to tap into through my own practice.
How about more modern influences?
Modern influences like Giacometti, Brâncuși, and Rodin have also shaped my path. Giacometti’s figures capture the fragility of existence, while Brâncuși’s approach to reducing form to its essence speaks to my desire to convey meaning with simplicity. Rodin’s emotional depth, his ability to bring the complexity of the human condition to life, is some thing I’ve always admired. Ultimately, my art takes me into the depths of my personal experiences, but it also connects to something much larger – the universal aspects of human existence. By sculpting the figure, I’m able to confront and externalise inner conflicts, moments of healing, and transformation. It is a journey inward that also contributes to the collective experience of humanity, continuing the dialogue that has been ongoing for millennia.
What do you hope a viewer will take from the experience of Idols of The Sun?
Speaking generally, when someone encounters my work, I want it to resonate with them on a personal and emotional level. I don’t aim to impose a specific message or feeling, but rather to create an open space for reflection, where the viewer can connect with their own experiences and emotions. I see my sculptures as mirrors – reflecting something internal back to the viewer, allowing them to find their own meaning in the forms and figures. The process of making art allows for a deep internal release, a transformation of inner turmoil or joy into something tangible, something that can be shared with the world. Similarly, experiencing art can have a healing effect, offering moments of reflection, catharsis, and connection. It creates a space where the boundaries between self and other dissolve, and where we, as individuals, can experience our place within the broader collective. Art, in this way, becomes a tool for healing – not just personal healing, but healing on a societal or even global scale. Each piece in Idols of The Sun represented a step in my personal healing, a release from the burden of trauma. But in creating these personal works, I realised that I wasn’t just healing myself; I was contributing to the collective understanding of trauma, recovery, and the potential for transformation.
What is the most profound reaction you have had to a work?
A good friend of mine came to my studio one day and told me she 'needed' to buy my sculpture Uplifting. I was curious about her choice of words, so I asked why she said ‘needed’, and what was happening in her life that made the sculpture such an urgent desire. She shared the sad news that she and her husband were going through a divorce, and she hoped that the sculpture might inspire him to uplift himself through their difficult time. Some time later, she told me that although they had divorced, every time she passed by the sculpture, it gave her a sense of relief, as if it offered her a small moment of solace in the midst of her pain. I was touched to hear this. A year or two after that, she shared with me that she had become a couple therapist. She arranged her therapy space so that Uplifting was behind her, where she could see it while she worked with couples, using it as a reminder of the idea of uplifting in her practice. Then, the last time we met, she told me she had made a change – she placed the sculpture next to her so that the couples could see it during their sessions. She explained that at some point with each couple, they would stop and talk about the sculpture and what it represented. That, to me, is the greatest achievement and the true reason to create. It’s not just about producing an object, but about making something that can inspire, guide, or bring comfort to someone else.
Idols of The Sun comes to the UK this summer. Find out more about the artist here.
Images (top to bottom): Shell, Idols of The Sun, sculpture in bronze, Dan Reisner; Pupa Blooming, Idols of The Sun, sculpture in bronze, Dan Reisner; Mirroring, sculpture in bronze, Dan Reisner; Passion, sculpture in bronze, Dan Reisner. All images courtesy of the artist. Photography by Avi Amsalem
