I’ve been divorced for about two years, but I only just got my divorce papers through. I need these original documents should I want to marry again (I do) or for various official thingamies yet unknown.
I had always imagined a big shout and a hurrah when it was made official – as in rounds of shots and jubilant break up songs. We’ve been separated almost a decade, it was something I wanted and I’ve already been in a ‘new’ relationship for seven years. Bizarrely, I didn’t even know when I actually got divorced, no notification from lawyers or courts. My son did tell me, but I dismissed it as a mistake. When I found out the deed was done, I’d already been divorced for a while – more than a year. It was anti-climatic when I discovered. Receiving the papers was even worse. It was a profound aesthetic disappointment.
The official documents are ugly and plain. They’re poorly laid out with an old-fashioned and boring font. I imagined some kind of crest or a black border or at least some headings. Nope.
Well, I couldn’t let that slide. I decided to make my own.
I took inspiration from both the Ketubah (a marriage contract) and a Get (a writ of divorce). Ketubot have long inspired me. If you’re unfamiliar with them they’re an essential part of a Jewish wedding – and they don’t have to be fancy, but traditionally they are. (Check out a whole bunch of historic designs at ketubah.com). They set out the obligations of marriage, including if the marriage doesn’t last. They’re signed and witnessed and often displayed during wedding festivities.
For the wording I turned to the Get. These are problematic. They’re one-sided (men can issue them). And if you had a Jewish wedding, then divorce and don’t have a Get – religiously you can’t get married again. In most places of the world and in most communities, this only serves as an annoyance. In Israel, where family law is entwined with religious law this can leave women chained inside a marriage they no longer want and which in effect no longer exists. In Orthodox and ultra-Orthodox communities in the diaspora, a woman without a Get can suffer social consequences, even if a civil marriage has been dissolved and tidied away.
I don’t need a Get. I wasn’t Jewish when I married and neither was my ex. I didn’t have a Jewish wedding. I probably won’t be able to have a Jewish wedding going forward unless my partner converts (in the UK anyway). Since he’s Jew-ish already and is a full partner in establishing our Jewish home, it would feel weird to convert for a wedding where there will be no children and since we can have a Jew-ish wedding which is close enough. Anyway, it’s not up to me. (Which reminds me, I need to book that first appointment with the rabbi.) But I was Jewish when I received that shande of a decree absolute. I wanted my own fancy document since a more raucous celebration no longer felt appropriate.
I took inspiration from the Get wording and form and composed my own 12 line poetic decree absolute. It’s a lino cut printed on white Fabriano – using a rolling press. I’m pretty sure it’s Rubine Red straight out of the tube. If I were to do it again, I’d reduce a lot of the noise in the paper cut inspired design. I may do that, as it would be a great border for future documents, including a Ketubah, though perhaps not printed in such a lusty red and it won’t be my Ketubah. It’s hand lettered by me using red and black inks, with some inspiration from fonts designed to look a bit like Hebrew.
I’ll erase the pencil marks before framing. Or maybe I’ll never frame it, since it’s kinda served its purpose already.
