Ketubah creativity is flourishing thanks to the Internet, digital technology and the wildly creative minds of artists.

A Mark Rothko painting. F. Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald on a beach. And, a lone cottage nestled among the Alpine foothills.

Jessica Carew Kraft: Inspired by the modernist blocks of artist Paul Klee, this ketubah also incorporates a tree of life, a hamsa and “Ani le dodi v’dodi li (I am my beloved and my beloved is mine).”

At first glance, this list has seemingly little to do with Jewish weddings. That is, unless Jessica Carew Kraft is doing the glancing. For the San Francisco-based artist, just about anything—even a cultish following of Zelda Fitzgerald—can inspire spiritually infused, highly personal ketubot, or Jewish wedding contracts.

In order to achieve such a high level of personalization, Kraft employs something of a shared creative process with her clients. She starts by having couples think about how they want to communicate their identity as a couple. Then she assigns a little homework. She asks the pair to e-mail her evidence of their collective style. Some send pictures of a favorite outfit, a print they purchased together or a throw pillow from the living room sofa. Others direct Kraft to their wedding Web site, a link to their favorite hiking trail or a sketch of their huppah design. Kraft takes the images, along with a few she collects on her own, and creates a digital collage to reference as she works—first digitally, and ultimately on canvas or paper with her paintbrushes and calligraphy pens.

So when one couple presented Kraft with a snapshot of them dancing at a club, Kraft created a ketubah filled with movement and fused with modern and traditional imagery. She turned the actual photo into a slate-blue silhouette of the wedding couple boogying under a leafy tree of life. Kraft surrounded them with similarly silhouetted hora dancers done in hues of purple and blue and set the whole scene against a background made to look like pieces of Paul Klee paintings.

“My husband says I do hip-hop ketubot,” laughs Kraft, who made her first ketubah in 2003. “I take samples from other artists.”

Kraft’s style allows couples to put a distinctly modern stamp on an ancient document, an idea that seems to appeal to more and more people on the Jewish wedding scene. Thanks to the Internet, digital technology and the wildly creative minds of artists like Kraft, long gone are the days when ketubah choices were limited to mass-produced certificates filled with standard language and stamped with a gold Star of David.

“There has been a resurgence and interest in ketubot partly because people have access in a way that they never had before,” says Rabbi Toby Manewith of Washington, D.C.’s Temple Micah. “It used to be that you had to go to the one Jewish bookstore in town and maybe talk to someone who intimidated you. But now you can go online at home. You feel comfortable searching through 10 different texts and hundreds of designs because you already know how to do it.”

Of course, ketubot existed long before anyone ever considered Googling the word. About 2,000 years old, the ketubah in its traditional form is a legal contract that, among other things, safeguarded the financial rights of a woman by promising her a minimum monetary settlement if the marriage should end. The amounts were standard: 200 zuz for a virgin and 100 zuz for a woman who had been previously married.

“The price was significant—far more than one might have paid for a home at the time,” explains Manewith, who adds that ketubot were written in Aramaic, the vernacular language of the time, so as to be easily understood. “Basically, it was a financial incentive so that men didn’t discard their wives without thought when younger or otherwise more appealing versions came along.”

Although it sounds dated by today’s standards, the document stood out in its time. Prior to its existence, a wife whose husband died or left her had no means of supporting herself and most likely was left destitute and unable to care for herself. Judaism was among the first cultures to protect women from this fate. The traditional ketubah also specifies the woman’s right to food, clothing and conjugal rights.

Although most Orthodox Jews still use the traditional Aramaic text that speaks about the transfer of property and refers to the bride as a virgin, many liberal Jews outside of Israel now embrace the document as a vehicle for outlining their commitment to one another and their marriage. (Israeli law dictates that Orthodox ketubot be used when marrying in the Jewish State.) Standard Reform, Reconstructionist, Humanist, Conservative, interfaith and even secular texts exist outside Israel, and rabbis and designers sometimes offer several choices in each category. Many Conservative ketubot now also include a Lieberman Clause, named for its author, Professor Saul Lieberman, which stipulates that a husband will give his wife a “get,” or Jewish divorce, if the marriage ends.

Tsilli Pines: “I am my beloved’s and my beloved is mine” is symbolized by two birds, perched in a tree together. Silk or cotton thread is sewn onto the branches and hand-tied at the back.

“There’s lots of space for a lot of different takes,” says artist Tsilli Pines, whose stunning minimalist ketubot reflect her passion for Asian art. “What’s going on in the Jewish community in America with pluralism and people’s varying relationships with Judaism make it a very fertile environment to create new things. People want to engage with tradition, but also see an opportunity for something new.”

Rabbi Jill Jacobs and her husband embraced this sentiment when they decided to look beyond prewritten wording and write their own ketubah for their 2007 wedding. A Conservative rabbi from New York, Jacobs carefully constructed language she deemed halachically valid, according to their interpretation of halacha, or Jewish law. In the text they write about supporting one another and pledge to build a household committed to Jewish learning, equality and social justice. Jacobs commissioned Kraft to do the calligraphy and artwork.

“It feels in keeping with the ketubah’s roots,” Jacobs says. “It used to be more of a living and breathing document that somehow got frozen. We are unfreezing it.”

Individuals who want to write their own wedding contract but don’t feel they have the skill to do so benefit from the services of Leslie Pereira, the self-proclaimed “ketubah maven.” From her studio in upstate New York, Pereira guides couples through the process of writing a text, which she then sends out to be translated into Hebrew, if the couple wishes. Pereira finds that sometimes clients don’t have positive associations with Hebrew for various reasons, so they opt for English only.

“Some people say these kinds of ketubot are not kosher,” she says. “I know I’m on one end of the spectrum. I try to give people permission to do what they need to do. I want them to feel validated and confirmed when they see their ketubah. To me it feels like a good thing overall if you can help people feel connected to their culture.”

A social worker, Pereira brings more than creative skills to her drawing board. As a therapist, she employs the idea of narrative theory—the telling of one’s personal story as an empowering tool for change and deeper personal awareness. When Pereira meets with couples who want her to design their ketubah, she takes a similar approach. “When I ask a couple to tell the story of their relationship, what comes up is so rich and so charged,” says Pereira, who has been making ketubot for 20 years. “Then I reflect on images that stand out. I get so much out of it.”

On the design end, Pereira sees certain themes, like nature, coming up over and over again. Trees growing toward one another, blooming flowers, and vines winding in a circular motion appear in many of her commissions. A watercolor made to look like a Persian carpet and based on an actual 19th-century ketubah remains among the artist’s favorites. “I like to think of marriage as a journey, as a magic carpet ride, so it’s fitting,” she says. 

Although far more modern in her design aesthetic than Pereira, Portland-based Pines also counts nature among her most popular artistic themes. Clean lines and a simple color palette define her work, which has become wildly popular in the short time she has been selling it. She offers five ketubot—“Cherry Blossoms,” “Tree/Roots,” “Flowers in Bloom,” “Beloveds” and “Many Moons”—and a menu of Hebrew and English texts. Pines gives all of her ketubot a hand-crafted element by sewing silk or cotton thread into the paper, often along the lines of tree roots or flower stems.

“There’s a lot of floral design in ketubah art going way back,” says Pines, who cites the new craft movement and Chinese and Japanese art among her creative influences. “I try to keep with themes that seem meaningful in this context, but give them a modern take.”

Michelle “Shell” Rummel: My most celebrated design, the Life Dance ketubah, honors the joyous wedding dance through biblical symbolic imagery depicted in a fresh and modern way.

Experimenting with new materials, like Pines’ silk thread or Kraft’s digital photographs, further speaks to the current trend of blending the old with the new. Thanks to prolific ketubah artist Michelle “Shell” Rummel, glass can now be added to the list. In spring 2008, Rummel collaborated with California artist Nolan Everitt to have her “Bashert…Meant To Be” ketubah design etched into glass. After the text is signed at the wedding, it is framed behind the glass.

“I’m not a traditional ketubah artist by any means,” says Rummel, owner of Ketubah Tree in Fairfax, Va. “I make my living by taking traditional symbols and interpreting them in a new way. I have a whole vocabulary of images at this point.”

Rummel often folds the themes of love, family and nature into her contemporary ketubot, but wedding contracts are just a part of her successful business. Ketubah Tree offers a range of original wedding products, including invitations, programs, huppot (marriage canopies), place cards and favors inspired by Rummel’s romantic designs, which often pay homage to Austrian artist Gustav Klimt. Rummel’s line does not stop at wedding art. She also sells pieces that celebrate various lifecycle events, developing what she calls “customers for life.”

Jodi Geller Levine is one such customer. She found Ketubah Tree four years ago while surfing the Internet as part of her wedding planning. Following the birth of her son two years ago, Levine came back to the site to order a baby-naming certificate that mimicked the colors and design of her ketubah. This year she added an artistic print to her collection and now, as she and her husband begin house hunting, she’s eyeing a new home blessing. “Finding our ketubah sparked an interest in Jewish art that we didn’t expect to happen,” Levine says. “The traditions of Judaism are important to us and we want to raise our child knowing his heritage, but the visuals of it were lacking in our home. Now when I am thinking about buying new art, I check and see what Shell has new. It complements the rest of the work we have and also gives us a more Jewish feel in our home.”

Jeanette Kuvin Oren: The Sydney Opera House inspired the ketubah (above) created for a couple who met while studying abroad in the Australian city; Michelle and Ari Teplitz on their wedding day with the ketubah inspired by the stained glass windows behind the bima of the synagogue where she grew up. Rabbi Richard Eisenberg is at left.

Making this kind of relevant Jewish art is what draws many couples to ketubot with customized aspects. Judaic artist Jeanette Kuvin Oren’s magnificent commissions bring the concept of truly personalized Jewish art alive in full vivid color. Oren combines papercutting, painting, calligraphy and silk dyeing to fashion individual masterpieces for her clients.

“My style is to include the personal references, but make them subtle so at first glance, it is an elegant piece of art and the details are really when you go up close,” says Oren, who made her first ketubah 23 years ago for her own wedding. “My hope is 10 years later, your children can look at it and say ‘Oh, Mommy, why is this there?’ For example, I did one recently where the bride, Michelle Teplitz, had grown up and was being married in our synagogue, Congregation Bnai Jacob in Woodbridge, Conn. I photographed the stained glass behind the ark and papercut the ketubah to look like the stained glass. The text is where the ark would be. It was about the place she got married, her history—and it happens to be a beautiful synagogue.”

When Karen Prevezer and her husband-to-be mentioned to Oren that they met in Australia, the Connecticut-based artist created a detailed papercut of the Sydney Opera House as the centerpiece of their ketubah. She dyed blue silk to go behind the papercut, creating a watery effect, and placed the text beneath the intricate cutout.

“My husband David and I thought it would be nice to have our ketubah be a work of art, following the recent trend we have seen with friends and family,” Prevezer says. “We also thought this would be a perfect gift to receive from my grandmother, as we wanted to have something memorable from her. I’m American and my husband is British, but we met on study abroad in Sydney, Australia. Jeanette came up with the idea of using the Sydney Opera House as the main image, but there are symbols of all three countries integrated into the papercut. There are also roses throughout, to represent my grandmother, Rose.”

From the Sydney Opera House to modern hora dancers to cherry blossoms, ketubot can be as diverse as the couples who commission them. Be it for a secular couple in Madison, Wis., or a Modern Orthodox couple from Brooklyn, the document speaks to the couple’s personal and religious commitment to one another and their faith.

“For some people, ketubot have become a very personal expression of their commitment, an extension of the way they live their Jewish life,” Manewith observes. “It’s an interesting vehicle, at a pivotal point in their life, to think about what their Judaism means to them. They have to pick a cake or a color scheme or how many people stand up for them, but a ketubah gives them a chance to look at their Judaism—in some cases, it might even be about a Judaism they left behind.”

And, like most worthwhile life endeavors, the journey often turns out to be as significant as the destination. Crafting a ketubah’s look or sentiment gives couples an opportunity to engage in a creative and spiritual activity with one’s partner. “Designing a ketubah can be a profoundly moving and potentially spiritual experience for a couple,” Kraft adds. “And it’s fun. This is a lot different than counting salmon orders for your reception.”

Writer Beth Kanter and her husband commissioned their own ketubah 13 years ago. Beth’s work has appeared in numerous publications including Parents, the Chicago Tribune and Fodor’s Washington, D.C., guidebook series.