It’s hard to relax during a war. It’s even harder to do so without feeling slightly guilty. But I took a break one evening this week. The aim was to sit back in the plush comfort of a theater seat for a couple of hours and watch the Israel Ballet’s production of Don Quixote.
Ahead of the performance, just after the standard announcement about turning off phones, a somber voice declared: The Jerusalem Theatre bows its head in memory of the fallen, wishes a speedy recovery for the wounded, stands by our soldiers, and awaits the speedy return of the hostages. So much for escapism – my first urge was to check my phone and see if anything new had happened.
The performance was excellent and had the desired effect of transporting me to a different world for a while amid a whirl of dance, music, and colorful costumes.
As the final curtain fell, like the rest of the audience, the first thing I did was reach for my phone. I soon learned that a woman had been killed in a direct rocket hit on her home in the northern village of Shfaram, and dozens of people had been wounded in a rocket attack in Ramat Gan, the neighborhood next to Tel Aviv.
Reality hit home without any of the grace of the ballet dancers I had just been admiring.
The identities of the latest victims are more proof that Iranian-funded Hezbollah rockets kill Jews, Druze, Muslims, and Christians alike. It’s indiscriminate firing on all citizens of the State of Israel at the rate of some 200 rockets a day. I’d like to point out that this is a war crime, but I sometimes feel the battle against the anti-Israel sentiment and narrative is as effective as Don Quixote’s tilting his spear at a windmill.
For those of you who are at this point yelling, “What about the poor Gazans! They don’t get to go to the theater!” You’re right. That’s because Hamas imposes Sharia law on the Gazans and continues to be dedicated to destroying Israel rather than preserving the arts and life itself.
Don Quixote wasn’t my only recent musical interlude. Earlier this month, I attended a powerful performance of Puccini’s Madama Butterfly staged by the Jerusalem Opera and the Jerusalem Symphony Orchestra. The tragic storyline offered little in the way of solace in hard times and I wasn’t the only person who jumped at the sound of an off-stage cannon shot.
It’s stage fright of a different kind. We are literally jumpy as the war rages on for more than a year. When the cannons roared, the muses were temporarily silenced.
BUTTERFLIES have been on my mind lately ever since I saw the Tower of David’s On the Other Side exhibition by artist Zadok Ben-David. Born in Yemen and now based in London and Portugal, Ben-David is an Israeli artist with a well-earned international following. His exhibits fit perfectly among the Tower of David’s old stone walls.
In terms of artistic impact, the exhibition deserves the fame and success of the Chihuly glass exhibition at the end of the 1990s. Sadly, there are few foreign tourists in Jerusalem these days, although the many volunteers who have come to help in any way they can during the war are warmly welcomed.
Among Ben-David’s works is a huge, stainless-steel disc suspended theatrically in a darkened room. Titled The Other Side of Midnight, one side is full of 2,000 hand-painted colorful butterflies with human bodies, while the other side displays a similar number of brown, human-insects.
During a press tour, Ben-David explained the concept behind the installation. “Everybody loves butterflies,” he noted. “If a butterfly settles on you, you feel special. However, if you remove the butterfly’s beautiful wings, it is just an insect, like any other, something you would brush off and possibly feel repulsed by.” Yet it’s the same creature.
Make of the metaphor what you want, there is certainly a message in it about beauty and ugliness and our attitudes to them.
The Tower of David’s On the Other Side exhibition runs until April 2025. In an article in The Jerusalem Post, TOD director Eilat Lieber said, “At first glance, the pieces reveal a vibrant world of color and beauty. Only on second glance does a darker, more tragic note emerge, resonating with the existential fear we’ve all recently faced. The name of the exhibition holds the complexity of our lives, the complexity of humankind, as well as that of nature.”
Jerusalem is currently bursting with arts and entertainment – don’t fancy opera or ballet, then how about the International Oud Festival? Or one of the many concerts where West and East combine?
Last week I attended an exhibition opening at A Studio of Her Own by my friend Yael Oren. Not only was her distinctive artwork thought-provoking but the building was charming. A stone structure in the Katamon neighborhood that used to be the home and atelier of painter Pinchas Litvinovsky, it’s quaint, with a popular café and store.
Among those attending was Ram Ozeri, director of the Jerusalem Biennale. There is just one week left in which to see the No Words exhibition Ozeri curated together with Hillie Wurtman Moyal to commemorate the first anniversary of the October 7 mega-atrocity. The exhibition can be seen at the Biennale’s home, the iconic former Shaare Zedek building on Jaffa Street. There’s a gallery talk on November 26.
This week is also the last chance to see Sam Griffin’s solo show Second Draft at The Jewish Museum of Heichal Shlomo Cultural Center, also part of the Biennale and dedicated to Griffin’s experiences as a soldier and an artist during the war. The closing event will be held on December 2.
Ozeri hopes to take the Jerusalem Biennale exhibitions abroad, as he has done in the past – particularly to the US. But he admits he is finding it harder to find venues this year due to the political climate. Still, he won’t give up. The proverbial show must go on.
Enjoyment during a time of war
I OFTEN feel bad about enjoying myself while the rockets are still falling, with lethal results; the 101 hostages are still being held in Gaza – dead or alive; some 80,000 people are still displaced from their homes in North and South Israel – not that the international media and community cares about Israeli refugees; and soldiers, including thousands of reservists, are risking their lives. But I remind myself that this is what the soldiers are fighting for – so life can go on. In the words that have come to be associated with the survivors of the Supernova music festival: “We will dance again.”
When I left the Jerusalem Theatre, I debated whether to walk home or wait for a bus. As I deliberated, I realized that Jerusalem is possibly the only capital city in the Western world where a short, gray-haired woman can feel safe walking by herself close to midnight. It’s one of those ironies, how safe it feels despite the ongoing rockets and terror attacks.
Bus stops in Jerusalem and across the country are decorated with posters of the hostages and stickers commemorating many of the 800+ soldiers who have fallen in the war and the 1,200 people massacred on Oct. 7, 2023.
The stickers project, with a photo and slogan of the person being remembered, is incredibly Israeli. Most show a beautiful, smiling, forever-young face and words of wisdom on enjoying life, loving one another, and spreading joy.
Some of those commemorated I know personally; others just through projects like this. Sgt. 1st Class Aviel Melkamu, a member of the elite Egoz reconnaissance unit, asks the poignant question: “Have you looked at the skies today?”
Yogev Aharon’s face is seen against the backdrop of a Golani Brigade flag and the words: “As long as someone remembers me, I’m alive.”
Golani commander Capt. Dekel Swissa permanently gives the order: “Don’t forget to smile when you wake up.” And Golani Staff Sgt. Ya’acov Hillel says: “A day on which you do something good for others will be good for you.”
Let these soldiers and their comrades who loved life and died protecting it have the last words.