RUS
THE CALM BEFORE THE STORM / BEST ISRAELI VIDEO ART AT
:when:
february 18 – march 28, 2010
:how:
the arched hall, winzavod center for contemporary art, 1 bld. 6, 4 syromyatnichesky pereulok
israel it seems has been on the edge of storm for all sixty years of its existence: on the edge of war or peace; on the edge of change or a nervous breakdown. ‘the calm before the storm’ examines those moments of quiet expectation that precede periods of self-analysis. this examination is not happening in a vacuum – it is the extension of a process the israeli art world has been going through. at the same time as israeli society switched from the questions of the collective to problems of the individual — from the kibbutz to the city — artists generally moved in the opposite directions, to questions of national identity and religious, of the occurring storms and their effect on the people. while israeli painters in the 30’s drew zionistic pictures of pioneers at the galilee, and while performance artists in the 70’s drew attention to their own body, trying to separate it from a country that was just torn by wars, video artists in the last decade have to walk carefully between the different images of israel. on one hand there is the huge difference between the warzone portrayed in the world media and the sunny, vivid and creative streets of israel. on the other hand there is the ever existing potential of fire, of explosion. behind any israeli smile there seems to be a potential tear. but can we see it? like a car alarm that penetrates the street early on a saturday morning, and continues endlessly until the ear doesn’t hear it anymore, so is the buzz of danger, the ongoing whisper of the unavoidable storm to come, muffled into daily life, present and non-present at the same time.
while french photographer henri cartier bresson talked about capturing “the defining moment”, catching the very essence of the scene, the artists in ‘the calm before the storm’ are trying to take that moment and stretch it – to check what happens before it, see what happens after it. they are not trying to catch the moment of the kiss, nor the moment of explosion, but to understand the process leading to that scene and the way we are preparing ourselves to it.
video art, which has been growing becoming more and more popular in israel, allows the artist not to commit to the ever changing moment, but to look at it as part of a longer sequence. the storm is inseparable from the calm that precedes it and from the calm that would proceed it. this endless loop is the story of a state that lives in higher level of tension, that listens to news updates every 30 minutes, that is always curious, not to say suspicious, about its future. like the endless loop of watermelons in sigalit landau’s ‘deadsee’ video, where five hundred watermelons are connected together to form a six meter spiral raft in the saturated salt water of the dead sea, so is israel trapped in its own vicious cycle.
landau’s iconic video feature the artist floating locked inside the spiral layers, stuck in a trap she created with her own two hands. her naked body pointing to the area where the fruit is wounded, and their sweet flesh mixed with the salty water. the floating raft gradually unfurls, leaving the surface of the water nearly monochromatic blue, only to fill again and again with the spiral of watermelons. it is indeed an endless loop – the calm, the storm and the following silence are all part of life, and art, in israel.
other works in the show are capturing a similar moment. yael bartana captures ones of israel most intense quiet moments – the minute long siren heard all through the country during israel’s national memorial day for fallen soldiers. during the minute the siren sounds, every day time comes to a halt. the cars are stopping. people are stepping out and standing silently. the city transforms before our eyes, time is trembling.
nira pereg’s ‘shabbat 2008’ documents the closing down of the ultra-orthodox neighborhoods in and around jerusalem on the eve of saturday (sabbath). in most cases, public access to these neighborhoods is blocked by means of temporary barriers, which stay put for 24 hours – thus creating an artificial border between these areas and the rest of the city. once the barriers are erected, no cars are allowed into the neighborhoods and the day will be dedicated to prayers. in many ways pereg’s video pictures the storm before the calm, the hectic rush of the neighborhood’s residents to get organized for the holyday, but one should remember that the although the value of these barriers seems symbolic, their presence is a source of friction and conflict – not only they separate between what considered sacred and what is not, they also separate between secular jews and orthodox jews, hinting to one of israel’s biggest conflicts regarding the jewish character of the state.
erez israeli’s is picturing the impossible moment after. while referring to the christian image of the pieta, one cannot avoid the local meanings related to the death of soldiers, to sacrifice and to war. the artist's mother employs obsessive, pain-filled movements to pluck the feathers stuck with wax to her son's body. as if icarus was pulled out from the sea and put in his mother’s hands, the monotonous act of plucking the feathers seems to indicate that the mother has come to terms with the son's death, yet refuses to part with him. in order to stay close to him, she prepares to assimilate his body back into her own body, into her womb.
uri gershuni collects found images of cars after accidents. in a small, almost unnoticeable move he turns the images upside down. the sky becomes the ground, the ground becomes our over head shield, and the car, that until a second again was unusable, is standing again on its four wheels and is ready to go, to leave the disaster scene behind it.
in ‘earthquake in kamtschatka’ gal weinstein rebuilds the earthquake seismograph from cotton wool. then he takes a match and burn the still white line. the fire moves slowly and quietly, re-enacting the disaster, re-living the noise again and again. it is a silent storm, communicated to us only by its sign. can we experience it? can we picture it?
in ori gersht's ‘pomegranate’ what appears to be a formal still life, resembling a painting by baroque artist juan sanchez cotan (quince, cabbage, melon, and cucumber, 1602,) is suddenly revealed, in the shower of exploding fruit, as live action. in slow motion a bullet slices through a pomegranate (a near eastern food symbolic of bible, jewish law, and war) spraying blood-red seeds and flesh in the air. oddly enough the picture is still perfect. are we still watching a perfect still life moment? is it possible that we carry the silence with us through the explosion?
like a few other works in the show gersht’s video raises the question of control. tired of waiting for the storm to come we are often tempted to try and call it, try to control it, try to stir it up faster, to decide for it. but it is in the storm’s nature to arrive when least expected. what other choice do we have, but to be ready for it all the time?
