Three skulls: the one that does not speak, the one that does not hear, and the one that does not see. The years 1948, 2024, and 1967 are inscribed on their foreheads. They are adorned with wigs made from British maps of Mandatory Palestine, updated in Hebrew after the establishment of the State of Israel. Between them, a blazing fire rises toward the sky.
The word “Zerstört” (destroyed, in German) is inscribed into the concrete floor. Shira Wachsmann tries, in vain, to eliminate it. The words “ort” (place) and “stört” (disturbing) are still visible. The destroyed is still present.
Below Netai Halup's studio there is a scrapyard, an area of about 5000 m2 that functions as a stage for dozens of workers who slam, melt, grind, shred, and maneuver different kinds of metal. On his way to the studio, he constantly passes through this territory, through this stage of the workers, who have become characters for him. Every column features a visual mapping the artist made in response to the various scrapyard events . Every map is joined by a sound work by composer Sean Farage, using recordings of sounds emerging from this yard. Farage uses the drawn maps as a score to create...
"From a local perspective, 'A Good Neighbour' brought hope to an art scene wrapped in a dark curtain." Hou Rf reviews the 15th Istanbul Biennial, curated by artist duo Elmgreen & Dragset.
In Eyal Weizman’s new book, the reader joins the author as he hovers over contested territories in the Middle East, follows him as he traces the histories, ideologies, slippery borders, technologies, and narratives involved in the State-inflicted marginalization and displacement of the Bedouin inhabitants of the Negev desert, in Southern Israel. Rotem Rozental reviews “The Conflict Shoreline,” as well as Weizman’s methodology of forensic visual culture research.
