Yonat
Nitzan-Green, You Are Here, Installation, 2013
Graphite
powder, plastic glue, emulsion, floor padding foam
Including
a performative painting with choreographer and dancer Gabriel Galvez http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YhKuJDZkbUY&feature=youtu.be
Once
upon a time, in the summer of 1986, a terrible collision occurred between a
minibus and a truck; ten young lives had ended abruptly. Teenagers came
back from a summer camp. My fifteen years old brother was among them.
The
road fascinated me from a young age. Where I grew up, in kibbutz Heftzi-bah,
there were no roads, only paths. The kibbutz owned a few vehicles and if you
wanted to go somewhere you would borrow a car. Most of the time we just lived
in one place. My mother’s family lived on another kibbutz. When she got married
she moved to my father’s kibbutz. On holidays, my grandmother used to come and
take me with her back to her kibbutz – Ashdot Yaakov. Since she didn’t drive we traveled by bus or hitched-hike. For me it was always an exciting adventure.
I
remember other times when we went down to the kibbutz’s gate and set on a
bench, just looking at the cars passing by. There was a curiosity to see if any
of these cars will turn in and come to the kibbutz.
Today
most kibbutzim are going through a process of privatization, people own cars
and roads are being built in the kibbutz, as it grows.
My
interest in roads has re-emerged following the loss of my brother’s life.
I
see road as a place of life and death. In a political context, roads are being
built in the middle of Palestinian neighborhoods as part of the Israeli
occupation; they increase fragmentation of these communities.
I
have been looking closely at a Palestinian town which got destroyed in 1948.
This town is called Samakh; it was 10 minute drive from kibbutz Ashdot Yaakov,
yet I first heard about it only in 2008, through reading not history but
fiction. Today instead of Samakh there is a car park and a large junction. For more details about Samakh follow the link: http://www.palestineremembered.com/Tiberias/Samakh/index.html
You
Are Here
(written both in Arabic and Hebrew on the wall) opens a space to mourn both the
personal and the public sorrows at the loss of life. I construct my work on my maternal
subjectivity, in particular, the bringing together of the persona and the
political.