November and December … Where Art Thou Go?
January is already rolling up, yet where did November and December go? I took a peak at my blog to check it was still living, and yep, still breathing. Although, I couldn’t believe I had last written an account at the end of October. I thought I had taken life by the reigns, aware of every day, with a time frame in mind and an organised life schedule. Obviously not. The time flowed by, uncontrollably, and so much took place, so many developments and thoughts trickling down my mental drainpipe, yet nothing accounted for. As Effy said last night, we are merely passengers on earth, travelling life’s course; yet I wouldn’t mind driving the train. I have the photos, bills, receipts, plane tickets to Barcelona, Ikea receipts for my newly purchased furniture, bills for my newly rented apartment ... physical train stamps of my life’s journey through November and December. Although, somehow, I felt less inspired to write about it. I prefer not to weigh my blog down with daily drool and moans, but rather, to keep it sacred for things worth a mention, a platform for mental illustrations, lit by sparks of life that have truly inspired me.
Life on Paper
Yesterday I was truly inspired or, as I mean to say, inspired to pontificate on some truly saddening sights. My ol’ dears came to visit the Jewish land over the U.K. break for Christ’s birthday. For our first family outing, we went to the World Press Photo exhibition, located in Tel Aviv’s Dizengoff centre, to view the international World Press Photo contest winning shots. This collection represents news images from all corners of the world from the last year.
The exhibition was situated in the unexpected, less culturally tasteful, Dizengoff shopping mall, known as Tel Aviv’s ‘monstrosity’ by my dear father, and ‘a product of its time’ by myself. The city mall is awkwardly shaped and is a typical representation of 1960’s architectural visionary design, gone wrong and still standing. Inside, rows of shops are set in angled lines, creating a zigzag effect from top to bottom. My parents were slightly hesitant to enter the desolate mall, eerie from the emptiness and closed shop blinds for Shabbat, to a cultural, afternoon outing. Yet, to place a prestigious photo exhibition in the mall, rather an extravagant exhibition hall or museum, is rather apt and reflective of Israel’s personality. Vivid images of the news amongst Israelis are an everyday reality, and so it seemed fitting that such an exhibition was placed in the centre of where daily activity occurs, a bland shopping mall. We reached the exhibition, and were relieved by the site of human life clustered around the entrance. We were handed tickets and brochures for the sights on hand and entered.
The photos were set against florescent lightened white walls. The images spoke for themselves, the background a mere canvas to the snapshots of human life, accomplishment, tragedy and war. Many of the images included representation of survival and victimization of terrorism in America, England, India; war, political subordination and corruption across Africa and Eastern Europe; civil conflict in South America, mutilation, decapitation, natural catastrophe; alongside images of sports champions, world leaders and animal life.
A separated section included photos particular to Israel’s experiences. The site of the Lebanonese War echoed and revealed my own personal recollection of the fear and terror that went on during that time. I couldn’t help but realise Israel’s place in the world, the insignificance of its geography and that it is just one of the many other places in the world dictated by war. Life in the holy land can be somewhat claustrophobic, with news coverage exhausted by its own national tragedy. I often notice the population isn’t always exposed to the realities of other human suffering around the world. This exhibition brought attention to the fact that our suffering isn’t so exclusive or particular to our nation, that it is simply a common result of the thread of human existentialism.
On first glance, the exhibition of course gave much inspiration to onlookers, to grab a Kodak and snap away at life’s moments. The reality of these amazingly shot photos was quite horrific and disturbing. The aim of the exhibition was to allow for ‘free exchange of information’ and, I suppose, to increase acknowledgment of human tragedy, which was all done in good faith. Yet in retrospect, I was sickened by the thought that the world on display represented simple genocide and holocaust amongst the human race.
I can remember a photo of a Nigerian soldier (if I remember correctly) kicking the head, as if it was a football, of a civilian who helplessly knelled on the floor with a face of deep pain. This was an image of a moment of the past and probably one of now. This was real, this was life.
And what do we do, we sit and stare. We glare at these photos, we watch the news on televisions, witnessing continual presentations of such moments, and do nothing. Holocaust occurs across the world today and nothing is done. Even myself, a Jew, a product of the generation of the Holocaust, by a generation who vowed to never let it happen again, a product of a world of human tragedy, and I spent the afternoon witnessing this all over again. Holocaust is happening across the world, splattered across photos and displayed in fancy exhibition halls. We stand and stare, making oohhs and ahhhs. We are all so self-absorbed by our own histories and tragedies, that others are left to die at the hands of aggressors, murdered for being a Christian, mutilated for being a woman, subordinated for being poor, for having nothing. All western countries experienced, at some time, conflict in history and conclusively spent years changing their infrastructure to avoid all this. Do we not learn enough from suffering, to not allow it to happen again to other communities? Realistically, when it happens to our neighbours, we turn a blind eye, or even patronize the issue with exhibitions and celebrity charity cases. When will the change actually occur?
I do wonder, in particular, whether the Jewish people have a duty to confront the holocaust that occurs in the world, such as right now in Sudan, or previously in Bosnia. Yes, we are still living through our own war. But when will the lessons actually be learnt and action taken by those that know better? I guess by the time the world is burnt out, when our eyes finally close, and there is no power left to put an end to global self-mutilation.
Tickets to this exhbition weren't enough to remind me of this lesson learnt, hence this account was written. Here, I can hold onto these thoughts, slowing down the inevitable of time running away, allowing the train to be snatched by words.
Okey, so my inspiration got slightly carried away. Maybe I should reconsider seeking inspiration from my own daily grind, life and the weather.
Description for the World Press Photo winning picture above: The picture shows the emaciated fingers of a one-year-old child pressed against the lips of his mother at an emergency feeding clinic in Niger. A devastating swarm of locusts and the worst drought in decades left millions of people short of food in the African state. The picture was taken in Tahoua, northwestern Niger, on 1 August 2005.
Website: http://www.worldpressphoto.nl/
