Bustan A Place of Smell

 I arrived to Lod for the first time in my life two and a half months ago. It was not hot yet, it was even raining and of course everything that is charged today, was still hidden deeper below the surface. It was an invitation from Zumu - the museum on the way -  to make a two-month research diary in preparation for Zumo Lod. A dream residence where I travel every week, wander, record, photograph, draw, imagine.

Wandering, perhaps one of our most important tools to absorb and feel, has become a luxury, something that is packed in a bag when traveling abroad. But Corona era and all this crazy year, realizing there is no more traveling, it took 17 minutes from Tel Aviv to be in a new reality. 
This is my work, 'Orchard' - Bustan in hebrew/ in Persian it means a 'place of smell'. The installation is built of a wall and a lemon tree waiting to be transplanted.

At first, I mostly wandered. Sewing the city. I saw a lot of temporary and creative fences, splitting and blocking but behind every fence always popped lemon trees. Branches that do not refer to separations, that go beyond the border and herald the abundance and warmth within. The exhibit has a white wall, and behind it a lemon tree and a gilded space. The tree that would like to be planted in the ground - only marks territory, without the ability to grow roots.

 Most ironically, exactly on the day the exhibition was supposed to open - everything suddenly collapsed, and disturbances began.

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Last week I went to Lod again, this time to visit the tree, water and observe this strange reality of ours. Here are pictures, and a short film while peeling the layers, I thought to myself how strange it was that precisely when I built the work, before the streets of Lod went up in flames and hatred, I had less hope of coexistence in the city - and in general - than now, when I dismantle it. Sometimes a fire in the forest allows new plants, which did not receive sunlight due to the tall trees, to grow and prosper. And notice this - no one has been to the museum to water my tree for more than a month, and it has not been harmed even slightly. What do you know, sometimes even when darkness seems to have won, life is surprising. And I will continue to visit this lemon tree.