Following my childhood in the kibbutz I pin down symbols of my past and identity- brutalistic concrete buildings and architecture... Read More
Following my childhood in the kibbutz I pin down symbols of my past and identity- brutalistic concrete buildings and architecture against the backdrop of the deset of the Negev in southern Israel. Hibiscus plants are everywhere, we peel off the petals until we are left with a sticky little piece we place on the end of our noses. This is not a happy memoery as all those of the time- colored by our immigration from London, the death of my mother and the Gulf war. Difficulties integrating my identity as an immigrant is a mental and emotinal work that continues to this day, some 30 years later.
I peer into years I dont remember much of, tracing down the beginning of my complicated relationship with the place I live in- Israel, a kibbutz, in the Gaza envelope settlements.