photography

Photography and glass

Wes Bell’s photography and Hope Forstenzer’s sculptures are on display at the Zack Gallery until May 18. (photo by Sarah Dobbs)

The current exhibition at the Zack Gallery is actually two separate shows: Wes Bell’s series of black and white photographs, called Snag, which is part of the Capture Photography Festival, and Hope Forstenzer’s glass sculptures, called If Not Now, When?

The connection between the artists’ works is not immediately obvious.

“I was initially drawn to the idea of colour and black and white and the impact that would have on the visitors to the gallery,” curator Sarah Dobbs explained. “Both Wes Bell and Hope Forstenzer use everyday materials and imagery to explore complex emotional experiences, transforming the ordinary into something deeply symbolic. Their works consider ideas of vulnerability and change, whether through Bell’s weathered landscapes of loss or Forstenzer’s delicate glass forms that capture fleeting human feelings. Together, they create a dialogue about presence, inviting people to consider the fragility and urgency of being alive.”

Bell hasn’t always photographed in black and white. After he graduated from the Alberta College of Art in 1980, he worked as a fashion photographer, first in Milan, then in New York. “I was well known for my colours and my attention to details when I was in fashion,” he said. “I was published in many prestigious magazines, but I burned out after awhile. The commercial freelance roller-coaster hollowed me out.”

In 2008, the global financial crisis was the final straw. He fell into depression. “I felt that my life had too much colour,” he said. “I needed to simplify, but I didn’t know what my new direction should be.”

He went back to school. “I took classes in the history of photography and history of cinema, among others,” he said.

Bell returned to Alberta to say goodbye to his mother, who was dying of cancer. “As I drove back to the airport, my attention drifted to the roadside, to the flapping remnants of plastic bags snagged in barbed-wire fences running alongside the highway,” he recalled. “Mile after mile, the fences lining the ditches were embellished with forgotten shreds of plastic, whipped by the wind. They might’ve been blown off trucks or thrown away out of cars. Frayed, lacerated and punctured, they drew me in. There was melancholy there that resonated, like souls of the people we lost or wings of some fantastic creatures. I stopped the car and took photos.”

He uploaded the photos to his computer and converted them to black and white, to reflect his sadness. “Seven weeks later, Mom passed away. It is in remembrance of her that these images first came to life,” he said.

Bell returned to those ditches and fences. “I came there for three years, from 2015 to 2017, to photograph those bags fluttering in the wind. I photographed 68 different sites, always during the transitional season from winter to spring, when everything appeared dead, when no green vegetation, foliage or flowers distracted from the forms. Every time I took photos, I removed the bags from the barbed wire and put them in the closest garbage bins. I tried to take care of the environment.”

photo - "Snag - 11th Avenue NE, Medicine Hat, AB, Canada, 2015," a photograph by Wes Bell. — “Snag – 11th Avenue NE, Medicine Hat, AB, Canada, 2015,” a photograph by Wes Bell.

For Bell, these images symbolize his grief over the loss of both his parents. His father passed away just a few weeks before the show opened.

“This show for me is about loss and memory, about the universality of grief, not just for my parents but for everyone who dies. There is so much death in the world right now, so much oppression,” he said. “And mourning and funerals in many cultures around the world are often associated with black. That’s why I decided to go with the black and white approach. My original, coloured pictures don’t have the same impact.”

In contrast, Forstenzer’s sculptures are infused with colour. Only one sculpture is white – “Spine.” Every vertebra of that twisty glass spine is inscribed with a negative emotion: despair, trapped, brittle, inferior, inadequate, doomed. The little sculpture inspires profound sadness.

“It is about my sister’s spine,” said Forstenzer. “She has severe scoliosis. She has been grappling with many health issues for years, and this unnaturally curved spine is symbolic of her problems.”

Forstenzer’s road to glass artistry was somewhat convoluted.

“My background is in graphic design, photography and film. I’ve been writing stories since childhood, but I always wanted to have a visual aspect for my stories, too,” she said. “For years, I was the artistic director of a multimedia company in New York. We worked on short avant-garde plays: mine as well as ones written by others. We produced them around New York. It was an amazing job, very interesting and successful, but it didn’t pay the bills.”

For that, she worked as a graphic designer. She also taught graphic design, first in the United States – New York, Seattle, Baltimore – and, later, in Vancouver, after her wife accepted a job at BC Children’s Hospital in 2012 and the family moved here. Forstenzer taught at Emily Carr and Simon Fraser.

After years of working hard but being unable to make a living with art, Forstenzer was burned out. “There is no system to support artists in America,” she said. “We all need a day job to survive. Or a spouse with a paying job, if we are lucky. I’m one of the lucky ones.”

Forstenzer started looking for a new direction.

“I lived down the street from Urban Glass Studio in Brooklyn. I took a class from them and paid in kind with my graphic designer services. I was 30 years old and I fell in love with glass. I knew it was the medium for me, the way to express myself, to tell my stories. In theatre, in painting, in photography, the artist provides the focus, and his audience accepts it. But with glass, my story might be totally different from the one my viewers see. Everyone sees glass through their own life experience, supplies their own interpretation.”

At first, glass art was a hobby.

“I wanted more glass classes – there is so much to learn,” she said. “We moved to Seattle. I took more glass classes and always negotiated to pay with my designer skills for the studio time.”

photo - "Omen 2" by Hope Forstenzer — “Omen 2” by Hope Forstenzer. *(photo by Olga Livshin)*

After moving to Vancouver, glass became her full-time artistic practice, and she joined the Terminal City Glass Co-op.

“When Sarah [Dobbs] asked me if I would like to share the show with Wes Bell, I agreed. I thought it would be a nice contrast. Wes’s photos are all about grief and desolation. I find my place in between grief and optimism. The world is a mess right now, but I want to believe that we can pull through if we act now. That’s why I called my part of the show ‘If Not Now, When?’” said Forstenzer. The famous saying is attributed to first-century BCE sage Hillel the Elder.

Two sculptures of wings attract the attention of everyone who enters the gallery. Both are parts of Forstenzer’s series Dream of Flight. “I made 12 sets, all belonging to different winged creatures, for a show in 2021,” she said. “You know, every human religion, every system of spiritual belief, uses wings or winged creatures in some way.”

Another memorable work is “Mourners.” Four small glass figurines, abstract depictions of people in mourning, occupy a stand in the middle of the gallery. Their bright, intertwined, yellow-and-blue hues shine against the black and white of Bell’s photographs.

“I don’t think grief is always dark or colourless,” said Forstenzer. “When my mom died, I grieved, but I also remembered her beautiful heart and the colours she brought into my life. Death doesn’t remove the colours of our memories. I think it is a different aspect of grief, just as there are different ways to tell the same story.”

The two shows run until May 18.

Olga Livshin is a Vancouver freelance writer. She can be reached at [email protected].

Reminder of hope, resilience

Kindergarten children preparing matzah, 1925. (photo by Joseph Schweigh, KKL-JNF Photo Archive)

In uncertain times like these, as the war with Iran continues, attention often turns to the traditions and customs that have carried generations through both hardship and renewal. Against this backdrop, Keren Kayemeth LeIsrael–Jewish National Fund (KKL-JNF) has shared some rare images from its photo archive documenting Passover across the years. The images, dating from before the declaration of the state of Israel, reflect enduring elements of Jewish life, including tradition, education and communal practice.

photo - A festive parade of Jewish soldiers during Passover in Jerusalem, 1948 — A festive parade of Jewish soldiers during Passover in Jerusalem, 1948. *(photo by Rudolf Jonas, KKL-JNF Photo Archive, KKL-JNF Photo Archive)*

Among them are a photograph from the 1920s showing kindergarten children preparing matzah dough; documentation from a festive Passover parade for Israeli soldiers in 1948, the year of Israel’s independence; and families in Jerusalem’s Mea She’arim neighbourhood participating in the burning of chametz in 1983, a year marked by the effects of the Lebanon War. Though decades apart, the scenes show how holiday practices supported community connection and hope during periods of instability.

photo - A wall newspaper produced in the 1950s and 1960s by Keren Kayemeth LeIsrael–Jewish National Fund’s education department, which was displayed in Jewish schools in England — A wall newspaper produced in the 1950s and 1960s by Keren Kayemeth LeIsrael–Jewish National Fund’s education department, which was displayed in Jewish schools in England. *(photo from KKL-JNF Banner collection displayed in the Central Zionist Archives in Jerusalem)*

The archival materials also include a wall newspaper produced in the 1950s and 1960s by KKL-JNF’s education department, which was displayed in Jewish schools in England. The poster places the Exodus from Egypt alongside images of agricultural work, tree planting and communal life in the land of Israel, illustrating how Passover was given renewed meaning in the Zionist era as a bridge between a biblical narrative and a modern vision of national renewal.

photo - The burning of chametz in the Mea She’arim neighbourhood in Jerusalem, 1983 — The burning of chametz in the Mea She’arim neighbourhood in Jerusalem, 1983. *(photo from KKL-JNF Photo Archive)*

“These photographs show how people held onto tradition, community and hope during uncertain periods,” noted Efrat Sinai, director of archives at KKL-JNF. “Viewed today, they highlight both historical experience and the sources of resilience that continue to shape Jewish life. Passover appears here as a living educational framework, a connection between Jewish communities in Israel and abroad, and a reflection of the strength of these communities across generations.”

KKL-JNF’s photo archive, which contains tens of thousands of historical photographs, serves as a living chronicle of life in the land of Israel and beyond. Together, these materials are a reminder that the story of Israel has never been defined by hardship alone, but also by its ability to hold onto hope, tradition and the promise of brighter days ahead.

– Courtesy Keren Kayemeth LeIsrael-Jewish National Fund

The power of photography

“Elaborate Pride Costume, Gay Pride,” Vancouver, 1996. (© Dina Goldstein)

One of the JCC Jewish Book Festival pre-festival events holds special meaning for the Jewish Independent. Photographer Dina Goldstein, whose artistry has focused on large-scale narrative tableaux the last many years, began her career with the JI’s predecessor, the Jewish Western Bulletin. She has compiled thousands of images from her work over the last three decades – as a photojournalist, editorial photographer, traveler and artist – for the recently published 400-page hard-cover The XXX Archive, which she will share with the community on Feb. 12, 7 p.m.

photo - Dina Goldstein talks about her new book, The Archive XXX, at a JCC Jewish Book Festival pre-festival event on Feb. 12 — Dina Goldstein talks about her new book, The Archive XXX, at a JCC Jewish Book Festival pre-festival event on Feb. 12. *(© Dina Goldstein)*

“I spent the pandemic going through containers of binders filled with negatives. Many of the images I remember snapping, but others that I found surprised me,” Goldstein told the Independent. “Editing the lot after 30 years of shooting was overwhelming at first. The process of archiving is slow and fastidious, often challenging my expeditious nature. I leaned in, not knowing how long or how many images I would be working with. Within two years, I scanned, photographed, numbered, printed and added over 3,000 images to a boxed and digital archive. The result left me relieved that my life’s work was now organized in a way that was documented and accessible.”

The word “herculean” is used in The Archive XXX to describe the task of creating the archive. Goldstein worked by year of creation, grouping the images by decades.

“I started with the early ’90s, when I first started my career and shot with black-and-white film,” she said. “Many of those images I had photographed for the Jewish Western Bulletin, my first job as an editorial shooter. I had special opportunities to meet and photograph many great people, like Elie Wiesel, Seth Rogen, Liz Taylor, Ruth Westheimer, Mordecai Richler, Jackie Mason, Bill Clinton.

“In the 2000s, I was working as a commercial and editorial photographer. I photographed mostly in colour and did some experimentation with processes. This is when I began crafting series of photographs. I spent two years at Hastings Racetrack and created Trackrecord. I expanded on my staged portraits with DAVID.

photo - Comedian Seth Rogen in his early days, 1997. Rogen is just one of many famous people that Dina Goldstein has photographed — Comedian Seth Rogen in his early days, 1997. Rogen is just one of many famous people that Dina Goldstein has photographed. (© Dina Goldstein)

“By 2006, digital photography was introduced as consumer cameras. Art directors were passing along assignments to less-qualified shooters and/or having the writer also take the pictures. I felt that I needed to pivot,” Goldstein said, adding that, by then, she was also a new mother and things in general were shifting.

“In 2007,” she said, “I began to focus on a new series inspired by my toddler daughter, who suddenly became obsessed with Disney princesses. This was a new way of creating narrative within my imagery. The series was a critical success, giving me the confidence to continue with this methodology.”

Although Goldstein mentions the making of her tableaux projects in The Archive XXX, she decided not to include the staged works within the compilation. “This is also because I continued enthusiastically photographing street, documentary and portraiture,” she said.

Over the 2010s, Goldstein was invited to show her work internationally at galleries, photo festivals and museums, and traveled extensively – to Europe, India, China, Korea, Taiwan, New Zealand and Australia. “So many of The Archive images come from my travels around the world,” she said.

The Archive XXX ends at the start of the pandemic, in the early 2020s. Of course, she has continued to create. Last fall, she presented a new staged photography series: Mistresspieces. Each of the 10 works features a famous female portrait from history placed in a modern-day challenge. For example, the goddess of Sandro Botticelli’s “The Birth of Venus” floats alongside a beach piled with the life jackets of those who have fled to European shores and Salvador Dalí’s “Galatea at the Moment of Creation” has Galatea surrounded by Amazon packages and melting icebergs in Goldstein’s reimagining.

Mistresspieces is Goldstein’s eighth tableaux series, including Fallen Princesses.

“The idea for Fallen Princesses came to me intuitively, when I realized the way that Disney was influencing my daughter,” she explained. “I decided to select well-known female fairytale characters and parachute them into modernity. I gave them all relatable challenges that play out within a familiar location. The methodology, production-based, was novel, as I no longer just depended on myself and my camera. This format is more collaborative and filmic, with lighting as an intricate skill. Thankfully, the project was successful online, in the media and in education. So, I discovered that I could still create critical work, with specific messaging amplifying my voice in the form of visual social commentary…. Now, in light of AI and the quick accessibility of image-making, I am looking to the future, making some tough decisions.”

Goldstein recognized the power of images at a young age.

“As a child, I would go through my grandmother’s photographs for hours at a time,” she said. “The postcard-like black-and-white photos of her, as a young woman in Romania, were not only beautiful but a window into her life. I would stare at an image and take it all in, her outfit, her shoes, the people she was with, the buildings behind her. Within these images, I discovered people and places throughout the decades of her life. As an adult, I have kept my camera beside me, just in case, it was a compulsion of sorts. I wanted to make pictures that would tell the story of my life as well. Perhaps not as the subject, but as the narrator. Today, mostly everyone suffers from the same need, with the readiness and ease of using a smartphone camera to document or to create an image.”

In The Archive XXX, there are photographs of such a diverse range of people, from presidents to Pride paraders, the famous and the often-overlooked. That Goldstein is comfortable around people, no matter who they are, is partly because of her father.

“My father was a very charismatic figure,” she said. “He was a product of the Second World War, uneducated but street smart. He was able to connect with people, all sorts of people. I understood that there is always something that you may have in common with another person. That’s a good starting point.”

Travel has also contributed to Goldstein’s ease around almost everyone in almost every situation.

“Traveling as a young person allowed me to open up to others, and trust that most folks are good people,” she explained. “My positive experiences as a young photographer were foundational for what the next three decades would bring, working with various diverse personalities. Becoming a mother made me more cautious with my assignments and travel. I certainly didn’t take as many chances or put myself in danger while my girls were little. I remember traveling in India and Colombia, both places I had to be extra aware.

photo - “Horse and Carriage,” Romania, 2006 — “Horse and Carriage,” Romania, 2006. *(© Dina Goldstein)*

“In general, I find that society is complex and divided. This became super-evident during the pandemic, and recently after Oct. 7, 2023. I was able to photograph the anti-vaxxer gang, where bizarre people came out of the woodwork. The Free Palestine bunch includes some of these types, and also an element of proud antisemites. When they first rallied, in big crowds, holding up signs ‘From the River to the Sea’ down Commercial Drive, I photographed it, slightly shocked, slightly sickened. I decided then that I could not personally or professionally continue to be there as a witness to this open hatred.”

A lot changed for Goldstein after Oct. 7, she said. “Losing friends that were once close, making new friends (mostly Jewish), actively fighting against anti-Jewish/Israel sentiment in my East Van neighbourhood and within the Vancouver arts community. This leads to the next chapter of my career, where I will focus more on my Jewish/Israeli identity and Ashkenazi Jewish heritage.”

Goldstein has written a TV series called Grimm Lane, which is based on Fallen Princesses. She is creating a new book with her narrative series Storyography and is also working on the TV series The Tribe, which is based on three Jewish families living in Toronto.

For more about The Archive XXX, Goldstein’s tableaux series and other work, visit dinagoldstein.com. To attend her JCC Jewish Book Festival talk, register at jccgv.com/jewish-book-festival-events/feb-12. The event is free to attend.

Community milestones … October 2025

photo - Anita and Arnold Silber — Anita and Arnold Silber *(photo from Jewish Federation of Greater Vancouver)*

Last month, the Jewish Federation of Greater Vancouver received the generous gift of $500,000 from the Arnold and Anita Silber Family Foundation toward the postwar renovations and expansion of Beit Vancouver in Kiryat Shmona.

The Silber family are long-time supporters of Federation’s work in its partnership region of Etzba Hagalil. This recent gift will jumpstart the launch of the centre into the next era, advancing the upgrades the facility requires in its role as the central hub of growth and resilience for the youth and children of Kiryat Shmona. As part of the renovation, the new Silber Family Wing will provide spaces for small-to-medium-sized group programs and activities, helping meet the growing needs of the community as they return to the region and rebuild their lives.

Established in 1980, Beit Vancouver has long been a centre of learning, creativity and community. More than 1,000 children and youth participate in weekly programs, including the Youth City Council, Krembo Wings (an inclusive youth movement), the Studio Program (a social-emotional therapeutic initiative) and a music centre. Since the mid-1990s, Jewish Federation and donors from the Vancouver community have invested funds to strengthen Etzba Hagalil, with Beit Vancouver at the heart of this work – supporting education, social welfare and regional development to help youth grow, lead and shape their futures.

“I don’t come from a strong home at all … and my folks are always struggling. Beit Vancouver was the one place I could rely on after school and during vacations. My other option was to hang out for hours at the park,” shared Hodaya, who grew up in Kiryat Shmona. “My experiences at Beit Vancouver have made me connected to my community and city until today. Beit Vancouver changed my life.”

Throughout the Iron Swords war, Beit Vancouver stood empty, suffering damage from nearby rocket hits and neglect. Now, as families return to the region, the need to restore and renew this space is more urgent than ever.

“Beit Vancouver represents the heart of the community in Kiryat Shmona. Our family believes in the power of youth to lead and heal, and we are honoured to help create a space where they can thrive. This gift is our way of standing with them as they rebuild their lives and their city,” said Arnold Silber.

• • •

photo - “The Frigatebird and the Diamond Ring” by Liron Gertsman — “The Frigatebird and the Diamond Ring” by Liron Gertsman

Liron Gertsman’s “The Frigatebird and the Diamond Ring” has been awarded the Bird Photographer of the Year title, selected from more than 33,000 entries. His image also won Gold Award in the Birds in Flight category.

“I spent well over a year of planning to capture my dream of a bird in front of the total solar eclipse,” said Gertsman. “I enlisted the help of a boat to position myself near some islets off Mazatlán that were frequented by seabirds. As the moon uncovered the sun’s edge at the end of totality, I captured this image during the eclipse phase known as the ‘diamond ring’ – a moment that lasts mere seconds.”

Celebrating bird life from around the world, the Bird Photographer of the Year images comprise some of the most incredible bird photos in the world, while also raising funds for Bird Photographer of the Year’s partner charity, Birds on the Brink.

Check out the behind-the-scenes clip at birdpoty.com/2025-winners to see the moment that Gertsman took the photograph. To attend one of Gertsman’s workshops or tours, visit vancouverbirdingtours.com.

• • •

The Jewish Federation of Greater Vancouver welcomes several new community connectors – local leaders who foster engagement, connection and belonging.

Abbey Westbury is the community connector for the Okanagan. She has been a pillar of Jewish life in the region for more than a decade, serving as vice-president of the Okanagan Jewish Community Centre and as a board member of the Jewish Museum and Archives of British Columbia.

On Salt Spring Island and the Gulf Islands, Ayala Reznik has already begun her work, and Elvira Molochkovetski and Anabel Wind are on the Victoria team, in partnership with the Jewish Federation of Victoria and Vancouver Island (JFVVI).

In Squamish, Sara Evans will support local Jewish engagement, strengthen connections between individuals and organizations, and work closely with both Federation and grassroots partners.

In South Delta, Lizz Kelly has joined the team, bringing her experience in community engagement with the Chamber of Commerce to her new role.

In the Comox Valley, Jessica Benoualid’s work over the past year to create welcoming spaces for the Jewish community made her the perfect fit for this position.

To learn more or connect with a community connector near you, email [email protected].

A family of storytellers

Ben Shneiderman, a retired computer scientist who lives in Vancouver, is a member of an extraordinary family. Recently, he promoted his Uncle Chim’s photography exhibition at the Zack Gallery, as well as the new English translation of his father’s book about the Spanish Civil War (1937-1939).

photo - Ben Shneiderman — Ben Shneiderman (photo from Ben Shneiderman)

It all started with Shneiderman’s grandfather, Benjamin Szymin, a respected publisher of Yiddish and Hebrew books in Warsaw before the Second World War. His daughter Halina (later Eileen) and son David (Chim) grew up surrounded by culture and tradition, inspired by the conversations of the best Polish-Jewish writers, artists and scientists.

“My mother Halina studied at the Warsaw university before she met my father,” Shneiderman said in an interview with the Independent. “After they married, in 1933, they moved to Paris.”

Shneiderman’s father, Samuel, was cut from the same cloth. He is considered one of the first Jewish war correspondents in Europe and America. In the 1930s, he published multiple articles and books in Polish and Yiddish on Jewish issues and social developments in Europe.

Ben Shneiderman remembered that his parents both decided early on that only his father would get a byline. “The times were different,” he said with a smile. “But they worked as a team. Mother did a lot of research. She typed the texts Father dictated, and then she edited and re-typed and fact-checked, until they were both satisfied. When Father went to Spain in 1937 to report on the Civil War, Mother went with him – she had her trusted typewriter with her.”

In 1938, Samuel Shneiderman compiled his reportages from Spain into the book War in Spain, which was published in Yiddish.

“The book included photographs taken by my uncle, Mother’s brother David, the legendary photographer Chim,” said Shneiderman. “Chim was also in Spain at the time, reporting on the war.”

In the past few years, the book has experienced an unexpected revival. “I had nothing to do with it, but I was glad,” said Shneiderman. “The book was published in Polish in 2021. Then, in 2023, it was translated into Spanish. In 2024, the English translation came from the Yiddish Book Centre.”

The English translation’s title is Journey Through the Spanish Civil War (translator Deborah A. Green), and Shneiderman gave a slide presentation on it and his family last month at the Jewish Community Centre of Greater Vancouver, under the aegis of the Cherie Smith JCC Jewish Book Festival. He explained that his parents left Europe just before the Second World War, but they couldn’t get his grandparents out of Poland. The older generation of his family did not survive the Holocaust.

As soon as his parents arrived in New York, they became immersed in the Yiddish writing and journalism milieu, and they both started publishing in English, as well. Together and separately, they covered the themes of postwar Europe, Israel, and Jewish life in the United States. Shneiderman’s father, in addition to writing articles for such publications as The National Jewish Monthly, the New York Times, Hadassah Magazine and The Reporter, also wrote non-fiction books, poetry and movie reviews. Plus, he edited several books by prominent Yiddish writers.

Growing up in a family steeped in writing and journalism, and with his uncle being a famous photographer, it might have been expected that Shneiderman would follow in their footsteps. His older sister did, in a way. “She moved to Israel in 1963 and taught English there,” he said. But he chose a different path.

“I was always interested in photography, like Chim,” he said. “I even won a photography contest in high school.” But, in college, he studied physics and math. “I had a cousin who was a physicist. He influenced me, but I was never much into physics. Mostly, I was entranced with math and with computers. I worked as a programmer for a couple physicists while still in college. I also took psychology classes, and philosophy. I wanted to know everything.”

He kept taking photos as a hobby, and that interest persists to this day. “I photographed many of my colleagues – pioneers of computer sciences. My pictures of them were published by a number of magazines,” he said. “Overall, I have over 40,000 photos. I also published them in my book Encounters with HCI Pioneers: A Personal History and Photo Journal, in 2019.”

HCI stands for human-computer interaction, which is Shneiderman’s primary field of research. “In 1973, I got the first PhD in computer sciences at my college,” he said.

In 1977, as part of an American delegation, he went to Russia on an exchange program. “We visited Moscow and Novosibirsk,” he said. “I met many interesting people there. One of them, a local computer scientist, Simon Berkovich, told me in confidence that he wanted to emigrate to the US and asked me if I could help. I said I would try. When he left Russia some time later, he had a stopover in Rome, like many other Soviet immigrants. Some of them went on to Israel, but Berkovich contacted me, and I wrote him a letter that I needed him for my work. He was able to come to the US with this letter. We even wrote a paper together. He is a professor now at George Washington University.”

Shneiderman recalls fondly his visit to a synagogue in Moscow: “Several of us went. I was concerned about our safety, but nothing bad happened. It was fun,” he said.

On the professional front, Shneiderman has always maintained that the current trend of developing artificial intelligence (AI) as autonomous machines wasn’t the way to go. In 1980 – 45 years ago – he even wrote a book on the subject, called Software Psychology: Human Factors in Computer and Information Systems.

“AI should be a tool, not a creator,” he said. “I don’t think a software should write books or paint pictures or drive cars autonomously. I think it should make people’s jobs easier, assist humans, not replace them. After all, a camera doesn’t take photos – I do. But my smart camera helps me manage the focus, the lighting and other parameters. Apple agrees with me. I worked for them as a consultant for five years.”

Shneiderman has been a firm proponent of this point of view for decades. He has expressed it in his publications and at industry conferences. In 1982, he co-founded what is now known as the Conference on Human Factors in Computing Systems. He also coined the term “direct manipulation,” which is the way we move objects on a screen with a mouse or a finger. He thinks humans should be an integral part of computer interactions, because only humans can make ethical decisions. No AI can ever know what it feels like to be a person. “There is no ‘I’ in AI,” he joked.

Shneiderman and his wife have been living in Vancouver since 2020, when they moved here from Bethesda, Md. “My daughter teaches anthropology at UBC,” he said. “We visited her often for years and even bought an apartment here. We liked it here. Then, COVID happened, while we were visiting, so we stayed in Vancouver. My wife was born in Canada and always had a Canadian passport, and I became a citizen last year.”

From Warsaw at the beginning of the 20th century to Vancouver 100 years later, this family continues to share stories.

“Grandfather told them in Yiddish,” Shneiderman said. “My uncle told them in pictures. My parents told their stories in words. And I told them in data, using computers as my medium. We are a family of storytellers.”

Olga Livshin is a Vancouver freelance writer. She can be reached at [email protected].

Chim’s photos at the Zack

A photograph by David Seymour (Chim) of children in Normandy, in 1947. Part of the exhibit Chim’s Photojournalism: From War to Hope, at the Zack Gallery until June 15. (photo from Ben Shneiderman)

The new show at the Zack Gallery, Chim’s Photojournalism: From War to Hope, features one of the most influential photographers of the 20th century – David Seymour (known as Chim). Chim was killed in 1956, a few days before his 45th birthday, while photographing the Suez Crisis in Egypt, but his legacy lives on even now, almost 70 years after his tragic death.

Gallery manager Sarah Dobbs told the Independent that Ben Shneiderman, Chim’s nephew and the manager of his estate, approached her about the show.

“I was immediately intrigued,” she said. “I met with him and asked if we could host the exhibition. I recognized its importance to the community at the JCC and also to the city of Vancouver. It is a rare opportunity to showcase such an amazing photojournalist. It made sense to host it during the Festival of Jewish Culture in May. I met with the art committee here, and they agreed.… This is the first time these works will be shown together in Canada.”

According to Dobbs, the exhibit was initiated by Cynthia Young, a curator at the New York International Centre of Photography, using vintage prints in their collection.

“Then, the Illinois Holocaust Museum & Education Centre produced the 51 modern prints for their showing,” Dobbs said. “Later, they were presented in Portland, Ore., at their Jewish museum and Holocaust education centre. I flew down to Portland to see the exhibition while it was there and chatted with the curators.”

To package and ship the display to Vancouver, Dobbs needed funds. “I applied for grants and approached individuals,” she said. “In addition to the shipping cost, we also had a special wall built inside the gallery. It will serve us for other exhibitions, moving forward.”

The show preview on April 22 was a joyful event, presided by Shneiderman, who shared with guests his intimate knowledge of his uncle’s work and life.

David Seymour was born in 1911 in Warsaw. His father, Benjamin Szymin, was a respected publisher of Yiddish and Hebrew books. As a young man, Seymour studied printing in Leipzig and, later, chemistry and science in Paris. He wanted to become a scientist. Meanwhile, photography fascinated him. He started taking photographs and selling them to support himself financially, and unexpectedly found a passion for humanitarian photojournalism. His first credited photographs appeared in the French magazine Regards in 1934.

Interested in social issues, Seymour photographed labourers and political rallies, famous actors and street scenes. At that time, he adopted his professional name, Chim, a simplification of his last name, Szymin.

Between 1936 and 1938, as a photojournalist, Chim documented the Spanish Civil War and other international political events. Twenty-five of his Spanish stories were published in Regards. Several of those photos are included in the Zack show. One of them, a close-up of a nursing mother looking up, obviously troubled (1936), is well known. Shneiderman said several history scholars studied this photograph and concluded that it was one of the inspirations of Picasso’s 1937 masterpiece, “Guernica.” Chim’s photo of Picasso in front of “Guernica” positions the painting’s detail of a woman looking up at the falling bombs, right behind the artist.

In 1939, Chim escaped the unfolding war in Europe for Mexico and, later, the United States. As a multilingual and Sorbonne-educated journalist, he served in the US military intelligence as a photo-interpreter. After the war, he resumed his photojournalism career.

In 1947, he and a group of his friends, like-minded photographers, founded Magnum Photos, a cooperative run by photographers. Chim served as Magnum president from 1954 until his death.

Chim’s postwar photographic stories are a blend of anguish and hope. Many of the images are on display at the Zack, divided into several distinct sections. The biggest section is “The Children of Europe.”

In 1948, Chim took a UNESCO assignment to report on the plight of the 11 million European children displaced by the war. He visited Italy, Greece, Hungary, Austria and other European countries. He photographed children who were maimed and orphaned, children playing beside ruins or working in print shops or begging in the streets.

“When LIFE magazine published a spread of those pictures,” Shneiderman said, “together with a list of organizations that accepted donations on behalf of those children, the pouring in of donations was unprecedented.”

Another series of photographs focused on postwar Germany. One of the most poignant ones in this series shows a section of a beach divided by barbed wire – the border between West and East Germany. A couple of boys lounge on the sand. A young woman in a swimming suit runs towards the water. In the foreground, a border guard in uniform stands grim and watchful with his guard dog and his rifle. Tension thrums through the image, underlined by questions and uncertainties.

On the other hand, Chim’s Israeli photographs of the early 1950s are infused with hope. A man lifts his baby to the sky in elation – the first baby born in his village. A wedding is celebrated under the chuppah, its makeshift poles including a gun and a pitchfork. An Independence Day parade rolls through Tel Aviv. A team of fishers proudly display their catch of the day to the photographer.

photo - A photograph by David Seymour (Chim) of a wedding in Israel, in 1952 — A photograph by David Seymour (Chim) of a wedding in Israel, in 1952. *(photo from Ben Shneiderman)*

In all his visual stories, Chim is always there with his subjects. They are his co-authors.

“It is that emotional connection that made many celebrities willing to pose for him,” said Shneiderman.

Chim photographed Ingrid Bergman and Audrey Hepburn, Sophia Loren and Picasso, and many others. These photographs are not included in the show, but, together with those that are included, they portray their creator as a man of courage, integrity and vision, one of the best photographic artists of the 20th century.

“Is photojournalism art?” Dobbs mused. “Yes, I think so. Photojournalists capture a moment, an interaction at a specific time. Contemporary art is a mirror of our times. It reflects the societal changes, cultural shifts and significant events that shape our world. It is what the best photojournalists, like Chim, do.”

Dobbs is certain that Chim’s work is still relevant.

“It continues to inspire and draw attention. It teaches photographers to get close to their subjects,” she said. “His images remind us of the past, of the destruction of war, but also of the humanity that transcends it, and of peoples’ resilience.”

Chim’s Photojournalism: From War to Hope is on display until June 15. It is sponsored by the Averbach Foundation, Esther Chetner, the Yosef Wosk Family Foundation and the Government of Canada, in partnership with Shneiderman, Magnum Photos, the International Centre of Photography in New York, the Jewish Community Centre of Greater Vancouver and the Jewish Federation of Greater Vancouver.

For more information and to see a selection of photos, visit davidseymour.com.

Olga Livshin is a Vancouver freelance writer. She can be reached at [email protected].

US long interested in Mideast

A photograph of Gen. Lewis Cass taken by Mathew Brady, circa 1860-65. In 1837, Cass dropped the anchor of the USS Constitution off Jaffa. (photo from US National Archives and Records Administration)

President Donald Trump’s unconventional proposal on Feb. 5 to annex the Gaza Strip isn’t the first time the United States has expressed territorial ambitions in the Middle East.

In 1837, Gen. Lewis Cass (1782-1866) dropped the anchor of the USS Constitution, “Old Ironsides,” off Jaffa. (Until British dynamite cleared the rock-strewn harbour in the 1920s, rowboats connected the port with the ships anchored offshore.) Together with several US Navy officers, Cass proceeded inland, planning to survey the uncharted Dead Sea – the lowest point on earth – but the poorly equipped mission was a failure. Ill from sunstroke and dehydration, the sailors barely managed to return to their vessel alive.

A decade later, Lieut. William Francis Lynch (1801-1865) of the US Navy led a better-provisioned 17-man expedition to explore the Jordan River and Dead Sea. Camels hauled the prefabricated boats specially manufactured of copper and galvanized iron overland from the Mediterranean Sea to Lake Kinneret (Sea of Galilee). Lynch then ventured down the Jordan River, which is a creek by most standards. In tandem, a party proceeded on land. The mission mapped the Jordan’s hitherto unknown 27 rapids and cascades. Though it is only 100 kilometres from the freshwater Lake Kinneret to the Dead Sea, the Jordan River’s winding course was 322 kilometres long. Lynch described the Jordan as unsuitable for navigation, calling it “more sinuous even than the Mississippi.”

photo - Lieut. William F. Lynch, circa 1861-62. In the mid 1800s, Lynch led a 17-man expedition to explore the Jordan River and Dead Sea — Lieut. William F. Lynch, circa 1861-62. In the mid 1800s, Lynch led a 17-man expedition to explore the Jordan River and Dead Sea. *(photo from Naval History and Heritage Command Photograph Collection, NH 367)*

While advancing “the cause of science,” Lynch was also at “the service of American commerce with the region.” He reported “an extensive plain, luxuriant in vegetation and presenting … a richness of alluvial soil, the produce of which, with proper agriculture, might nourish a vast population.”

While Congress shelved Lynch’s report recommending colonization, it helped spark the United States’s fascination with the Holy Land – and led to the establishment of American colonization projects in Jaffa and Jerusalem.

At Tel Aviv’s south end is a cluster of wooden clapboard buildings straight out of New England known as the American Colony. The story begins shortly after the American Civil War: on Aug. 11, 1866, 157 members of the Palestine Emigration Colony – including 48 children under the age of 12 – set sail from Jonesport, Me., for Jaffa on the newly built, three-masted vessel USS Nellie Chapin.

George Jones Adams (1811-1880), leader of the 35 New England families, hoped to develop the Land of Israel in preparation for the biblically prophesized return of the Jews. This would hasten the second coming of the Christian messiah. Adams had been a follower of the Mormon Church, but quit the religion following the assassination of Mormon founder Joseph Smith in 1844. Most of the congregants of the Church of the Messiah that Adams founded lived in Maine.

Departing the United States, Adams stated: “We believe the time has come for Israel to gather home from their long dispersion to the land of their fathers. We are going [to Jaffa] to become practical benefactors of the land and people, to take the lead in developing its great resources.”

Proto-Zionists, their purpose was not to missionize but to assist the Jewish people in returning to their ancestral land. However, though equipped with the latest agricultural tools, 22 pre-fab houses and religious fervour, the colonists’ mission was doomed. Arriving in Jaffa, they learned that Adams had not yet purchased the land on which they planned to settle. Instead, they pitched their tents on the beach near a cemetery where the victims of a recent cholera epidemic were buried. Within six months, 22 of the 157 settlers, including nine children, were dead.

Disease was not the settlers’ only problem. After finally buying the property for their neighbourhood, the first outside of Jaffa’s Ottoman ramparts – Tel Aviv would only be founded 43 years later, in 1909 – the pioneers quickly learned that farming in the arid Middle East was nothing like agriculture in rainy New England.

Facing starvation and soaring mortality, Adams sought solace in alcohol. Within two years after their arrival, all but two dozen or so members of the American Colony had returned to the New World. Their buildings were sold to newly arrived German evangelical Christians. Known as Templars, the Germans developed seven colonies across Palestine until being arrested by the British in 1939 as Nazi sympathizers. They were deported to Australia or sent back to the Third Reich in prisoner exchanges.

Among the Americans who remained was Rolla Floyd (1832-1911), a pioneer of Israel’s tourism business. In 1869, he opened the stagecoach service from Jaffa to Jerusalem on the newly paved road. The journey from the coast to the mountains took 14 hours: today’s high-speed train covers the same distance in 29 minutes, with a stop at Ben-Gurion Airport.

The Maine settlers were not forgotten, thanks to Reed Holmes: in 1942, the historian met an elderly woman who had been 13 when the Nellie Chapin dropped anchor. After four decades of research, Holmes published The ForeRunners. Around the same time, he organized a tour of Israel. Among the participants was Jean Carter, a licensed contractor from Massachusetts. Touring the former American Colony, she was aghast to learn that the decrepit, historic wooden houses were about to be torn down.

Raised in a Protestant church, Carter had a master’s degree in Jewish studies and was fluent in Hebrew. She persuaded the Israeli government to declare the former colony a heritage site, received a promise that any structure that could be preserved would be spared demolition, and got the Tel Aviv municipality to erect a plaque on the beach where the Maine colonists had landed.

Holmes and Carter fell in love and eventually married. In 2002, they purchased Wentworth House – one of the remaining American Colony buildings. With the help of specialists in 19th-century building preservation techniques from Maine, the couple spent two years restoring the ruin and removing later additions. Today restored as the Maine Friendship House, it houses a museum about Jaffa’s American Colony.

The Holmes, who live in Peace Valley, Me., were honoured in 2004 by the Maine Preservation Society – the first time the group recognized a project outside of New England.

Unrelated to Jaffa’s American Colony is a Jerusalem settlement of the same name. The eponymous luxury hotel where foreign journalists like to belly up to the bar was founded in 1881 as a commune – Israel’s first kibbutz – by members of a Protestant utopian society led by Horatio Spafford of Chicago (1828-1888), who penned the Evangelical hymn “It Is Well With My Soul.”

Spafford and his wife Anna (1842-1923), together with a group of 14 adults and five children, expected Jesus’s second coming imminently. While waiting, the members of the pietistic settlement of Yankees and Scandinavians served the Holy City’s many destitute by opening soup kitchens, hospitals, orphanages and other charitable ventures.

photos - Horatio Gates Spafford and Anna Spafford, circa 1873. In 1881, a Protestant utopian society led by Horatio Spafford founded the American Colony in Jerusalem — Horatio Gates Spafford and Anna Spafford, circa 1873. In 1881, a Protestant utopian society led by Horatio Spafford founded the American Colony in Jerusalem. *(photos from Manuscript Division, Library of Congress)*

Much of that charity was funded by the American Colony Photo Department, which became the community’s primary income. Many of those early images fall into the category of Orientalism, for which the West had a seemingly insatiable appetite. But part of that artistic achievement was due to fortuitous timing – the colony’s photographers began operating at a time when tourism to the Holy Land, especially from America and Europe, was beginning en masse.

Moreover, “with the advent of halftone printing in the 1880s, images were now becoming more accessible to the public via printed matter – books, magazines and newspapers – where they were now reproduced alongside text,” notes Tom Powers in his 2009 work Jerusalem’s American Colony and Its Photographic Legacy. (Before that, photographs could only be pasted into books by hand, as individual prints.)

A third factor was getting off to a good start, thanks to plain luck. The first sizeable project of the American Colony documentarians was the1898 state visit of Imperial Germany’s Kaiser Wilhelm II and Empress Augusta Victoria to the Holy Land.

Interested in seeing the American Colony Photo Department’s 22,000 historic photographs archived at the Library of Congress in Washington, DC? Visit loc.gov/pictures/collection/matpc/colony.html.

Gil Zohar is a writer and tour guide in Jerusalem.

Kiki more than a muse

History is fickle. Who becomes known as great in their field, whose work is displayed in museums or taught in schoolbooks? When there is a tangible product – a building, a painting, a book, whatever – the chances seem higher that you’ll be remembered. But what if you were mainly a muse to others, what if you could enthrall audiences with your voice but never recorded an album, if you created works of art that people liked and even bought, but you didn’t create in the popular style of the day, or you were a woman in a man’s world?

Most readers will not have heard of Kiki de Montparnasse, born Alice Prin in 1901, in Châtillon-sur-Seine, about 240 kilometres southeast of Paris, to an unwed mother who wasn’t much into mothering. But most would likely recognize her – she modeled for many an artist (Alexander Calder, Tsuguharu Foujita, Amedeo Modigliani, to name a few, as well as Maurice Mendjizky, with whom she fell in love for awhile). And, during her seven-year relationship with surrealist photographer Man Ray (who thought himself more of a painter), she posed for him many a time. In 2022, one of Ray’s most famous images of her, called “Le Violon d’Ingres,” sold for $12.4 million, the most expensive photograph ever sold at auction.

Yet, what of her own work, her talents, her accomplishments?

Cultural historian Mark Braude gives Kiki her overdue due with his latest book, Kiki Man Ray: Art, Love and Rivalry in 1920s Paris, which Braude will discuss with University of British Columbia professor emeritus of history Chris Friedrichs at the JCC Jewish Book Festival on Feb. 24, in an event called Art & History: Paris, Jews and Surrealism.

While Kiki wasn’t Jewish, so many of the artists she hung out with were, including, of course, Ray, who was born Emmanuel “Manny” Radnitzky. If she hadn’t lived among the who’s who of Dada and Surrealist art, perhaps she wouldn’t have been overshadowed, mostly forgotten. She was a commanding performer, she sold at least a few dozen paintings, wrote a memoir, appeared in films. By all accounts, a success. But, as “Queen of Montparnasse,” the early-1900s bohemian paradise in Paris, Kiki lived on the more wild side. Addiction would speed along her end – she died in 1953, only 51 years old. Another reason, perhaps, that her legacy was not as lasting.

As much as Braude’s account is about Kiki, it is about the time in which she lived and the people among whom she lived. Because, “as she experienced her era and channeled that experience into her art, Kiki shared drinks and cigarettes and ideas with many of the people who would shape how their century saw and thought and spoke: Modigliani, Stein, Picasso, Barnes, Matisse, Guggenheim, Calder, Duchamp, Breton, Cocteau, Flanner, Hemingway,” writes Braude. “And Man Ray, whose emergence as a modern artist must be understood as intimately linked to her own.”

While Kiki may not have left much physical evidence behind of her influence, it doesn’t mean she wasn’t influential. Living as she did, with whom she did, Braude writes: “Evolving in concert with them, watching them become who they were, challenging them and joking with them, working with them and through them, Kiki, too, played her role in shaping the cultural history of the past hundred years.”

Braude’s book is not only a fascinating read, but a reminder that none of us is insignificant. Even if our names are lost to history, we matter, we impact others and the world around us.

For the full book festival schedule, visit jccgv.com/jewish-book-festival.

A picture is worth a thousand words

In the first few years of 1900, my paternal grandparents – who had been married since 1886 – came to a decision. Economic life in Pinsk was too challenging and a drastic lifestyle change was required. So, in 1905, my grandfather, Yehiel Rubachka, age 34, journeyed alone from Pinsk (then under control of czarist Russia) to find work in Toronto. He knew Yiddish and a bit of Russian, having served in the Russian army for three years. He left behind my 27-year-old grandmother, Liba, and their four young children, Bessie (born in 1899), David (1902), Minnie (1903) and Herschel (1905), in Pinsk Karlin. Today, Karlin might be called a suburb of Pinsk.

On the one hand, Pinsk, with its sizeable and well-organized Jewish population (according to Yad Vashem, 21,819 or 77.3% of the city’s population, in 1896) offered the comfort of the familiar. On the other hand, living conditions were not good. By the time my grandfather left Pinsk, he and my grandmother had buried five children. There were also political and social issues, such as the fact that, in czarist Russia, Jews by and large lived under restrictions: forbidden to settle or acquire land outside the cities and towns, legally limited in attendance at secondary school and higher schools, virtually barred from legal professions, denied the right to vote for municipal councilors, and excluded from serving in the navy or the guards. Not to mention the repercussions of the failed 1905 Russian revolution, and the deaths and damage done by periodic Cossack attacks.

It is not clear what my grandfather’s relocation ultimately meant. For all intents and purposes, entering Canada was fairly easy; he did not need a passport or a visa to enter the country. But did he go to Toronto to test the waters so to speak – perhaps Canada would turn out to be no better than eastern Europe? Or was his plan, from the start, to make enough money to bring over the rest of the family? Or was it all left open-ended? On the birth certificate of one of my aunts, his occupation in Canada was listed as a (humble) rag collector.

In any case, around 1906, my grandparents decided a family portrait was needed. (Since my Uncle Herschel still looks like an infant, this photo was probably produced earlier than the 1910 date my father held to.) The problem, of course, was that the family was based in two distant locations, Toronto and Pinsk. So how was such a picture taken?

photo - Deborah Rubin Fields' grandfather and family — A family living on separate continents in the early 1900s has a photo with everyone in it. *(photo from Deborah Rubin Fields)*

According to Rita Margolin, a Yad Vashem historian, glass plate negatives were in use from the 1850s through the 1920s. They were popular with both amateur and professional photographers. In these years before courier and other delivery services, it would have been tricky to safely send glass negatives, they might have shattered in mailing. This suggests that some other method was used for putting together the two photos that became the family portrait.

Margolin further elaborated that a Pinsk photographer named Rendall might have made the composite image, as he was active in Pinsk in 1910. She pointed out, however, that photographers generally displayed their name on the photos they took, and my family’s photo is lacking a signature both on the front and the back side. (It is probably not a good idea with my unskilled hands to search for a signature by separating this very old photo from the cardboard to which it is pasted.) The lack of signature might mean that the photo I have is a copy and not the original.

Early 20th-century photo studios preferred photomontage – the production of images by physically cutting and joining combined photos – to create, for instance, tall-tale postcards. Tall-tale postcards are also known as “exaggerations.” Examples of these kinds of postcards include hilarious old farming photos in which farmers are seen pushing a wheelbarrow or a wagon containing giant harvested onions or enormous potatoes.

According to my father, the late Sidney (also known by his Yiddish name, Sheya) Rubin, z’l, my grandfather was added to the picture. One photographer with whom I consulted agreed that this is a likely scenario, as normally the head of the family would be prominently featured in the front, rather than the back, row of a photo.

In my family’s photograph, my grandmother is standing, facing the camera, straight on and straight-faced. My Aunt Bessie is sitting on a wooden chair while my Aunt Minnie is sitting on what might be a tree stump. My Uncle Dave is sitting on a suitcase. The baby, my Uncle Herschel, dressed in some sort of baby’s gown, sits atop a stack of cases. My grandfather, with a somewhat wistful look on his face, is cleverly placed behind a trunk, with only his upper torso visible.

My grandfather’s family left Pinsk and joined him in Canada in 1911. Sadly, all the relatives who remained in Pinsk were killed in the Shoah. My father’s family settled at Toronto’s 13 Leonard Ave. Between 1880 and 1928, 70,000 Jews left Russian-held territory for Canada.

Four more children were born in Toronto. These included two more aunts, one uncle and my father. Rachel or Rae was born in 1911, Birdie (often called by her Yiddish name Faigel) was born in 1913, Harvey (often called Mo) was born in 1915 and my father was born in 1917. My father’s family, however, did not remain in Toronto. In 1920, they moved to the United States, settling in Chicago. Along the way, the family name was changed to Rubin. My grandfather’s first name was anglicized to Joseph and my grandmother’s first name was anglicized to Elizabeth (or Lizzie). My grandfather became a naturalized American citizen in 1953. By that time, he had been living in the United States for more than 30 years but, still, he signed his naturalization papers in Yiddish.

As a child, I remember visiting the street where my father had lived as a young child. Perhaps surprisingly, the missionaries still had a close-by storefront. According to reports, missionaries had been “working” in the area since the time my grandfather was living in Toronto. Although they apparently succeeded in converting very few Jews, it did not stop them from trying for years on end.

Photoshop and other digital photo editing tools are a great help to today’s photographers. In the early 1900s, of course, computers and such programs did not exist. Yet, in the early 1900s, photographers on two continents managed to make a composite image nonetheless.

Deborah Rubin Fields is an Israel-based features writer. She is also the author of Take a Peek Inside: A Child’s Guide to Radiology Exams, published in English, Hebrew and Arabic.

Photos depict Oct. 7 trauma

Batia Holini’s photo of Israeli soldiers sleeping on the floor of a grocery store near Kfar Aza on Oct. 8 is one of the works in the exhibit Album Darom. (photo by Gil Zohar)

Album Darom: Israeli Photographers in Tribute to the People of the Western Negev, which opened recently for a six-month temporary installation at the Petach Tikva Museum of Art, is the first group artistic endeavour in Israel to confront the tragedy of Hamas’s Oct. 7, 2023, massacre and the subsequent Gaza War, now in its 10th month. The ambitious tripartite installation Album Darom (Hebrew for Southern Album) incorporates a Facebook diary; a printed book of photographs accompanied by essays (published by Yedioth Ahronoth); and the museum exhibit.

Initiated by Prof. Dana Arieli, dean of the faculty of design at the Holon Institute of Technology, together with chief curator Irena Gordon, the project showcases 150 photographs, art installations and texts documenting the story of the western Negev region before and after Oct. 7. The exhibit includes the perspectives of 107 photographers and artists. Some of the participants in the album are world-renowned, others are amateurs. Lavi Lipshitz, the youngest featured photographer, lost his life fighting in Gaza. His mother penned the text accompanying his images.

The works in the album represent different photographic practices: artistic, personal and some staged, the intense images are upsetting. As well they should be in confronting mass murder.

Before walking around a corner to see Lali Fruhelig’s gruesome 3-D installation suggesting a corpse sprawled on the floor of a living room, a sign cautions: “The exhibition contains some potentially disturbing contents. Viewer discretion is advised.”

Arieli, a history professor and a photographer who explores remembrance culture and cultural manifestations of trauma, began the Album Darom project shortly after the Gaza war broke out.

“When something’s traumatic, you have to work or do something,” she said.

Shocked by the murder of her friend Gideon Pauker from Kibbutz Nir Oz – who was killed just before his 80th birthday – she posted 100 daily historic and contemporary images of the Western Negev.

Initially, Arieli intended Album Darom to be exhibited at Kibbutz Yad Mordechai Museum just north of the Gaza Strip frontier. After the museum was damaged by rocket fire, this wasn’t feasible. Instead, she selected Petach Tikvah as the venue. She explained that the site – the first Yad Labanim memorial to fallen Israel Defence Forces soldiers from the War of Independence – is meant to be relevant to all Israelis. The museum offers free admission on Saturday, so observant Jews may visit on Shabbat.

Speaking to a group of journalists, Arieli compared Oct. 7 to the Nov. 4, 1995, assassination of then-prime minister Yitzhak Rabin. “Everyone is frozen in their memory of where they were,” she said.

Arieli and Gordon emphasized the intended cathartic nature of the exhibit. The two said the museum is a “safe space” and a “place for healing.” After experiencing the horrors of Oct. 7, Gordon found solace in this project, she added. “This is part of how we are coping with it all,” she said.

Miki Kratsman is one of the photographers whose depiction of his Oct. 7 nightmare is in the exhibit. Terrorists took his aunt Ophelia hostage from her home in Kibbutz Nir Oz. She was later released from Gaza in the November hostage exchange deal.

Kratsman’s photograph, “In Aunt Ophelia’s Neighbourhood,” captures a modest kibbutz home collapsing as it is immolated in a fireball.

“These are the kinds of things that need to be in a museum,” Arieli said of the photograph. “You’re looking at the destruction of Nir Oz.”

While vividly showing the devastation of the kibbutz, the burning home photograph is an enigma, and creates dialogue, she added.

But it is the human toll rather than the destroyed real estate that is most painful. Paradoxically, perhaps, Batia Holini’s peaceful photo of exhausted IDF soldiers sleeping on the floor of a grocery store near Kfar Aza on Oct. 8 hints at the savage warfare in which they have been engaged.

photo - “Funeral of Five Members of the Kutz Family who were Murdered in Kfar Aza,” a photo by Avishag Shaar-Yashuv — “Funeral of Five Members of the Kutz Family who were Murdered in Kfar Aza,” a photo by Avishag Shaar-Yashuv. *(photo by Gil Zohar)*

Avishag Shaar-Yashuv’s photograph, “Funeral of Five Members of the Kutz Family who were Murdered in Kfar Aza,” captures the searing emotion of the funeral of a family annihilated in the Hamas attack.

“I tried to focus and also wipe the tears at the same time,” Shaar-Yashuv said.

For this reviewer, the most symbolic part of the exhibit was a taxidermy display of a doe entitled “Bambi.” The exhibit references Felix Salten’s 1923 novel Bambi: A Life in the Woods and the 1942 animated movie produced by Walt Disney. Metaphorically, the hapless baby deer represents both the Six Million victims of the Holocaust and the 1,200 people murdered on Oct. 7.

Viewing Album Darom, one could conclude that the myth of the state of Israel protecting its citizens has been shattered. Arguably, Israelis today are no more secure than their ancestors were facing the Kishinev Pogrom of 1903, the Hebron Massacre of 1929 or the Farhud in Baghdad in 1941.

Gil Zohar is a writer and tour guide in Jerusalem.