Once all Tidings will End
Once all Tidings will End* | Alexandra Ben Abba
Curator: Lee He Shulov
Text: Irit Luria
The exhibition in the Art Cube Artists’ Studios resulted from a project initiated by Alexandra Ben Abba and made in collaboration with a group of knitters and crocheters working for over 10 months. The installation comprises large soft textile made from knitted and crocheted chains stretched over the exhibition space of the Artist’s Wall, making it smaller and difficult to pass through.
The large heavy pieces are full of holes, made out of thick threads of tricot, cotton, and wool in different shades of dirty white, and red. The pieces making up the textile were hand-knitted or crocheted with a hook by people of different skill levels. The textile can not be used for anything – anything but testimony. They function as evidence for hundreds of hours of handwork while thinking about the abductees, refusing to consent and give up on the hostages and continue to live as if nothing happened and “business as usual.”
The work was made out of the need for support during difficult times.
Ben Abba began the activity on November 9, 2023, only about one month after 7.10, based on a feeling of impotence. Winter had begun with the entire country still in utter shock. In addition to her work at the Art cube Artists’ Studios, Alexandra also led art workshops in hotels for displaced families and children. But she could not succeed in overcoming the need to do something to advance the return of the hostages so she began coming to the families’ protest tent near the Knesset where she began to crochet and knit to mark out the length of passing time while we are still here awaiting their return. The crocheting and weaving marks the time while the hostages are suffering, like Penelope weaving to repel her suitors while awaiting Odysseus’s return.
Ben Abba called the work “until their return” and invited the public to join her. She set another goal which was to stretch the chain from here – Jerusalem – to there, to Gaza. As time passed, more people – mainly women – joined at the protest tent, and slowly a regular group was formed that became partners in the project.
Preparing for the exhibition, Ben Abba turned the crocheted chain into large pieces, filling the exhibition space at the Art Cube Artists’ Studios where they created a feeling of suffocation. Hundreds of hands made the knitted and crocheted chains – men, women, boys, girls, skilled and less skillful, using what was available – wool, tricot, and fabric. The textile is made of thick, heavy, white “ropes,” dirty white in many places since it was dragged on the road at protests which people sometimes stepped on. The ropes’ full weight is visible; they threaten to fall onto the floor and pull the connectors with them. They are not attempting to create something beautiful – nevertheless, something beautiful is formed here by the repetition and the materiality imbued with obvious love.
It is impossible not to feel that the installation represents what people feel living in Israel: heaviness, a choking sensation, and helplessness. The crocheted “rope” bears additional significance: it represents a connection between all those working in the group, the bond between people who feel mutual responsibility and refuse to abandon each other. The group of crocheting women found a support circle in the collaborative work and some consolation during this unbearable year.
The women have been sitting and crocheting and knitting during this terrible year, awaiting the return of the hostages, unwilling to give up on them. They roll the rope into a ball, and again unroll it. The time that was crocheted into the piece will never roll backwards. This is the nature of time. The act of knitting and crocheting becomes a support circle that continues and will continue as long as needed. The rope that seeks to be stretched to Gaza states: “My wellbeing is connected with a string/ to your wellbeing” as Zelda wrote in her poem, “My Welfare.”
* The exhibition title is taken from a free translation of the title of Dan Pagis’s poem Atidot [Futurities/ Predictions]
עֲתִידוֹת / דן פגיס
הַדָּג הַגָּדוֹל שֶׁהֵקִיא אֶת יוֹנָה לֹא הוֹסִיף עוֹד
לִבְלֹעַ מְאוּמָה.1
בְּאֵין נְבוּאָה בְּמֵעָיו, הֵחֵל לִגְוֹעַ.1
מֵת הַדָּג הַגָּדוֹל וְהַיָּם הֱקִיאוֹ אֶל הַיַּבָּשָׁה,1
שְׁלֹשׁ מֵאוֹת אַמָּה שֶׁל בָּשָׂר מְאֻכְזָב וְזָנוּחַ
בְּאוֹר אַחֲרִית הַיּוֹם.1
אָז נַעֲשָׂה עִמּּוֹ חֶסֶד, אוֹת לַבָּאוֹת בִּן-רֶגַע:1
חֲבוּרוֹת סַרְטָנִים
הִקִּיפוּהוּ, שָׂמְחוּ בּוֹ, טִהֲרוּהוּ עַד תֹּם.1
בְּקֵץ כָּל בְּשׂוֹרָה מִתְרוֹמֵם עַל הַחוֹף הַשּׁוֹמֵם הַשֶּלֶד,1
עַמּוּדִים, שְׁעָרִים, מְבוֹאוֹת, כּוּכֵי סֵתֶר,1
עִיר מִקְלָט לְרוּחַ בּוֹרֵחַ. הַכֹּל נִתְקַיֵּם.1