Author’s note: This lively, communal atmosphere of people together in the Shuk is an accurate and authentic representation of how I felt as I walked through. I did my groceries there each week the year I lived in Jerusalem. These art books are an ode to the beautiful cultural ecosystem of Israel, and a prayer for our hostages so we can welcome them back home.
Click on an image to see a larger version.
The Shuk, 2023
Calligraphy pens, digital print, found and fine art papers, adhesive, thread.
The bustling outdoor-market,
שוק מחנה יהודה
Machane Yehuda,
is the heartbeat of Jerusalem.
The people of local and
surrounding communities
have gathered to trade at this
market for generations.
The Jerusalem community
has grown close around the
Shuk, the market, living side
by side, shopping, and selling
their wares: fresh produce,
pottery, clothes, flowers,
baked goods, candies, dairy,
dry goods, meats, kosher and
halal vendors, spices, tea,
fresh fruit juice, fish,
imported goods, wine, and
nuts, filling the market stalls
are far as the eye can see.
In my memories, the streets
would buzz with voices
through the market.
Customers and vendors of all
ages would greet each other
loudly with smiles and
familiarity. Old friends or
random encounters? Who
could say?
I want to share these
memories, to honor the
market. My piece considers
how the market is a platform
for people to witness one
another’s humanity—a
cultural hub where
communities with many
different belief systems share
and participate in life
every day.
Perhaps it is this communal
spirit that has sustained the
market through adversity,
war, and times of animosity.
However, I cannot help but
acknowledge that things have
changed now. I think about
Jerusalem, and how to me,
the air there always felt a
little more heavy than the air
in Tel Aviv. I think about
airstrikes, sirens, tension, and
the call to prayer, the Shema,
and the street cats.
The trust that was there is
different now, even as
restaurants and bars in the
Shuk open up again with
trepidation.
One day the vibrancy will
return. We are strong in the
face of violence; we will
band together, bring this
place back to its righteous
state of peace and
community.
I feel desperation to protect
my memories of the market,
my experiences, the routine
of doing my groceries there,
to encapsulate, archive, hold
onto this community, the
Shuk.
To conjure the vibrant spark
that is the Shuk is to carry the
flame into the future,
whatever the future may
bring.
Conspiracy theories,
propaganda, and corrupt
media narratives are like
cancers—they mutate the
public’s sense of justice as
they obscure the truth. In
joyful defiance my work
celebrates the Jewish
community, and keeps it alive
and remembered while we
grieve, mourn, and wait in
painful anticipation for what
happens next.
I want to protect a place I
remember where every single
person has value and lives
among one another. The
ecosystem thrives within a
vibrant community of
humans, each traveling along
their own paths, with their
own beliefs, led by what they
consider to be important in
life.
Values like family,
community, freedom, G-d,
living in Jerusalem, and
shopping in the market.
Passing one another in the
street, shoulder to
shoulder—there is no space
for precarity. Shoppers and
vendors greet one another
like old friends before
slipping back into the chaos,
voices calling over each
other, striving to be heard.
Collective survival relies on
coexistence, and besides, the
world is more beautiful that
way.