The gallery under the sea.

As a kibbutz child, I remember that they regularly took us to the "Attraction Water Park," which every kid from the Dead Sea area or Jerusalem and its surroundings was familiar with. I remember the way there: leaving from the yellow gate, passing by the corridor of bougainvillea bushes along the access road to the kibbutz, looking at the date palm groves lining Highway 90 and at the abandoned buildings at the entrance, which were the sign that we were just moments away from reaching our destination. 

As a kibbutz child, I remember that they regularly took us to the "Attraction Water Park," which every kid from the Dead Sea area or Jerusalem and its surroundings was familiar with. I remember the way there: leaving from the yellow gate, passing by the corridor of bougainvillea bushes along the access road to the kibbutz, looking at the date palm groves lining Highway 90 and at the abandoned buildings at the entrance, which were the sign that we were just moments away from reaching our destination. 

I was always intrigued by these abandoned buildings, which seem to have always been there, standing quietly and almost transparently, and the tension between them and the lively water park. I couldn't understand how a place so vibrant coexists  next to a place so "dead."

On the one hand, there is a vibrant water park full of families and children running around, with entertainers making the whole crowd dance and sing "Agadudu" in the water, the wave pools operating every hour, and people sprinting a short distance on the hot pavement to the beach to smear themselves in the mud of the Dead Sea and float in the water. On the other hand, rows upon rows of old yellow buildings, peeling and cracked, standing abandoned, arranged in an almost fixed pattern with dry, yellow bushes blocking their entrances. These buildings hide stories and events that nearly no one will ever hear or know.

These abandoned buildings were once a Jordanian military base that, after being vacated, was occupied by an IDF's Nahal settlement that was civilianized and became the kibbutz 'Kalia'. Due to the harsh weather conditions in the area (in 1974), the Kalia (the kibbutz) was moved to its current location beneath the mountains, where I grew up. As the years passed, the second Palestinian intifada led to the closure and abandonment of the water park in 2002.

The "water park" has become a place for us (the locals) to go out on Saturdays and recall nostalgic times. Skaters found potential for skating in the empty pools, graffiti artists began creating their art, and production companies discovered a thriving location for filming in the abandoned site.

I was always intrigued by these abandoned buildings, which seem to have always been there, standing quietly and almost transparently, and the tension between them and the lively water park. I couldn't understand how a place so vibrant coexists  next to a place so "dead."

On the one hand, there is a vibrant water park full of families and children running around, with entertainers making the whole crowd dance and sing "Agadudu" in the water, the wave pools operating every hour, and people sprinting a short distance on the hot pavement to the beach to smear themselves in the mud of the Dead Sea and float in the water. On the other hand, rows upon rows of old yellow buildings, peeling and cracked, standing abandoned, arranged in an almost fixed pattern with dry, yellow bushes blocking their entrances. These buildings hide stories and events that nearly no one will ever hear or know.

These abandoned buildings were once a Jordanian military base that, after being vacated, was occupied by an IDF's Nahal settlement that was civilianized and became the kibbutz 'Kalia'. Due to the harsh weather conditions in the area (in 1974), the Kalia (the kibbutz) was moved to its current location beneath the mountains, where I grew up. As the years passed, the second Palestinian intifada led to the closure and abandonment of the water park in 2002.

The "water park" has become a place for us (the locals) to go out on Saturdays and recall nostalgic times. Skaters found potential for skating in the empty pools, graffiti artists began creating their art, and production companies discovered a thriving location for filming in the abandoned site.

In 2018, Itai Maor, the manager of Kalia Beach (at that time) and one of the members of the kibbutz, shared with me that he wanted to do something with the abandoned yellow buildings to raise awareness about the situation of the Dead Sea, which, due to the declining water level, had begun to suffer from a severe sinkhole problem. He asked me and a few other artists from the area if we wanted to paint and create on those buildings artistly.
Honestly, as much as the idea fascinated me, I understood that if we want to spark the discussion and attract visitors, we must do it on a much larger scale. I asked him to give me a few days to think and reply.

 After about a week, I returned with a small presentation that showcased places like Williamsburg in New York, the Berlin Wall, etc. I thought that if we wanted to raise awareness and attract people, we would need to bring in well-known artists from the country and around the world while also incorporating local individuals. 

The situation of the Dead Sea is a complex, tragic, cynical, and painful story - the State of Israel has taken care each year to promote it for the sake of the Seven Wonders of the World, while simultaneously selling it to wealthy individuals who have been exploiting it for years, drying it up, and making millions of shekels at the public's expense. In fact, a bizarre situation has arisen where many Israelis do not realize that they are actually vacationing in one of its evaporation pools when they go on vacation at the "Dead Sea" hotels. 

We decided to go for it, to bring these abandoned buildings back to life. We named the project Gallery Minus 430, in accordance with the sea level that year.
Itai was responsible for the administrative part and for recruiting the Tambour company (one of the leading colors for painting companies), which has been donating the paints to this project. I was in charge of the creative branding aspect and recruiting the artists.

We wanted artists to choose the theme they would engage with and bring their interpretation of the story of the Dead Sea from their perspective. In this way, each wall in the gallery will provide different perspectives on the critical message. In the brief we wrote, there were 3 general topics.

1. The Dead Sea and/or its salvation
2. The geographical-biological-botanical condition of the place (nature, animals, etc.)
3. The relationships between the populations living in the area: the residents of Jericho alongside the residents of the Dead Sea settlements, Muslims, Christians, and Jews who live side by side in peace (a unique mix that has become part of the regional landscape over the years).
   

Honestly, I didn't know if anyone would agree to come or want to participate in this crazy project, and I also didn't know the local community of street artists. So I went on a tour of the abandoned buildings, looking for works by artists who had already come to the area. I located them and started from there. We drafted a short email and sent it. 'Untay' and 'Brothers of Lights' were the first to take up the challenge. And from there, the project burst forth. I have met many outstanding people with an interesting perspective on life and art.

Since the project's beginning, about 39 artists from Israel, Greece, Uruguay, Mexico, Spain, Argentina, Portugal, Paraguay, the USA, and South Africa have participated. Everyone who participated in the project did so voluntarily and out of goodwill to help change the Dead Sea situation. The project received publicity in Israel and various countries worldwide, and the number of visitors to the gallery continues to grow. 

I never imagined that I would stand behind a project of this kind. But sometimes, diving blindly into a project and trusting the good in people you meet is worth everything.
‍
Come and see for yourself (:

‍

Honestly, I didn't know if anyone would agree to come or want to participate in this crazy project, and I also didn't know the local community of street artists. So I went on a tour of the abandoned buildings, looking for works by artists who had already come to the area. I located them and started from there. We drafted a short email and sent it. 'Untay' and 'Brothers of Lights' were the first to take up the challenge. And from there, the project burst forth. I have met many outstanding people with an interesting perspective on life and art.

Since the project's beginning, about 39 artists from Israel, Greece, Uruguay, Mexico, Spain, Argentina, Portugal, Paraguay, the USA, and South Africa have participated. Everyone who participated in the project did so voluntarily and out of goodwill to help change the Dead Sea situation. The project received publicity in Israel and various countries worldwide, and the number of visitors to the gallery continues to grow. 

I never imagined that I would stand behind a project of this kind. But sometimes, diving blindly into a project and trusting the good in people you meet is worth everything.
‍
Come and see for yourself (:

‍