Decades of work and several dozen exhibitions in Israel and across the world are behind David Reeb. He was born in Rehovot in 1952, studied at the Bezalel Academy of Arts and Design in Jerusalem. His recent artistic work seems to be divided into two categories. On one side are still lifes, the landscapes of the place where he lives, as well as abstract images, while the other shows Israeli occupation of Palestine and the war that Israel is conducting against Palestinians, in the context of which Reeb uses art for political activism.
You have decades of works of art behind you and several dozens exhibits in Israel and around the world. Your work seems to be divided in two sets of paintings: still lives, landscapes of where you live, as well as abstract paintings on the one hand; on the other, much of the work is dedicated to recording through different means the Israeli occupation of Palestine and more recently the war Israel is waging against Palestinians, using art for political activism. Is this assessment correct? If so, are you seeking a complementary in your styles?
That is correct. I am interested in different kinds of painting and art in general, such as representation, painting from observation and memory, working from photographs, abstraction using projection and freehand painting. Half of my work has been abstraction. I have been fortunate enough to work at a time when any art that is interesting is considered legitimate. On the one hand, I like to deal with different kinds of painting and art. On the other hand, I want to address local issues in my work, especially not to ignore the Israeli occupation which I consider the most important issue here in Israel/Palestine. The reality of the occupation and apartheid cannot be ignored. Only complete equality of rights for all inhabitants in Israel/Palestine would be an acceptable situation.
Whatever the variety in technique or style of a painting, the common traits – foremost applying paint to a surface- are more important than the differences. There is also always a story to a painting, even an abstract painting contains a story, and there is always more than one way to look at a painting.
You have produced dozens of videos of the occupation, they do not seem to have any aesthetic aim, they are unsophisticated recording of events. What is your intention in depicting the occupation and the war? Do you feel a responsibility to engage with these issues in your work
Since 2005, I have been participating in and making video recordings of joint Palestinian-Israeli demonstrations against the apartheid wall and the occupation in general. Some of these videos have been used as news pieces or in legal proceedings, although today every activist can take reasonably high quality photos and video recordings using their phones. I think it is important to show where I stand and record things as they happen. If I live here I should address the way things are here. Not doing so makes me complicit in the dispossession of the Palestinians. In addition, the events I film are interesting in the way they illustrate power relations between the occupied and the occupier. My videos also show the constant flow of new images and situations. They are as much “art” as are my paintings. Often I exhibit them together with my paintings: the videos provide context and an additional dimension, while they are also of interest as stand-alone pieces.
How has the decades long conflict between Israelis and Palestinians influenced Israeli artists? Are there artists who are ignoring it altogether? Are there artists that are critically depicting the Palestinian armed resistance? Are the majority of Israeli Jewish artists more inclined to oppose the occupation of Palestine, supporting the rights of Palestinians, than other groups within Israeli society?
Most Israeli artists do not devote a significant part of their work to this conflict because they want to deal with more general human issues, or maybe they do not want their work to become too controversial and get them into trouble. I cannot think of anyone dealing in a meaningful way with Palestinian armed resistance apart from the photographer Miki Kratsman some years ago. But then there may likely be others, but I am not aware of their work. I believe I do more in this respect than most other Israeli artists. However, Israeli artists living and working abroad, e.g. in Germany or the United Kingdom may find it easier to address these issues in more significant ways. Most Israeli Jewish artists are definitely far more inclined to oppose the occupation and support Palestinian rights than most other groups within Israeli society, though this is not necessarily reflected in their work.
What opportunities and challenges have you experienced as an artist in Israel, and how have they shaped your work? Among the challenges, can you tell us about censorship of your drawing entitled „Jerusalem“ at the Ramat Gan Museum of Israeli Art depicting an orthodox Jew praying at the Western Wall in Jerusalem, on either side of him written in Hebrew: „Jerusalem of Gold“ and „Jerusalem of Shit“? Have there been other examples of censorship?
There is indeed a good deal of censorship in Israel, but there is also a high level of freedom of expression, especially for Jewish artists, though this excludes Palestinians in the occupied territories. My work has been suppressed or censored by Israelis institutions on several occasions. A few examples of this include: In 1983, at the Tel Aviv Museum of Art, the exhibit’s catalogue was cancelled because in a newspaper interview I said that with this exhibition my intention was to make an homage to Palestinian artists. In 2001, the director of Tel Aviv Museum of Art removed paintings from an exhibition during its installation because he claimed they insulted Prime Minister Ariel Sharon. The paintings showed underwater scenes with the text ”Arik eats children”. In 2021, my painting “Jerusalem” (1997) as removed from the exhibition, marking the reopening of the beautifully renovated Ramat Gan Museum of Israeli Art, by order of Carmel Shama-Hacohen, the Mayor of Ramat Gan. He claimed the painting was racist and implied it was anti-semitic. I was pleased that most of the other artists participating in the show took down their work in protest and solidarity, after which the museum was closed for a long time. Palestinian artists working here are in a more difficult position. Just a couple of weeks ago, an exhibition of works by the Palestinian artist Sophie Abu-Shakra that was to be show at the Holon Institute of Technology was cancelled with no explanation.
Are Palestinians, whether citizens of Israel or from Palestine, aware of your work? Do you think the arts can contribute to bridging the divide between Palestinians and Israelis? Can you tell us about your collaboration with artists from the other side of the conflict?
I have been working here over forty years, many Palestinians, especially artists, are aware of my work. In 1982 in Tel Aviv, Moshe Gershoni and I first collaborated with Palestinian artists citizens of Israel -Assad Azi and Abd Abdi- in a small show, reacting to the war in Lebanon. It was in 1984 that I first met with Palestinian artists -Sliman Mansour, Vera Tamari, Karim Dabah and Tayseer Barakat- from the territories occupied in 1967. We exhibited together with many other artists on various occasions throughout the 1980s, 90s and early 2000s, both in Israel-Tel Aviv/Palestine-Ramallah and abroad, e.g. Germany and the United States. Initially, it was exciting and hopeful. I hoped our collaboration was a precursor of a new culture of fruitful cooperation moving towards a democratic reality centered not on nationalism or religion, but on our common humanity. But nothing seemed to change as a result of our cooperative work, and in the end I was concerned it might be perceived as a form of normalisation of the occupation.
Is there a difference of how your art is received in Israel and internationally? Who are your main buyers?
Most of my audience is in Israel as are most of my buyers. This may be partially because I address local issues a lot. Perhaps some people abroad tend to see my work reductively as either “Israeli” or “anti-Zionist”. Over the years, there have been all kinds of buyers. Haaretz, a major opposition newspaper, has purchased many of my paintings for its collection. Buyers mostly prefer those works with apparently no political content, though some do purchase pieces that are clearly politicized.
Your most recent bright red colored paintings seem to express horror at the bloodshed in Gaza. Aside of horror, as an Israeli do you feel any guilt for what the Israeli leadership is doing to purportedly protect your security?
What the Israeli leadership is doing it is not to protect my security, but is an expansionist strategy. I do feel some responsibility because I am an Israel citizen and pay taxes. I have always spoken out against Israel’s policies towards the Palestinians. Certainly the scale of state violence, ethnic cleansing and perhaps genocide in Gaza as well as the ethnic cleansing happening in the West Bank today are all on a bigger scale than anything I can remember. But I would not say I feel guilty. I do however feel shocked and disgusted.
This past Friday, I met a man from a small community in Masafer Yatta in the West Bank. He was arrested when Israeli raiders from a nearby illegal settlement arrived at his house, assaulted his wife and small children. The police arrived and arrested him rather than the attackers. During his two week incarceration at the Israeli run Ofer prison near Ramallah, he was beaten, humiliated and suffered from overcrowding, cold and hunger. These are every day stories there. So I would also say that I feel ashamed, as a Jew and as an Israeli citizen whose taxes pay for this.
Finally, have your Jewish roots had any influence on your work over the decades?
I have always been an atheist but have always felt nonetheless a Jew. The antisemites after all don’t care what I believe. I have always felt that we have a particular responsibility to be true above all to common human values. Think of what was done a generation or two ago to the Jews by the Nazis and their associates, and of the many hundreds of years of marginalization and persecution of a powerless minority. First of all we have a responsibility not to do to others what was done to us.
Part of what our history bequeathed to us was the gift of irony: A people that views itself as the God chosen people, yet has been marginalized and persecuted during much of its history, especially in Eastern Europe. I may be drawing on this chasm in my work. And, because traditionally the Jewish culture is more literary than visual, representation of human faces is forbidden, perhaps I give writing more of a place in my compositions than I might have were I not a Jew.