Jerusalem, lift your heavy heart.
Wednesday I had a reception for Corcoran.email@example.com which was a nine month conversation between students in Israel and students at Corcoran talking strictly through photos. This is the project that brought me to Israel in the first place and some of the people I met through it allowed me to travel around the country for two months after. I even stayed at my partners house. A good amount of time has passed since returning and a fair amount has changed . The last post which I still haven’t done-mostly due to not knowing how to approach it- was to take a picture of what I think Israel is like. It’s difficult for me to explain it to people let alone photograph it. Ella’s ending statement touched on a lot of things that I myself aligned with. In it she talked about our stay in Bat Ayin at our friends and her partners parent’s house. Bat Ayin is what’s considered an illegal settlement in the west bank, pass the green line.”The reality of life in Bat Ayin, while it may strive to be quiet, is far from it…the truthof the matter is that at the start of this project, my limited knowledge of Israel and her people came mainly from popular American Media. I started trying to interpret Shmaya’s images without realizing exactly how much I’d let CNN and Fox News influence my perception and opinions of this place and I ended up learning far more about myself than about Shmaya.”
I feel like as much as I read , the more I know through Haaretz Al jaazera and so on the less sure I am as to where I stand in terms of the conflict. I want so badly to separate my anger, when I read the news, from the people I know there. I’m not a religious person my mother can attest to me sleeping in church but here I was alone in the “Holy Land” crying whenever I heard the call to prayer. Jerusalem, lift your heavy heart I can feel it when I sleep.
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: somewhere in the sands of the desert.
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again; but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?