Kibbutz born and bred artist and archivist Yuval Danieli is not only a prolific creator of thought provoking art but also an ardent guardian both through his art and archival work of remembrance to what was, what has become and deeply questioning the future, of kibbutz.

The tall, larger than life sixty-something kibbutznik with piercing blue eyes and a mop of hair fit for a teen, is a walking talking almanac of information with regard the kibbutz movement, individual kibbutzim and the colorful and not so colorful characters that founded and developed very special communities whilst helping to build a state of their own.  Danieli's knowledge about the artists, their creations and the struggle they went through to have the culture of art recognized as an important component in the new societies of old, is truly mind boggling.

Even a short conversation with Danieli is sufficient for the listener to be exposed to his deep feelings both for Kibbutz Hamapil in the Hefer Valley where he grew up, and the Hashomer Hatzair movement he grew into – and has basically never left although may not wear a blue shirt with a white lace threaded through the neck these days.

Artist, archivist, political activist, writer and much more make up the creative curator of arts at the Yad Yaari Hashomer Hatzair Institute for Research and Documentation in Givat Haviva whose exhibition ROADS OF REMEMBRANCE recently opened at the Ein Harod Museum of Art.

Participating in an open day for artists and archivists, and those who have naturally created a bridge between the two, proved to be a fascinating experience for this writer – neither an artist, although a dabbler in the past, nor archivist other than the family photo albums, but a member of a kibbutz for forty years.

Danieli's works are exhibited in three large halls, an alcove and an alcove off an alcove where a poster breathing strong socialist messages of yore hangs on the wall.  A simple metal bookcase full of books by the likes of A. D. Gordon on shelves nearby and a small wooden writing desk/table, open book sitting in the middle – as if the reader has just popped off to a committee meeting and will be back soon.

 

 

An eighty-four year-old kibbutznik, life-long member of the Hashomer Hatzair kibbutz of Mishmar HaEmek across the Jezreel Valley to Ein Harod, rests up - tucked in the alcove under the poster depicting 3 strong forearms, one grasping a hammer, another a spanner and the third what looks like a wooden stave inside the clenched fists.  The lettering asks one to give a hand (support) to the renewal of the Histadrut (labor union).

Eitan Ben-Or, a ceramics artist of many years standing, is the gentleman sitting in the kibbutz corner of Danieli's making – breathing life in to a scene that would have been all too common when Ben-Or was a young lad, one of the first children born unto a pioneering community in pre-state Israel.

Yuval Danieli delves deep in to his heart and past with a plethora of paintings, sculptures and installations where the kibbutz cypress trees, watch and water towers, horseman in shrouds, dirty and battered work boots hanging from a nail as well as the tools used to toil the soil by the collective's agricultural worker – reappear again and again, as do the old time 'work is a virtue' posters urging folks forward to build and be built.

Danieli celebrates the success of those who truly believed in the ideology and breastfed their children on the milk and cream ideas the stalwart leaders of the socialist, Zionist, atheist and democratic Hashomer Hatzair movement educated them with;  their becoming the new generation of ardent believers, followers who eventually saw their own children become the collectives detractors.

The deep physical and emotional roots binding him to and belief in the ideals of his kibbutz community are all too apparent in Yuval Danieli's works, but also his bitter disappointment at what has been lost as the drastic changes leading up to privatization have taken over, pushing aside those kibbutz values he held so near and dear and still does, just that they are no longer embracing Kibbutz HaMapil.

A three-time kibbutz general secretary, Danieli left the secretarial post during his third term of office to show his dissatisfaction at the majority vote accepting drastic changes in his community, bringing about what is commonly known as 'hafrata' (privatization) but basically means 'to separate.'  Even though he found it spiritually crippling to see his community accept closure on the ways of the collective he had known all his life, Danieli was unable to physically separate himself from the community.  He still lives and creates his art from the heart at HaMapil.

In present times Danieli finds solace at the Yad Yaari Center for Research and Documentation dealing with the artifacts of the days when kibbutz was kibbutz, the movement a force to be reckoned with and his own community functioning on the ethos of 'everybody is equal,' far from the 'some are more equal than others' jokes of yore that it has become.

A large black and white canvas depicting the watchtower and silo of the kibbutz falling down, crushing small 2 roomed kibbutz homes, uprooting crops in the field, hammer and spanner aimlessly flying through space and a rooster that doesn't seem to have too much to crow about, really paint a dismal – if albeit true – picture of the end of the days when kibbutz was what we all were brought up to believe it was before becoming much like everywhere else in a rural setting.

Standing in front of another of the large photographic installations depicting the cypress lined path from the kibbutz to the community's cemetery tucked in on a small hill between avocado groves, Danieli explains that the path represents to him the connection between the community of today and those of the past who reached the end of the road – and their lifetime – and are buried in the earth they toiled, planted and reaped a harvest from.

Danieli speaks of eventually ending up himself at the end of that road, alongside the groves that he worked in as a young lad, and comments that to him there is no more dignified a place to eternally rest when the time comes.

"The road leading to the cemetery is a road of reflection on the living and the dead, a short distance indeed between the kibbutz community of today and those who dreamed a dream and whose final resting place is just one short kilometer away.

"The road represents belonging, continuity and connection to the land where the fields are at times green, at times yellow and sometimes, just tilled soil," he says, standing sideways on to the installation, looking very much part of the picture itself, the link between those whose ideals of the past he still shares and those of the present community members who have chosen a very different lifestyle track and taking Danieli unhappily along for the ride.

 

**The Yuval Danieli exhibition at the Museum of Art, Ein Harod runs until the end of April, 2009

 

Text & photos: Lydia Aisenberg

February 2009