The man I love is a complete stranger, 2023
Installation
Bezalel mfa thesis solo exhibition
Exhibition text
by a stranger
A tall shadow, slightly bent over, its face expressionless, glances; disappearing and returning, always in the small hours of night. The dog barks and the eyes open. The heart follows suit, opening its own eye. The fear deepens and transforms into something else. There is something almost a familiar about this creature, this man on the verge – who neither enters nor leaves, carrying with him wisdom and death and terror and great beauty, always self-sufficient. Again, tall, slightly bent over, breathing quietly with a delicate crackle at the end. You never get out of bed to greet him, you still haven’t risen, lying on your side, legs tucked in (it’s a dry, cold winter and you’re wearing black pants and a green shirt). Lamed falls silent, like you, gazing at this liminal being, and the whole house sleeps – the house itself is asleep. The windows don’t rattle, the fridge has stopped humming. The chairs and table are in their place in the kitchen – and it’s only the three of you: a liminal being, a dog and a woman. Outside, an occasional distant car is heard (and maybe footsteps, or someone shuffling, or a bat clinging to a nipple). He asks for something, a sentence starts to form, it’s been forming for years, and maybe you’re closer to understanding, always getting closer; and understanding will bind you, you know.
