Exhibitions

"The age of anxiety," "the culture of fear," the "risk society" – all these terms confirm the centrality of fear in our times. The increasing use of the term "risk" highlights the contemporary tendency to treat a wide range of phenomena as threatening and dangerous. Art reacts to this climate on both the private and the collective levels, engaging with an array of threats connected to violence, political power, and more.

During the months of coronavirus lockdown, we were inundated with a stream of jokes, videos, and memes. WhatsApp, Facebook, and Instagram were filled with jokes hoping to put a smile on people's faces and dispel, if even for a short time, the depression and sense of crisis caused by the pandemic, with its accompanying social isolation and economic hardships. Many WhatsApp and Facebook groups were created by professionals from the health and care professions who sought to lighten their difficult routine and offer participants moments of laughter and solidarity.

In his work Black Milk, Belu-Simion Fainaru invites the viewer to contemplate a work that is densely detailed yet whose characteristics are minimal, emphasizing a universal dimension. The black, toxic machine oil, threatening and repelling, is held in white, delicate porcelain utensils with understated decorations. The table and chairs belong to the past, to the artist's parents' living room. This is a forgotten world – one in which we do not await a ghost meal, a meal that will never take place. The sense of absence and nothingness is a continuation of the installation Belongs Nowhere and to Another Time, exhibited at the 2019 Venice Biennale, where Fainaru was chosen to represent Romania.

The present period, when many of us are alone and confined to one room, is perhaps a time to contemplate depictions of "horror rooms" familiar from art history. Throughout this history we encounter images of empty, cold rooms conveying a sense of loneliness, insecurity, and fear. A special historical place is reserved for depictions of sealed rooms, lacking windows or doors, such as prison cells, graves, churches, theaters, reading rooms, or collection chambers. These spaces do not allow the occupant to gaze outside, illuminating only that which lies within.

The coronavirus crisis and its widespread effects have revealed the fragility of our existence in our most private spaces, as well as in the general social order. This is a period of fear and insecurity, yet also one of potential insight. It allows us to see through the cracks in the foundations of our existence and reexamine them, though the encounter may be distressful and shocking.

Our body works all the time, even at night, when we sleep: the heart beats and pumps blood to all parts of the body, the lungs fill with air and empty, and there are many other systems in the body that work nonstop so that we feel well. These actions produce heat, which is known as "body heat."
Panels painted in shades of red and blue hang along the wall. They were painted with a special paint sensitive to heat, which disappears in contact with the skin. Try touching the panels and see how your body heat affects the paint.

The works presented in these two exhibitions are the result of activities carried out over the past year by three artists of the "Space for Community Art." This program at the Haifa Museums encourages artistic practice that is attentive to the place and the local community, initiating processes in the city's neighborhoods, which reinforce art's social power and increase the public need for art. As part of this program, artists based in the greater Haifa area, selected by a professional committee, receive close curatorial support as well as conceptual and practical training for artistic action in the community. Community members participating in the project play a substantial part in the artistic process.