Belu Simion Fainaru tells us about his challenge to the boycott of Israel at the Biennale

Ever since its inception, every contemporary artist’s dream has been to represent their country at the Venice Biennale. Not so for Israelis, at least not since 7 October. So much so that during the 2024 Biennale, Ruth Patir – despite having installed her works in the designated space – decided to close the pavilion’s doors, leaving a sign reading: ‘We will only open to the public once all the hostages have returned home and a ceasefire has been signed’. Since then, the hostages – whether alive or in coffins – have all returned to Israel, and a ceasefire is currently in place with Hamas, Hezbollah and the Islamic Republic of Iran. However, it seems the ‘ceasefire’ against Israeli artists has not yet ended: this is true both in the world of contemporary art and in that of literature, which has just excluded Eshkol Nevo from the ‘Libro Possibile’ Festival in Polignano. Yet, despite many doubts and concerns, when Belu Simion Fainaru was offered the chance to represent Israel at the Biennale, the artist – of Romanian origin – chose not to back down, even in the face of all the threats of boycott.

As he tells Il Foglio, now more than ever he has felt the need to represent not only his own country, but also his own identity on the major international stage that is the Biennale: “The aim of this event, eagerly awaited by artists from all over the world, is precisely to establish an intercultural dialogue. For this reason, despite all the difficulties I have encountered in recent months – including the war with Iran – and the boycott by many European artists and galleries, I am increasingly convinced that it was worth taking part. If only for the warm welcome I received from Iranian, Lebanese and Cuban artists and curators, whose countries have no diplomatic relations with Israel”. A further challenge for Belu was the new location of the Israeli pavilion – currently undergoing renovation – which is temporarily situated not in the Giardini but at the Arsenale, in a space carved out between the pavilions of Saudi Arabia, the United Arab Emirates and Turkey: almost as if the Biennale had anticipated the Abraham Accords. “After all, Venice has always been a bridge to the Middle East. The walls of the Arsenale bear witness to 500 years of history, including that of the first copy of the Talmud, printed right here in Venice between 1520 and 1523, when the Christian printer Daniel Bomberg obtained permission from Pope Leo X to print it. It was the first time that Jewish culture was transmitted through more than just the spoken word.

At the time, we did not yet have a homeland, but we finally had a book that could be passed down from generation to generation. For this reason, as a Jewish artist, I felt the need to reconstruct the five centuries of history linking the Serenissima with the Holy Land and to recreate what, for me – even before it was the Israeli pavilion – is a Jewish home. Complete with a table, a fridge – which also contains some soil from Jerusalem – and a mezuzah, made with my own hands. Because Jewish culture, starting with the Ten Commandments, is not based on visual representation, but on text and sound. That is why I have sought to create an interactive installation, so that the public can immerse themselves in it completely: both by sitting at the table to engage in discussions with other participants, and by listening to the sound of water, which reminds us how Venice is constantly criss-crossed and nourished by its canals. Just as the Israeli desert has flourished thanks to an irrigation system unique in the world, which has ensured agricultural development in many other parts of the Middle East. And today, suspended from the ceiling of the Arsenale, it creates a constantly shifting pattern on the pool of water on the pavilion floor, where the pool represents the Talmud, the trails left by the drops represent scripture, and the drops themselves represent the tears shed by the Jewish people over the past nearly three years, following the still-open wound of 7 October.”

Despite all the difficulties of this historic moment for Israel and its art, Belu looks to the future with optimism: “I see it in my day-to-day work at the University of Haifa, where I teach Jewish, Christian and Muslim students. And even more so in the Mediterranean Biennale – which he has curated since 2010 – a platform spread throughout Israel, across Jewish, Christian and Muslim villages, to give a voice to all the country’s communities and, above all, to promote ongoing collaboration between artists from different cultural, linguistic and political backgrounds who see art as a privileged space for enrichment and the practical implementation of the peace process. Precisely where politics, at least for now, is struggling to make headway.”