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At the tip of every photograph lies the materiality, the labor, the dead bird, the masculine body, the boyish body; And similarly there are the two brothers, the twins, one brother holding the other, a hug or a first grasping in front of the world; And when he spoke, I suddenly thought of a child, who must recreate a scene over and over again; The methods improves but the tongue is repeating the old saying “this is me and my brother”, pointing the truth, does things with words; or in Biton’s words “Dogan won life itself. The meticulous execution (each extra-fine brushstroke adding an important detail), the resulting life-like renditions and the consistent format (monochromatic black on white; identical one-size ceramic plates) adhere to the ethos of scientific study.Susan’s ability to focus is well matched by her possession of a steady hand.Then, in 2005, ‘sick with shingles, I walked into a shop that was running ceramic painting classes and it was immediately obvious that it was something I had to do’. Having worked with human hair in the past and now with donated pigeon, natural, undyed feathers, Kate Mcc Gwire creates visually striking art.

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He spoke about dead birds, I remembered birds interested him back then as well, in Bezalel. See, those are birds that people don’t usually put inside their freezer, long winged, magnificent, fragile. He told me about the freezer, the cooler where a dead bird is each time carried into the club he photographs in, waiting for the right, crucial moment.

I was immediately sorry I hadn’t thought of it myself, that I hadn’t stolen him from life, into my story.

Yuval would probably say “Israeli goth” and he would be right and I would be wrong, for they are all migrating birds passing through Israel, dying here with all their glory.

He doesn’t kill them, it’s important to say, Yuval is the most non creepy person I’ve met and still, I was amazed by the way he creates beauty from this death, present it, displaying it beside the bodies of young men who carry them as carrying their own death.

For spectators, an interactive experience awaits: birds, caught in the moment, watch us, ready to strike or to fly away; clusters of twisted vines and treacherous spikes draw us inside.