{"id":1230,"date":"2016-05-03T14:48:01","date_gmt":"2016-05-03T11:48:01","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.maarav.org.il\/english\/?p=1230"},"modified":"2016-05-03T14:48:01","modified_gmt":"2016-05-03T11:48:01","slug":"castoff-mattress-an-urban-natural-disaster-moran-shoub","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/maarav.org.il\/english\/2016\/05\/03\/castoff-mattress-an-urban-natural-disaster-moran-shoub\/","title":{"rendered":"Castoff Mattress \u2013 An Urban Natural Disaster \/ Moran Shoub"},"content":{"rendered":"

On castoff mattresses in public space<\/strong><\/p>\n

An essay inspired by photographs<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Outside. Castoff. Mattress<\/strong><\/p>\n

I have never seen anyone discarding a mattress<\/strong> in the street. We never see the person who comes out of his house with a mattress and dumps it in the street. We also never see who picks them up. They are just there, until they are not. Leaning against a tree or a wall or simply lying there. Sometimes they slide off the sidewalk into the road. There is no room for them in the trash cans. No trash can can contain a mattress. Public space is their trash can until they are taken away<\/strong>. Sometimes we see sanitation workers pulling a mattress together and struggling to shove it into their truck.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>

Moran Shoub, Yehuda Halevi Street, Tel Aviv, August 2014. Leaning for the time being<\/p><\/div>\n

\"\"<\/a>

Moran Shoub, Hayarkon Street, Tel Aviv, April 2015. Sliding off the sidewalk<\/p><\/div>\n

The mattresses discarded in public space brutally and mercilessly signify the basic right to shelter. People and their personal belongings (refugees, the homeless, or people evicted from their homes) are thrown out into the street and abandoned in public space. Always present among the piled belongings is a mattress. A mattress is the modest personal space in our home on which each and every one of us lays down to gather strength<\/strong>. None of us, unless we are homeless, unless we are refugees, sleeps outside in the street. When an object is dumped in the street, when a person or an entire family is thrown out into the street, they have no shelter. Anyone who has never experienced the absence of a roof over their heads has probably never given any thought to the basic right of every human being to shelter.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>

Oren Ziv \/ ActiveStills, 25.12.2011, On the brutality of confiscating a mattress. Contract workers escorted by Israel Police Special Patrol Unit (YASAM) officers removing personal belongings from a house in Kfar Shalem in South Tel Aviv<\/p><\/div>\n

\"\"<\/a>

Anne Paq \/ ActiveStills, 30.08.2012. Of all the objects tossed into a pile he chose the mattress. Personal belongings of the Abu Alkian Bedouin tribe tossed into a pile after the IDF demolished dwellings to the east of Dar Salah near Bethlehem, a firing zone according to the IDF<\/p><\/div>\n

That is why this metaphor of exposure \u2013 a home without walls in public space \u2013 was the metaphor that inspired the Tents Protest in the summer of 2011[1]<\/a>.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>

Oren Ziv \/ ActiveStills, 14.11.2011. The contents of an apartment spread out by Dafni Leef on Rothschild Boulevard in Tel Aviv as a metaphor, about an hour before the official opening time of the event she announced on Facebook that spurred the Tents Protest<\/p><\/div>\n

This photograph, taken on July 14, 2011, documents the apartment Dafni Leef spread out on Rothschild Boulevard in Tel Aviv as a metaphor. Careful observation of the photograph reveals the metaphor of an apartment in public space \u2013 without walls, without a roof; everything is exposed to the open air[2]<\/a>.<\/p>\n

In public space our body is our shelter. But our shelter, namely our body, needs a shelter too. Therefore, we need a shelter comprising four walls; where I depart from public space and can lay my body down. Only there, between four walls, do we allow ourselves to release body and emotions, even let ourselves collapse, gather strength and go out into the world once again. Our home is the shelter we leave and to which we return. For us to achieve self-autonomy, to maintain a life of physical and conscious liberty and dignity, each and every one of us is entitled to a roof-shelter-home. And in this home, it is the mattress on which we lay our body down. Not tossed down, laid down.<\/p>\n

In stark contrast to the sheltering, containing, and protecting roof and walls, anything thrown out into the street \u2013 people and objects alike \u2013 does not contain and is not contained; it remains unprotected, abandoned, intentionally neglected, and consequently cast off and crushed.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>

Moran Shoub, Stairwell of a building in Jaffa, December 2012. The castoff mattress collapses too<\/p><\/div>\n

And in the city streets, in public, as well as in unrecognized settlements, castoff mattresses are a symbol of the urban natural disaster of living without shelter<\/strong>. What has this natural disaster to do with the insensitive moniker \u201cstreet dweller\u201d? The following is an excerpt from Adam Baruch<\/strong>\u2019s column Shishi<\/em> (Friday<\/em>) published on 11.01.2002:<\/p>\n

\u2018Euphemistic Language: \u201cStreet Dwellers\u201d<\/strong>. Until yesterday they were called homeless, but just recently official bodies (municipal, governmental) have started calling them \u201cstreet dwellers\u201d. Why? To disguise, to soften, to blur: as if Israeli society is divided lawfully, consciously, and as a method into housing project dwellers, private home dwellers, penthouse dwellers, and street dwellers. In other words, by means of the cynical \u201cstreet dwellers\u201d the street has become a natural component of the housing system in Israel.\u2019<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>

Abir Sultan \/ EPA, 13.06.2012. An Eritrean refugee Cast off onto the sidewalk in Levinsky Park, South Tel Aviv<\/p><\/div>\n

The man in Jeff Wall<\/strong>\u2019s photograph, Citizen<\/em>, has chosen to lie down and sleep on the grass[3]<\/a>. He is not cast off. The same applies to the couples in the photographs of Ernst Hess<\/strong> and Ralph Morse<\/strong> (which appeared in 1955 in The Family of Man<\/em> exhibition) who chose to sprawl on the grass. And when they choose to, they will get up and leave. Jeff Wall called his photograph Citizen<\/em>, not The Citizen<\/em>. A man sleeping on the grass in a public park. \u201cCitizen\u201d indicates a particular citizen and the idea of \u201ccitizen\u201d, including the civil right to sleep in a public area. The rights of the individual in public space and modes of conduct in the \u201cpublic domain\u201d are set forth in the law[4]<\/a>.
\nThe African refugee in the photograph by Abir Sultan is cast off in the sun, unconscious with exhaustion, long since sliding off the lawn onto the sidewalk. No shade shelters him either. It is him for himself.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>

Jeff Wall, Citizen, 1996. Out of choice. Staged photograph<\/p><\/div>\n

\"\"<\/a>

Ralph Morse, LIFE, Hyde Park, England, 1944. Out of choice<\/p><\/div>\n

\"\"<\/a>

Ernst Hess, Magnum, US, 1950. Out of choice<\/p><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

***
\nA House with a Mattress. A Photograph with a Mattress. A Mattress in the Street as a Metonymy for Homelessness<\/strong><\/p>\n

A sketch of the walls of a house indicates the shape of the mattress intended to occupy it. A room has four walls. The rectangle of the mattress in the rectangle of the photograph resembles the rectangle of the mattress in the rectangle of the room.
\nHouse, mattress, photograph \u2013 these are shapes formulated by culture to benefit a cultural practice. \u201cRectangle\u201d is a shape that cannot be found in nature. Man defines-derives it from the space around him. A rectangle, in contrast with a circle for example, defines what is top and what is bottom, what is right and what is left. A circle does not have a basis according to which a direction can be dictated. Culture dictates frames in order to act within and without them. The photographic frame determines frames for things, and from the esthetics of the frame emerges the ethic within it.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>

Niv Tishbi, An apartment on the day it is vacated, Jerusalem, August 2012. The mattress is illuminated like an altar<\/p><\/div>\n

\"\"<\/a>

Kobi Wolf, A young man building his house in the Jewish settlement of Havat Gilad, 16.02.2012. A sketch of the walls of a house indicates the shape of the mattress intended to occupy it<\/p><\/div>\n

See also Red House<\/strong>, the painting by Arie Aroch[5]<\/sup><\/sup><\/a>. On the red roof of the house viewed from above lies a figure. Hence the house looks like a mattress. Inscribed under the roof, without punctuation or question marks are the words: \u2018How are things at home how are the people how do they live\u2019. A sentence that presents an ironic contradiction to the castoff mattress outside. So how\u2019s life you ask? \u2018There is no plan. We live. Period.\u2019[6]<\/a> The light washing over the painting is the light of the sun at midday. A triangular strip of dark paint over the rectangle of the roof resembles a cast shadow attesting to the height of whatever it is under the rectangle of the roof, namely the walls of the house, not a mattress. Gideon Ofrat writes that the painting is a kind of postcard from Aroch expressing his yearning for Israel, and also alludes to his paintings of red mailboxes[7]<\/a>. A reading of the painting indicates that home is that very personal place, that place we yearn to return to, where we can finally rest. And at home, the place on which we will rest is the mattress.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>

Arie Aroch, Red House. 1960. Oil on canvas and gold leaf, 60x50 cm. A house that is a mattress<\/p><\/div>\n

\"\"<\/a>

Moran Shoub, Hamasger Street, Tel Aviv, August 2014. The rectangle of the mattress. The rectangle of the room. The rectangle of the frame<\/p><\/div>\n

\"\"<\/a>

Kobi Wolf, A young man building his house in the Jewish settlement of Havat Gilad, 16.02.2012. A sketch of the walls of a house indicates the shape of the mattress intended to occupy it<\/p><\/div>\n

\"\"<\/a>

Orly Feldheim, The parking lot on the corner of Hagra Street and Ayelet Hashahar Street, Neve Shaanan, South Tel Aviv, 08.10.2014. Vehicle and mattress. Children in South Tel Aviv riding on a mattress. Their mattress is like a raft. A raft is a mattress. A raft is the refuge of the person lost at sea. A raft is the refuge of the refugee, just as a mattress at home is the refuge of human beings<\/p><\/div>\n

\"\"<\/a>

Anne Paq \/ ActiveStills, 12.01.2012. There are no rectangles in nature. It is Man who defines or derives rectangles, mattresses, fields. Personal belongings (probably belonging to shepherds) tossed into a pile after the IDF demolished five livestock shelters in Khirbet Humza in the Jordan Valley. Fields are rectangular. Orchards. Farmland. Sports grounds. Sketches of houses are a collection of rectangles (rooms) that combine into a sketch of a home<\/p><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>

Zipa Kempinsky, Simtat Hashuk, Florentin, Tel Aviv, 03.11.2015. Street cats among various rectangles outside trash cans<\/p><\/div>\n

\"\"<\/a>

Dana Raz, Parking lot on Florentin Street, Tel Aviv, 16.09.2015. Street cats. Street dwellers. Equation under the aegis of culture<\/p><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>

Yehoshua Yosef, Ruins of the mythological building on 1 Fuenn Street, the old Central Bus Station in Tel Aviv, making way for a residential and commercial project, 05.08.2015. \u2018How are things at home how are the people how do they live\u2019<\/p><\/div>\n

***<\/p>\n

\u00a0In 2012, as part of the annual photojournalism exhibition, \u201cLocal Testimony\u201d, Moran Shoub curated the subject exhibition \u201cCastoffs\u201d. The exhibition text served as the basis for this essay.<\/em><\/p>\n


<\/p>\n
\n
\n

[1]<\/a> \u00a0 The metaphor of exposure \u2013 a home without walls in public space \u2013 which inspired the Tents Protest in the summer of 2011, predicted something of the individual\u2019s sacrifice of personal space. It predicted exposed privacy. Mattresses filled the boulevards and, in turn, people fell asleep on them.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

\n

[2]<\/a> \u00a0 The first story in the Hebrew collection of short stories by Raymond Carver, What We Talk About When We Talk About Love<\/em>, is about an anonymous man who arranges the contents of his home in his yard exactly as they were arranged inside it. He puts everything up for sale, and then sells it all at half price \u2013 as long as someone takes it, buys it, no matter for how much. As the first in a collection of short stories, the story symbolizes, among other things, the author\u2019s act of exposure in public space. However it is not a dramatic exposure, but rather laconic, surrendering, despairing.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

\n

[3]<\/a> \u00a0 Ariella Azoulay<\/strong>, A Civil State of Emergency, Artforum<\/em>, December 2011.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

\n

[4]<\/a> \u00a0 At one time, a group of homeless men used to gather on the lawn near the beach in Jaffa. There was a small dog with them, and they stayed there for most of the day. At the time I used to walk with my dog on the same lawn, and I would see them from a distance. One Saturday, the lawn filled with vacationers. Groups of people sat around eating, playing, relaxing. That group of homeless men was swallowed up among the vacationers for the glory of equality.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

\n

[5]<\/a> \u00a0 1960. Oil on canvas and gold leaf, 60×50 cm (the proportions of a mattress). On the back of the painting Arie Aroch wrote the words \u201cRed House\u201d, and hence its name<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

\n

[6]<\/a> \u00a0 From the film Life According to Agfa<\/em>, Assi Dayan, 1992<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

\n

[7]<\/a> \u00a0 Gideon Ofrat, Art is a Letter, in his blog Gideon Ofrat\u2019s Warehouse<\/em>: https:\/\/gideonofrat.wordpress.com\/2010\/12\/14\/%D7%90%D7%9E%D7%A0%D7%95%D7%AA-%D7%94%D7%99%D7%90-%D7%9E%D7%9B%D7%AA%D7%91\/<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

I have never seen anyone discarding a mattress in the street. We never see the person who comes out of his house with a mattress and dumps it in the street. We also never see who picks them up. They are just there, until they are not. <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":22,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[37],"tags":[],"yoast_head":"\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\t\n\t\n\t\n