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Rebuild 3
At the age of three I broke my parents' phonograph, and they have not bought a new one since. They were left with dozens of useless records that contained the classics of good old Israeli music – a patriotic soundtrack engraved in black vinyl.

The “Rebuild 3” exhibition dissembles the concept of Israelism. The exhibits toy with the idea of Israeli patriotism and the artifacts that define it: “Keter” plastic chairs, burekas (Balkan-oriented filled pastry), vinyl records by the “Givatron”, the flag bearers of the independence day ceremony – all these are taken apart and reassembled in a manner that questions the Israeli DNA that devolved along the years. Ceremonies, foods and soundtracks that are revisited by the third generation that grew up in this place.

The central place of the exhibition is dedicated to the Burekas – the national secular, everyday, Israeli type of food. In every ceremony, be it a family “Shivaa” (mourning for the dead) or the graduation ceremony of a military flight course, the Burekas is served. In the display, the Burekas receives a place of honor and is placed on a podium, as if it were an historical statue. The “Keter” plastic chairs are placed over each other, in a higher-than-usual pile at the corner of the room, and form a strange looking plastic rising. They are put in a position which is in between their everyday use and sculpturing that challenges the law of gravity.The phonograph in the corner plays a broken record, composed of 3 different albums: the “Givatron”, “Hakol Over Habibi” and a variety of different military bands. It creates a new, reassembled noise of the patriotic Israeli soundtrack of the 60s and 70s. The TV displays the parade of the flag carriers in the eve of Independence day, cloned and re-processed.The flag carriers create a kaleidoscope of forms and colors, thus creating new shapes that break the usual patterns used every year.Next to the TV, placed on a small table, is a photo of my father holding a jar of olives. The olives were brought to him by Rasmiyah, the Palestinian cleaning lady of my parents. She brought him the olives from Bethlehem, he occupied them in a jar.