Tel Aviv has been dubbed “the city that never sleeps.” Granted, it is not quite up there in terms of size, tourism volumes, and sheer magnetism compared with New York, the definitive 24/7 metropolis, but it is certainly an exciting place to visit and live in, and well worth the marketing tag.
That urban buzz ante will be upped this week when the Tel Aviv-Jaffa City Museum officially opens for business with a festive three-day curtain-raiser (March 28-30).
It has been a while in coming, says Michal Baharav Uzrad. The museum director stresses that it is very much a work in progress. In fact, that is a core element of its credo.
“Our vision for this place is that it should tell the many stories of Tel Aviv-Jaffa,” she states. “The museum is the city’s storyteller, not in the sense of a single tale, but, rather, a story that comprises numerous voices, and many narratives that sometimes overlap and complement each other, but sometimes contradict each other.”
That sounds like just the dynamism and cultural clashes and confluences that have been enriching art, cultural and mundane life since time immemorial. You only have to take even the briefest of looks at the seemingly inexhaustible fount of intriguing, joyous, and thrilling sights and sounds that constantly emanate from the manifold gifted artists in this small country, right across the ethnic baggage spectrum.
The director says the new institution embraces discord as part and parcel of our existential continuum.
“We aim to allow contradictory views to live together, side by side,” she notes, adding that it is not just about members of the public bonding with their own backyard. “The vision allows everyone to find their own private Tel Aviv-Jaffa, even if they no longer live in the city, after living here for many years, or, possibly, their grandfather was a laborer who worked on the construction of Bialik House,” she chuckles.
That comedic observation followed the mention of my family backdrop whereby my Russian-born grandfather, Baruch Smus, managed to keep the wolves at bay during the early years of his sojourn in pre-state Palestine, a century ago, by taking on all manner of menial jobs. And while my musician-cantor zeide was, in fact, not my biological antecedent – he was my father’s stepdad – he was the only grandfather I had, and that item in his long and winding storied CV always gave me a thrilling sense of attachment to the former home of Haim Nahman Bialik, the pioneer of modern Hebrew poetry, which stands a pebble’s throw away from the new museum.
That familial anecdote was in keeping with the nub of the municipal venture. It is, Baharav Uzrad explains, very much about leveraging everyday tales of ordinary folk, and not just the institutional blockbuster stuff that tends to make the headlines and serves to titillate and evoke rushes of allegiance to the flag. And that despite the partners in making it all happen.
“The museum is the joint initiative of the Tel Aviv Foundation and Municipality of Tel Aviv-Jaffa,” the director reveals.
The family of Zevulun Tomer is also heavily involved. “Zevulun Tomer lived in Tel Aviv and was a leading industrialist. Towards the end of his life he contacted the municipality and told them about his dream of establishing a city museum in Tel Aviv.”
Sadly, Tomer died in 2022 and so did not live to see his dream take on full corporeal form, but his descendants have remained on board throughout.
Plenty to do and plenty to see
SO, WHAT can we expect to see when the ribbon is ceremoniously cut this week?
“The Tel Aviv collection is very special,” says Baharav Uzrad. “It is a digital collection which is not recognized by the Ministry of Culture as a museum collection. I hope that will happen at some stage.”
The house spread is anything but an academic, scientifically corroborated, reasoned account of events across the city’s history. “It is a collection of experiences, remembrances, and testimonies of people who once lived in Tel Aviv, and those living here today.”
That suggests a fundamentally fluid state of affairs, and one that stands to produce multifarious eclectic fruits as time unwinds.
It also means that the museum’s offerings are in a constant state of flux, and that returning visitors – in person or online – will have new material to peruse.
The rapid turnover of events in this part of the world continues to throw up new individual stories, not always of a healthy, positive ilk.
“Since the war broke out we have five documentary projects running, which relate to how the city has changed while the war has been going on,” Baharav Uzrad notes. “We also work with artists. It can be photographers, documentarists or sound artists.” That spans a range of disciplines. “We collate stories in four formats – text, video, audio, and visual creations. We have projects with illustrators.”
All and sundry are welcome to put in their shekel’s worth. “There is, of course, the online platform, which is an open platform. The museum is, in effect, a listening museum which constantly takes in new stories. That is the creative engine behind the museum.”
There is a third tributary to the presentation flow, possibly the most exciting of all. “People can also experience what the museum has to offer in the city, by using a function we call Shitutim [Roaming],” the director continues. “You can be in a particular neighborhood, say Shapira, open the [online] map and see all the stories that relate to Shapira – a story that someone wrote the day before or a story from 20 years ago.”
Witnessing the in-house narrative, close-up, also has its advantages. “The collection at the museum is curated and organized,” Baharav Uzrad points out, somewhat superfluously. “There are around 10 stations. We have, for example, intercom stations, like apartment building intercoms where you can listen to audio stories. There is an interactive map table where you can, say, choose your favorite street in the city, or the street where we got lost for the first time.” The entertaining edifying subtext awaits. “You might then discover, connected to the same street, a story by a homeless person or a tale by a start-up entrepreneur who opened his business there.”
It seems to be a go-with-the-flow venture which, no doubt, will bond Tel Aviv residents – past and present alike – more strongly with their hometown, while enlightening others about some of the dynamics behind the present-day metropolis.
Nevertheless, there is the more establishment-leaning content in there, too.
“If that is the micro-history, there is also the macro-history – the major events in the city’s past and the key characters,” the director stresses.
However, here, too, the museum placed a tender hand on the programmatic tiller. “We didn’t want a fixed, frozen exhibition which, once you’ve seen it, is no longer interesting. The permanent – not entirely permanent – exhibition is based on the experience of discovery.
“We present a view of the city based on four main themes, which are pairs that reflect the spirit of the city – international and national, sacred and secular, material and spirit, and connected and detached.
“We decided, after doing our research, to go for a thematic rather than a chronological line. We didn’t just go for something like diversity. We decided on things that relate to the city, such as what is sacred in the city. Let’s not forget that the 66 families that founded Ahuzat Bayit [Homestead, the forerunner of the nascent city] were what we would today describe as traditional if not actually observant.”
With all of that multifaceted picture in mind, the inaugural temporary exhibition covers a plethora of subject matter across 13 disciplinary fields, including ceramics, fashion, choreography, music and sculptures. A public appeal for the 2025 exhibition is due to be issued next month.
There is clearly plenty to see, listen to, do, and learn at the latest addition to Tel Aviv-Jaffa’s rich cultural offerings.
For more information: https://bit.ly/3vhVdTb