We’re happy and excited to announce a new phase of Mind the Heart:
Starting with this pilot event in Tel Aviv and continuing in the USA until August 2018,
we are inviting people we meet to actively partake in this project, put a heart out there
and promote mindfulness to the present, to our surroundings, to nature, to our neighbors.
Throughout this year, we will hand out thousands upon thousands of the little, red yarn hearts to people we meet.
Each will go and put this heart out there, in a spot that is significant to them for any reason.
Check out the Heart Community tab on our website to keep up with the ever growing archive of this spots of significance,
of these stories and moments, of these amazing people.
Our pilot event, in collaboration with Beit Tami and the Tel Aviv-Yafo Municipality,
took place on May 3rd and culminated in a physical exhibition opening on May 14th in Beit Tami.
You can see many more photos and texts here:
Put Your Heart Out There
incomplete. in complete. complete.
We continue saying our goodbyes here in Israel, this time to Tel Aviv
whose walls welcomed our first works, 8 years ago.
A different text was originally set for this piece, a poem about longing across the seas.
But once the separated yarn halves were up, that initial text just didn’t feel right.
So we left them there, dangling and incomplete, and went to do some soul-searching.
What was born is this – a piece about relationships, about belonging, and… about longing across the seas.
The text of this work reads: m-ma-mag-magi-magic
The building or breaking down of a word (adding or subtracting the next letter) is a conceptual act that originates from the Kabbalah and aims to strengthen or weaken a particular idea, to bring something into or out of existence.
You know those cursed corners, where businesses perpetually fail?
A seemingly perfectly situated spot on an otherwise bustling street,
where nothing succeeds and nothing lasts but boarded-up windows and crushed hopes.
One after another after another. Cafe, restaurant, shop, deli, cafe again.
Sometimes they last a year, sometimes even less.
It seems that no matter what they do and how they do it, the Curse prevails.
Each closure a broken dream and a devastated savings account.
People who were sure they would be the ones to break the cycle,
or who could care less about supposed “curses”.
We notice these spots, accept them as a wayward but intrinsic parts of the living-city-web.
Perhaps just blips, but perhaps serving some strategic purpose, unbeknownst to us,
within the urban venous system.
Either way, a little magic doesn’t hurt.
Dedicated to all who crave for starry skies and distant horizons.
“What is this nonsense? Draw something beautiful!”,
the old man shouted at us from his 2nd floor window across the street.
“I’ll erase it, just like I erased the previous nonsense that was here.”
Well, that explained the white coat of paint, expressively brushed on the wall.
“Draw a horse, a bird, something beautiful!”
I tried to de-nonsensify the work to the man in the window,
hoping to change his mind about erasing it,
hoping to grant our work at least a few days of life. He wouldn’t have any of it:
“Why don’t you draw a camel, something beautiful?”
In the meantime, an old homeless man stopped by with his overflowing shopping cart of found treasures.
“All these graffiti hooligans, defacing the city. It’s just ugly.”
While he and Maya began discussing street-art and vandalism,
my exchange with the man in the window continued:
“Draw a lion, a bird. Something I understand.” And there it was.
He hated it, really hated it, because he did not understand it.
I translated the text, explained in details the positivity of the message,
brought his attention to the relative fineness and delicateness of the work.
He heard, but I wasn’t sure he listened.
Same for the homeless man, who continued to decry the “ugly, self-promoting graffiti”
and long for “actual art” to be done on the streets.
As we got into the car to leave,
the man in the window retracted silently into the darkness behind him.
The homeless man, though, rummaged through his cart, pulled out a gold spray-paint can,
and with a serious smile and devious eyes, said: “Now I’m gonna go make some real art”.
A walk in the back-alleys of Florentin, Tel Aviv.
Done on Hamered (translation: Rebellion) Street, separating the old, ground-bound
and picturesque Neve Zedek quarter from office buildings that loom over it.
Like any commercial boulevard, anywhere in the modern world,
Ibn Gabirol St. is a constant bombardment of your senses. It’s more than just colors, sounds and smells. Anywhere you look, you are being sold something. From the shops and cafes to the billboards and the sides of buses.
Unless you are actively shopping at this exact time, the natural reaction is a dimming of the senses, a blurring of the outside reality, to grant yourself some peace. These dimmed hours accumulate over a month, a year, a lifetime.
Our small installations aim to be tiny havens for the senses, spots to which your eyes can flee, where no one is pitching you anything. Spots that remind you and hopefully aid you to stay present and in the present.