Singular Bodies

Silver gelatin print, 2025

A few days after October 7, I began visiting the military section of Mount Herzl. I positioned my camera near a newly designated plot created for the burial of the war’s first casualties. But instead of photographing the graves, I turned my lens toward a lone Arbutus tree standing in a small patch of land adjacent to the section from the 1956 Sinai War. What began as a moment of observation became a repeated act, part of my weekly visits to the site. From my perspective, the trees gradually took on human form; both physically and emotionally.

Mount Herzl is a national, cultural, and social monument. Turning the gaze away from the expected— the graves, and toward the overlooked—the trees, which were never meant to be the focus, let alone photographed, became, for me, not only an exploration of this space, but also a personal reflection: a look inward at myself and my role as an Israeli man.

When I was called to serve, I did not report, despite the values I was raised on. The personal impulse outweighed the national one. Still, at times, that impulse falters. Like the Arbutus tree, I find myself standing between the new and the old sections—neither close nor far, suspended between past and future, between hope and reality. This is where I stand each day: in between.

For this project, I used a 4x5 large-format analog camera. Each photograph was exposed on black-and-white negative plates and hand-printed in the darkroom. Like every soul lost, like every tree that stands—each print is a singular object. The traditional process demands time and allows for extended reflection on the military section of Mount Herzl, as captured in the images.

Being physically present at Mount Herzl, with all its psychological weight, enables the creation of images that do not necessarily document the present moment. These images contain metaphorical components of another time and place - where the subject’s significance eclipses the time and place of its capture.