fog of war

noga or yam
tel aviv

The fog of war, coined by Carl von Clause­witz in his sem­i­nal work On War, describes the uncer­tain­ty expe­ri­enced by mem­bers of armed forces in mil­i­tary operations.
Over the past year, the city’s spaces have shut down, shut­ting away its res­i­dents. At the same time, despite a fear of the pan­dem­ic, crowd­ed streets haven’t giv­en up on rais­ing a voice in the face of an oppres­sive polit­i­cal system.
A nar­rowed pub­lic space and the threat it holds for those pass­ing through it have exist­ed and still do, while also creep­ing into the pri­vate space, as part of gov­ern­men­tal strate­gies. Blur­ring the lines between inside and out­side, and a sense of intru­sion and vio­lent enforce­ment, for me, blend­ed with expe­ri­ences of com­plex post-trauma.
Lay­ers of roto­scope ani­ma­tion strip the footage of the protests of its con­tent, lay­ing bare the vio­lence that has become an intrin­sic part of this new pub­lic space.
In face of all those, the open fields behind my par­ents’ moshav have become a refuge; the same vis­tas I sought to leave behind, crammed with mem­o­ries, have become eas­i­er to wan­der about in with a cam­era in my hands, re-exam­in­ing fears, black holes and truths, and try­ing all the while to reclaim a sense of home.