Doron Rabina
Doron Rabina Photo by Yanai Yehiel
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People are quick to use the term “bald,” but a tiny change in hair length completely transforms the face. When you can deliberate over a length of 0.5 centimeters or 0.3 centimeters, even baldies can have a bad hair day.

I am the offspring of a family with a history of melanoma and I live in a sun-drenched country. This climate is more tolerable for Arabs and Mizrahim; Ashkenazim preserve constant alienation toward the place. In an article I wrote about Israeli photography, I called this “melanomic displacement.” I like the body’s dependence on instruments − they charm me. The body is a collection of abilities and limitations. I decided to go out one night without my glasses and didn’t notice that for 10 minutes I was making eyes at a coat someone had left on the other side of the bar.

Art creates critical thought. That’s why the right wing represses art studies in every possible way, as part of a strategy of silencing things. In our time, art equals democracy. This is one of the crucial struggles we need to engage in now.


In the plastic arts, fragments of abstract ideas become objects in the world. There is something moving about that, yet also vulgar: that in order to mediate refined ideas, you need a concrete object and that there will always be a disparity between it and the thought that fomented it.

I can’t abide the accessibility that is required of me. I have an old cellular phone, just so it won’t have Internet capability. So that I won’t sit in a cafe and read emails. It’s not chic, but it spares me enslavement.

I made a video of a homeless man in a park in Barcelona at 3:30 in the morning. Suddenly I felt him choking and hitting me, and I lost consciousness. I woke up as he tried to steal the camera. I shouted at him until he took fright and ran off.