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A Peek Upstairs

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Despite her love of art, when Anna arrived in Jerusalem in 1912, the strong Jerusalem light and barren landscape, so different from lush Europe, overwhelmed her to such an extent that for the next few years she did not paint. She eventually began drawing again while in Damascus where her husband was stationed during World War One. Returning to Jerusalem after the war, Anna began sketching in Jerusalem, the Galilee, and Jericho. She used a variety of mediums: ink, crayon, pencil, graphite and sanguine. With her bare lines she manages to capture the poverty and dejection of the careworn inhabitants. Alongside her portraits, you can see more detailed sketches of the rocky Jerusalem landscape and its venerable trees. Anna’s deep connection to the land, despite her initial hesitation, comes through in a quote I read under one of her sketches: “I didn’t choose the landscape; it chose me.” Despite Anna’s ability to get to the essence of her subjects with but a few lines, I am drawn to a more detailed portrait of an elderly Yemenite woman. As I examine the contours, I can almost feel the tightness of her headscarf cutting into the sides of my own face. In 1930, Anna held her first exhibition in her home. She went on to receive several honorary titles and awards, including the Israel Prize in 1980.

 

The Yemenite Exhibition

Because of her love for Jerusalem, Anna bequeathed her home to serve as a public cultural center for the people of the city. An active changing exhibition program offers the public the chance to enjoy artists free of charge. Until September 13, visitors to Ticho House are taken back to Yemen of the 30’s and 40’s through the works of photographer Yihye Hayib (1911-1977). Hayib, who lived in Sana’a, was given two cameras by his Italian employers, part of a delegation of doctors. In an attempt to keep Western influence far from Yemenite culture, photography was against the law. Hayib, however, often concealed behind windows, managed to capture the dress, customs and lifestyle of the Yemenite, European and Muslim communities that lived there. Formal photos of great rabbis and their families, such as Mori Yihye Ghiyath and his sons, are displayed side-by-side with a photo of a shy ten-year-old bride in full wedding regalia that weighs so much she must have sat through most of the wedding ceremony. I envy the languid pose of a wife of an Italian doctor who Hayib snapped lounging on a simple wicker couch, her young Yemenite attendant by her side. But it’s the morbidly fascinating scene of a public beheading that holds my attention the longest: the surrounding hills throng with crowds who gathered to witness the traditional Muslim punishment of a murderer. The murderer’s arm, a white bandaged stump, the hand cut off for thieving, hangs by his side. Hayib managed to capture the very moment before the executioner’s sword descends. Alongside is a photo of two beheaded bodies, hung out for three days and nights, as a warning to others.

 

Little Jerusalem

The Tichos, active in the social and cultural life of Jerusalem, were used to hosting artists and intellectuals for coffee and strudel in their home. It’s therefore fitting for Ticho house to continue that tradition of feasting the soul and palate. A renewed vision began twenty-one years ago when Nava Bibi heard that the Israel Museum was looking for a new operator for the ground floor cafe of Ticho House. Nava, the first woman hotel manager in Israel, had plenty of experience as a former manager of the King David and other major hotels. But she was looking for something beyond the commercial. “We don’t run just a business here,” says Orit Dahan, manager of Little Jerusalem and Nava’s daughter. “This is a family business of hospitality. Everyone who works here is a family member. Even when we recruit waiters, they are usually friends of our present waiters.” I trace the outline of an olive tree sketching that covers the top of every lime-green decked table in the restaurant, then cup my hands around the cappuccino provided on the house. I can’t help feeling that the caring of the Tichos is still very much present in their home.

 

 

 

 

 

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Rhona Lewis made aliyah more than 20 years ago from Kenya and is now living in Beit Shemesh. A writer and journalist who contributes frequently to The Jewish Press’s Olam Yehudi magazine, she divides her time between her family and her work.