אלה גרינבום מגיבה ל׳קול אדם׳ מאת רמי באר ללהקה הקיבוצית

“Every interpretation is redundant. Because interpretation leads to interpretation of the interpretation, and interpretation of the interpretation of the interpretation. In the end, the interpretations themselves seek to be interpreted, and meanwhile a person’s years pass, and the interpretations remain unexplained.”
S.Y. Agnon, The Book of Deeds 

This is what was written in the program notes of the evening’s elaborate performance.

I tried not to interpret, and to simply surrender to the movement, but it was hard not to connect the outer world to the inner, reality to imagination, art to life. It is also hard for me as an independent artist in a country where the budgets for the arts keep getting slashed in favor of wars, not to think about the funds invested in this evening. And yes, I was envious.
Maybe I never dared to dream of staging a performance at the Opera House? I wondered.
I settled into my seat and thought how pleasant it is to sit and watch dance: beautiful bodies moving freely, with flexibility, strength, and softness, creating movement and imagery in space.
To sit and dive into movement and creation, to fly alongside them in my imagination.
To disconnect for an hour from the terrible reality outside, and just go with them.
And I did manage to, for a few brief moments.

Most of the time, however, the images screamed at me. A red light. Dancers running in place. Lines and columns of soldier-like marching. A long text, the Universal Declaration of Human Rights.
The opening song of the show was set to an arrangement of “Ein Li Eretz Acheret” (I Have No Other Country) by Corinne Allal.

There we all were, those who have no other country: around 1,600 men and women in the grand hall, quietly watching the unrest, the dance of reality, the mirror of our existence.
Just a moment ago we had passed Hostages Square and saw the familiar faces from the photos. A moment before that, we were sitting in bomb shelters, under rocket fire. And how much more will we have to endure?

“Where do we go?”  another line from the soundtrack.

And all I wanted was to escape, to forget, to watch art that would distract me from reality.

The Opera House was described by the voiceover before the show started as a “protected space.”
“But so many glass panes shattered here,” my neighbor said to her friend.
She had a lot to say in general.
During the section with the Human Rights Declaration, she burst out: “School!”
Maybe she meant that we, the posh Opera House crowd, surely already know this text by heart.
There’s no need to repeat them to us again and again.
And surely, we also know that they’re being violated not far from here, over and over.

A growing sense of suffocation welled up inside me, and I tried to breathe deeply and focus on the beauty of the dance.
Young dancers, capable of anything. But how free are they, really?
Free from the same bondage referenced in the performance?
Some came here from abroad just to dance in this red land.
They express our need for freedom, our need is dancing.
Dance is liberation… and the interpretations started dancing in my head.

“All human beings are born free. No one shall be held in slavery. We all have the right to housing and personal space.”

The soundtrack kept firing bursts of words at us.

There were magical moments when I was able to let go and relax a bit: a duet between two male dancers, ensemble sections.
Moments that made me forget the outside world. For a moment.
Maybe if men danced instead of fought, there would be peace? Another interpretation.

And then the war march returned; harsh sounds, red lights, dancers lying down, cast aside.
And they rise from it. They overcome.
And may we will all overcome.

“Maybe next year,” says the soundtrack.

I leave to a reality that hasn’t changed at all.
I’ve run out of words. I’ve also run out of air.

“Breathe deeply,” I remind myself.

I breathed and looked square at my dark thoughts.
Naively, I wanted to see art that would make me forget reality, if only for a moment, but it’s impossible to forget, impossible to escape.

Rami Be’er created, from within what is happening to him and to us, a beautiful piece of art that dances this very hardship, so much so that it was hard to enjoy.

Apparently, escape is simply not an option.

The Kibbutz Contemporary Dance Company presented Kol Adam  by Rami Be’er on July 14, 2025, at The Opera House, The Tel Aviv Performing Arts Center.