A Home Is A Home

Solo Show, Peripherie 8, Basel, CH, 2024

The third part of The Court Jester project, the installation A Home Is Home, explores the notions of nomadic habitat, ancestral land, borders, dispossession, forced displacement, and reconstruction. It uses the location of the Peripherie 8 space, situated on the border between Basel-City and Basel-Land, as both a chromatic and geographical reference. The pieces bear stigmata reminiscent of gutted buildings and the landscape seen from above in a war zone. The installation focuses on the Palestinian enclave of Gaza, a zone, a land, and a home for millions of people. It serves as a philosophical and personal reflection on issues of responsibility, information, and involvement, examining what it means to have—or lack thereof—a home, or not, within one’s own country.

I don’t know who to turn to, so I’m relying on you.

I won’t forget 2003, the protest marches in the cities, the millions of “peace” flags, asking the USA not to invade Iraq. I was 12. Bush, second of his name, went ahead anyway, under the guise of the battle between good and evil . Just like Europe centuries ago, setting off on crusades, convinced that religion somehow justifies action. These same scenes have been repeating since October 2023. The words “Cease-fire now” resonate. Dead letter.

November 11, 2004

I think of Arafat’s final days in a heavily secured hospital in the French capital.

May 2018

I won’t forget Donald adding fuel to the fire with his decision to move the American embassy from Tel Aviv to Jerusalem. A surreal scene of this man pretending to pray at the Western Wall, wearing a kippah, while his only god is money.

I won’t forget the question posed by Swiss minister Ignazio Cassis upon his return from Jordan, “Is UNRWA part of the solution or the problem?” without questioning what’s wrong with more than five million Palestinians living outside their country.

2021

I think of the images of Palestinian children throwing stones at Israeli tanks. Déjà vu, reminding me of my first memories of TV news.

I will never forget October 7, 2023. This date marks a time stamp for me, like September 11 did over time. The beginning of a new phase where anything can happen, where everything seems possible, excusable, understandable, while nothing really is.


How can we find objective and accurate information about the ongoing war if no international journalist is allowed to cover the conflict?


I won’t forget the economic blockade that has been in place for twenty years.


I won’t forget the ravers at the Nova festival, dancing atop the desert with a view of the separation wall, while an apartheid is happening on the other side. There is something tragic about the massacre that day, at that place, targeting young civilians at a cultural event. But I can’t help but wonder what these people were doing there and the obvious ethical questions it raises. Would I have gone there to escape life and the oppressive society of the city if I were a young Israeli resident, or would my humanity and morals have prevailed, telling me that something was wrong about it? I ask myself that question and wonder if those lost people asked themselves that too.


I won’t forget the French political class, who debate longer on condemning the October 7 attacks and labelling Hamas as a terrorist group than on their own country’s involvement in arms deliveries to Israel and, therefore, direct funding of the ongoing eradication of a peoples.


I think of the first call from Romandie Swiss artists to the Federal Council to demand a cease-fire and an end to cooperation with Israel. Dead letter.


I won’t forget the interview of a Hamas leader on Al Jazeera, saying on camera that no civilians were killed on October 7.


I think of American presidential candidate Marianne Williamson announcing that if elected, she would stop the conflict within 24 hours by halting all American arms shipments. Dead letter.


I won’t forget the violence of ministers Bezalel Smotrich and Itamar Ben-Gvir, calling Palestinians “human animals.”

November 2023

I think of a protest of thousands ending with speeches and calls for a cease-fire at the Place des Nations in front of the UN in Geneva. The range of emotions this significant moment stirs in me. I look at the famous sculpture of the big chair with its missing leg, and all I see is a symbol of our ailing democracies. The streets roar with legitimate demands, the power imitates the three little monkeys: sees nothing, says nothing, hears nothing. Dead letter.


I think of the protest slogan “Cassis complicit, Switzerland complicit!” Dead letter.


I won’t forget the partisan machinations and political calculations, defying all common sense, humanity, and peace.

December 16, 2023

I won’t forget the massive demonstrations and the call for a general strike in the streets of Tel Aviv, once again demanding the release of hostages, the cessation of hostilities, and the resignation of the government. Dead letter.

January 2024

I think of my heated discussion with my Israeli friend, of their despair over the global situation. Their personal situation, described to me in detail. Their testimony of hopelessness, telling me that people they have known for years who no longer talk to them. That people avoid them in the places they frequent. That since October 7, not a single person has checked in on them or their family. Their feeling of loneliness. The difficult memories of collective trauma this situation awakens in them. Their message months later, telling me, “I’ll reply later, I’m heading down to the streets in Tel Aviv.” Me telling them, “If you’re going to a protest, shout for me.” And their reply: “I will.”


I won’t forget all the “surgical strikes” by the IDF that tore apart buildings and dug ten-meter-deep holes in the ground.


I think of Ben Harper singing A House Is A Home.

February 2024

I won’t forget the blockade of humanitarian trucks at the checkpoints.


I think of the Geneva Conventions, trampled on with each new incident.


I think of the second call from Romandie Swiss artists to the Federal Council to demand a cease-fire and an end to cooperation with Israel. Dead letter.

March 2024

I think of the police presence in the Jewish quarter of Zurich, which I walk through every day for four months, where people are attacked with knives on the street.


I won’t forget the video of the actor Gérard Darmon in an IDF base, offering his fervent support to the soldiers.


I think of the Wikipedia page of Palestine, the death toll reported by its Ministry. It keeps filling up every day. Dead letter.


I won’t forget the biased media coverage, the fake news, the loss of moral decency, and the lack of journalistic objectivity.


Beni plays the situation like a deck of cards, making alliances with his knaves, turning laws and rules into his queens, thinking himself a king, always keeping an American ace up his sleeve, without even bothering to wear the joker’s mask.


I think of all I want to say, and the only sentence that comes out in this moment: “Gaza, my heart bleeds when I think of you.”

April 2024

I will not forget the attacks, sometimes double strikes on Al-Shifa, on almost every hospital in the Gaza Strip.


I will not forget that Instagram comment under a photo of the roof of a World Central Kitchen vehicle, pierced by a rocket launched by the IDF, killing seven humanitarian workers, leading to the suspension of the NGO’s activities due to the risks, with the comment reading, “pretty good shot for a mistake.”


I will not forget the retired Swiss politician, Marc Meyer, bragging about his participation in the pogroms in the occupied territories of the West Bank during an interview on a Swiss French television report.


Missile launcher, human target, house of cards, rocket launcher, human shield, iron dome.


I think of the mobilization of students in American university campuses, then everywhere else, thinking to myself that this might be our generation’s Vietnam. Dead letter.

May 2024

I will not forget the Al Jazeera ban, with every live broadcast since saying, “we are reporting live from Jordan because Israel banned us from the country.”


I will not forget the two thinkers on a France Info talk show debating whether the war on Gaza could be classified as genocide, one explaining that there are five criterias that must be met for it to qualify, the other arguing that we are at four so far. The nature of the debate is borderline indecent.


I will not forget the man in a suit and tie storming into the University of Geneva, shouting at those occupying the campus, “you are criminals!”


I think of the old white judge at the International Court of Justice with his curlers, presiding over yet another hearing, point by point recounting the Israeli army’s atrocities, its contempt for human rights, its disregard for international law, followed by the decision to issue international arrest warrants against Beni and company. Dead letter.


I think of the protest chant, “Israel get lost, Palestine is not yours!” Dead letter.


I will not forget the member of La France Insoumise, suspended from the French National Assembly for 15 days—the harshest penalty under the regulations—for waving a Palestinian flag during a session.


I will not forget Swiss journalist Darius Rochebin interviewing Beni on France’s LCI news channel in prime time, with a red banner at the bottom of the screen announcing an “exclusive interview,” as if they were receiving a rock star.


I think of the high school students at the end of a protest in front of the Geneva Parliament, making as much noise as possible in order to be heard. Dead letter.

A Home Is A Home, exhibition views

June 2024

I think of the protest chant, “We are all, children of Gaza!” Dead letter.


I think of the speech given by a Jewish artist representing an association at the end of a pro-Palestinian demonstration in Geneva, his voice and hand trembling as he read his text, applauded afterward by everyone present. Dead letter.


I will not forget how anti-Semitism and Islamophobia, already underlying in so-called democratic countries, became more than present after several victories of the far-right electoral.


I think of the elders who talk about the Six-Day War, the Yom Kippur War, and the Intifadas. I think of the young who will recount the War of Gaza.


I think of a poetry reading by a fellow artist at a festival, wearing a Palestinian national football team jersey, ending with “From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free.” Dead letter.


I think of Rima Hassan’s keffiyeh on the podium of the French New Popular Front after the first round of legislative elections in France and the controversies that followed. Is it the keffiyeh, her person, or both that bother people?

July 2024

I think of the UN reports, international NGOs, and even Israeli human rights organisations documenting the violence of masked pogroms, their systematic nature, and the lack of judicial consequences for the involved settlers. Dead letter.


I will not forget Beni addressing the podium of the U.S. Congress followed by a standing ovation from the elected officials.


I think of the work of Amnesty International, or the Jewish Voices For Peace, of the Reporters Without Borders, and the hundreds of Palestinian journalists killed despite wearing helmets and vests clearly marked with “PRESS” in large letters.

September 2024

I think about slipping a watermelon into the thought bubble of a chat on Instagram instead of a comment.


I will not forget Switzerland once again suspending its aid to the UNRWA.


I will not forget the double standard and the inaction of the West. They concern unspoken issues of religion and ethnicity, more than any other reasons stated aloud. What I perceive from this situation is a hatred for Arabic people and Muslims, not a fear of terrorism.


I think of the third appeal by Romandie Swiss artists to the Federal Council to demand a ceasefire and an end to cooperation with Israel. Dead letter.


I will not forget the scandal at the start of the academic year at the University of Geneva. The annual student agenda is banned. Inside, there are drawings of key moments from the previous year, as tradition dictates. The 2024-2025 agenda depicts the large concrete steps shaped like an amphitheater at Uni-Mail, the occupation of the premises by certain students and activists, flags hanging from the different levels, and a particular slogan regularly shouted. The CICAD intervened and had the agenda banned from the building, claiming it was a call for the destruction of Israel. The agenda would then be distributed outside the main entrance of the building. The question of freedom of expression is raised here, given the context in which the drawings and slogans are expressed. Morality, when more importance is put to banning a student agenda than stopping the ongoing massacre. But also balance, by reversing the roles. Would there have been a ban if the drawing had said, “From the river to the sea, Israel will be free”?


I think of AFP’s Palestinian photographer Mahmud Hams, receiving the Visa d’or News Award at the International Festival of Photojournalisme in Perpignan. In a video interview, he says, “I hope to return to Gaza one day. My body is no longer there, but my heart still is.”


I think of the protest chant, “Israel assassinates, children of Palestine!” Dead letter.

October 2024

I will not forget the IDF’s attacks and invasions in Syria, Lebanon, Iraq, Yemen, and Iran, in violation of all international laws.


I will not forget the equivalent of six Hiroshima bombs dropped on Gaza in one year.


I think of the numbers and reports every day. Human beings become statistics, existing only through their disappearance.

October 7, 2024

I will not forget Beni’s speech in September 2023 before the United Nations, showing a map representing the countries of what he calls the “New Middle East” and the Mediterranean Sea. Across the entire territory bounded by its borders, it is written in large letters: Israel. No mention of the West Bank, the occupied territories, or the Gaza Strip. He stands to the right of the map, near the river. His finger points to the left, toward the sea. He smiles as he speaks. At that moment, I understand two things. In his mind, Palestine does not deserve to be on a map. In his mind, Gaza does not even exist.

And yet, what remains of it is there.

October 7, 2033

I think of what I promised myself ten years ago: “Never stop talking about Palestine.”
A land is a homeland.

A country is a house.

A territory is a refuge.

A home is a home.

Sylvain Gelewski

Performance : María Sabato
Translation : Farah Mirzayeva
Sound design : Henry Sims
Exhibition photography, video documentation : Stefan Schmidlin
Video editing : Massimiliano Rossetto
The exhibition is supported by the Christoph Merian Stiftung.

Soundtrack playlist :
Petit Pays, Cesária Evora, 1995
La Complainte du Partisan, Anna Marly, 1943
Zahrat al-Mada’en, Fairouz, 1967
DLP 3, William Basinski, 2014