The group exhibition Toward a Horizon (a Proposal) seeks to place the substrate and the base at its center. These concepts, usually associated with the base layer - the primary stratum upon which the artistic act takes place - here assume a new role, becoming the central actors. The selected works present two distinct approaches: some employ unconventional or unorthodox substrates, while others prominently feature the substrate, allowing it to emerge and occupy a central, dramatic position - as an alternative to its traditional, hidden role. The exhibition seeks to shift the gaze from the image to its conditions, from the visible image to that which bears it. The substrate and the base - those elements usually perceived as a quiet, almost transparent layer upon which the art unfolds - cease to be merely a passive background and become an active, sometimes even dominant, presence that shapes the work’s meaning no less than the image itself. From a hidden, stable foundation to a scene where something happens, a scene of tension and choice. They are not merely a precondition of making art, but a living, charged material seeking to be seen and heard and to resist. Through acts of exposure, emphasis, and diversion, the hierarchy of the surface and what lies underneath, between content and the infrastructure that supports it, is reexamined. This idea, which underlies the exhibition - the reversal of order - operates on two levels: on the one hand, it addresses the inherent hierarchy embedded in every work of art; on the other, it offers an allegorical reading of the human, cultural, and political possibility of reversing these foundations. What if the hidden, primordial foundation were exposed, brought to the foreground, and made present in visible reality?

Yonatan Zofi has, in recent years, engaged with the pictorial substrate in many of his works, often creating this material himself. The works presented here were born out of the aspiration to create the drawing together with its base, to bind them profoundly, so that they were formed together and of the same material. The work was made of white glue painted onto a plastic surface. After the glue had dried, the work was peeled off the surface. The image consists of layers of glue of varying thicknesses, ranging from a painterly appearance to a relief; it is a work that can be “touched” by the eye.
In Rotem Ritov’s work- we encounter the figures of the “Good Shepherd” and “Me.dusa” - reimagined versions of religious and cultural myths from across the Middle East, as well as narratives and familiar local imagery. The figures of the “Good Shepherd” and “Me.dusa” allude to the artist’s autobiographical story and its close connection to the social, national, and political context that has shaped her identity. The postures of the figures in the work “The Altar of the Good Shepherd” were inspired by the painting “David and Goliath” by Orazio Gentileschi, Artemisia’s father. Ritov draws on a substrate of masking tape, which lends the drawing a sculptural quality. It is no longer passive, but becomes an integral part of the drawing’s structure and of the construction of the images. The masking tape connects, holds, separates, covers, and reveals all at once - thus expanding the range of the drawing’s impact.

Lucy Elkiviti presents a work consisting of four portraits of a girl, photographed on her birthday (presumably). The portraits are printed on squares of toilet paper, using the cyanotype technique. The photographic process, which involves rinsing with water, jeopardizes the survival of the delicate paper and thus endangers the fragile memory of the birthday party.
Dalia Zerahia draws by embroidering with threads on old cloth napkins collected at flea markets. She is not a skilled embroiderer and treats the act as a very simple form of drawing. The cloth napkins themselves carry different biographies, allowing Zrahia to create a new chapter in their lives. The images evoke European winter landscapes, joined by images of Christmas reindeer.
Veronique Inbar’s video installation simulates a sunset and a horizon line. Inbar says, “God creates the world with a phrase (let there be); Barnett Newman said that to create a world in a painting, it was sufficient to draw a line across the page.”
In recent years, she has been painting through video, seeking to introduce the dimension of time into her work. In this piece, she draws a circle on the line, its placement transforming it into a sun, a depiction of a sunset - a worn-out cliché. However, the movement breathes new life into it, infusing it with humor and self-awareness. The projection onto a galvanized metal sheet, unlike the usual wall or screen, lends the digital image a true painterly quality.
Vicky Skandarion’s series of works is based on a random and intuitive creative process: diluted paint in brown tones is poured onto smooth, non-absorbent surfaces, so that the natural dispersion of the paint on the surface creates hinted shapes, figures, and landscapes from which she extracts the image through subtraction, marking, and

addition. The works feature several archetypal and mythological figures that represent the deep, primeval connection between human beings, the earth, and wild instincts.
Iris Guy exhibits a series of tiny needlework pieces. This laborious, calming, and healing handiwork serves to immortalize intimate moments captured in a fleeting instant with a phone camera, almost casually. The cross-stitching mimics digital pixels and produces poetic and touching images. Most of the cross-stitched works are made on brown paper bags - the kind used to pack school lunches. This everyday object, entirely foreign to the art world, becomes a simple, convenient artistic solution in the home, imbuing the works with both domestic and tragic connotations.
The series of quick portraits by Lily Cohen Perah-ya was created through intuitive, freehand gestures. She drew them on metal plates she had found on the street. Each portrait bears a unique “angelic time” on its side, such as 14.14 or 21.21, serving as a sort of hidden code that confers a mystical, spiritual status on the anonymous figures. The combination of the cold, industrial surface, the freehand line, and the symbolic time creates an undeciphered code that hints at a spiritual interpretation from the realms of the unknown.
Tamar Lederberg presents a work centered on pencil drawings on a concrete brick. The word “orphan” - which instinctively evokes the image of a parentless child - appears on what seems like a small tombstone. The inscription is deceptive, diverting attention from the deceased to the living subject.
Lederberg returns to the existential condition of orphanhood, a theme that was central to her last two solo exhibitions. Concrete, associated with massive, monumental


construction, is used on a miniature scale, delicately drawn in pencil, alongside erasures and traces of searching.
The photographic installation by Eti Namir explores an unusual substrate for the photographic image. Fallen autumn leaves become both a photographic medium and subject matter. Through this extraordinary choice, which demands great skill and numerous attempts, Namir imprints a human presence upon the leaves. Portraits of the artist’s nieces are embedded in the leaf’s texture, maintaining a dual connection to roots: familial and botanical. Over time, some leaves have decayed, and parts of the emulsion have faded. This is an ongoing work that never ceases to evolve. Hovering over it is the threat of erasure and decay.
Natali Issahary presents a collage-like work based on damaged jigsaw puzzles, some of which are missing pieces. Issahary receives puzzles with missing pieces from friends, puzzles that no longer serve any purpose or function. Working in a darkroom, the artist prints the shapes of the missing pieces and uses them to complete the puzzles. In the work “Starry Night,” originally painted by Vincent van Gogh from memory while he was hospitalized, an investigation takes place, using “restoration” through analog photographic techniques. This is not merely an attempt to salvage material, but an act of clinging to and documenting gaps in memory. This act refers to the Japanese kintsugi technique, which seeks to redefine the concept of “wholeness.”