War! or Why You Wont Save the World with Facebook

My whole life I have avoided having an opinion on Israel. As a Jew, there is extra pressure to “pick a side,” but I never felt comfortable doing so because none of the information ever seemed clear or unbiased. In fact, my most common response was “Well, I don’t know, but I can tell you this…when I went to Jordan and Israel as a child the Jordanians were amazingly nice and the Israelis were really pretty horrible.” Which is true. I got in trouble in Hebrew school with my conservative Israeli teacher, she even called my parents into school and their response was “Well, she was actually there, so what do you expect her to say?” I would note though that we were stuck in Eilat the whole time because the center of Israel, of course, was in danger at the moment and my parents decided it was best that we don’t go where suicide bombers are blowing us busses.

I have spent the past six months in Israel, and while there (as all of you know) I have experienced an oh-so-familiar Israeli experience. War. I have never been in war before. I mean, The US is ALWAYS at war somewhere, but they keep it far away from America and most Americans barely even think about it. And I lived in NY for Sept 11^th, and that was scary, but it’s not the same. It’s not the same to know that at any moment some government may make a choice that is going to make life more dangerous, it’s not the same to know friends and friends of friends who have been out of the army for years are being called back to potentially go into a life-threatening war zone, it’s not the same to hear a siren and know that the Iron Dome will intercept it, but still listen in worry for a boom to know you’re safe.

When the rockets started coming more frequently in the South (I say more frequently because it is going on all the time) I had several Israelis explain to me that this was to be expected. It’s the summer. It’s hot. People are cranky. Rockets are firing? Eh, it’s summer, it’s time for war! What was frightening was to see the Israelis around me change their attitude as they saw that this summer would be a bad one, worse that your average summer war.

My first siren I was alone in my boss’ (also my adopted Israeli mother) house. My room is on the fourth floor of her beautiful home in Petah Tiqwa. I had just been talking to an Israeli who lives in NY and he was asking me if I had dealt with a siren yet. When it came on I was slightly confused and then realized what it was. It’s an unforgettable sound. I ran downstairs, assuming I was supposed to go to the basement and not knowing where the mamad (shelter that every single Israeli home is supposed to have) is. In a slapstick inspired moment the alarm of the house also came on as I tried to run down the stairs, not sure what to do I quickly jammed the code in and it blared louder as I put the code in incorrectly. Eventually I gave up and got to the basement, with the siren and house alarm at full blast. I stayed down there for a while as I didn’t know the protocol (you’re supposed to wait ten minutes after the siren, but you try telling an Israeli that). Eventually I went back up to my room, a little shaken but ok. Two hours later there was another siren, but this time the kids were home. I can’t tell you how silly I felt when I walked downstairs and my boss’ two youngest kids were just playing and watching tv like nothing was happening. At this point the rockets to the center (Tel Aviv and the surrounding cities) had just begun and no one was taking it seriously or scared…yet. These kids grew up with it, everyone in Israel has grown up with rockets, whatever fears they might have they stifle because you can’t let rockets ruin your life.

It was then that I heard my first boom, too. That is something terrifying I was not prepared for. When a rocket is fired into Israel the Iron Dome responds. What that means is that as a rocket is flying, two Israeli missiles go after it (two, in case the first one fails) when the Israeli missiles destroy the rocket it makes a very large boom…but I didn’t know this until after my first few booms and assumed that meant the land was being hit (for the record, the land does get hit, the Iron Dome doesn’t intercept when rockets hit open fields or the sea). Sometimes these booms are so close they shake the building. It’s scary. I don’t get scared easily, but to be in the situation is scary. If it weren’t for the Iron Dome there would be huge amounts of damage and more importantly, huge amounts of casualties. I saw an article recently that referred to Hamas’ rockets as “impotent.” That’s simply not true, these rockets are incredibly dangerous and life-threatening and it is only because Israel has spent so much money and used it’s best brains to create a system to defend it’s people. So when you look at the casualty numbers in Gaza and Israel, remember that. The numbers would be far greater if it weren’t for this incredible protective system.

Now, to my real gripe. This is for many of you, mostly in America. I started this post off explaining why I never “picked a side” when it came to Israel. I wish deeply that many of you would try this logic. Your regurgitation of biased articles on both sides is so depressing and so misleading. I see you wringing your hands and beating your chests and lamenting “Oh, I don’t even know what to believe!” You’re right. You don’t know what to believe. The information you get is NEVER without bias. The information you get is NEVER with the full scope of history. You don’t know what to believe? Then don’t believe any of it. Don’t pick a side. Don’t continually post articles and opinions that you can’t fact-check. I recently saw someone post a picture of a beautiful city on top and the ruins of Gaza on the bottom, the text read something like “A beautiful city destroyed for no reason,” except that picture on top was of Haifa, an Israeli city. Now, how is the person who posted that supposed to know? How is she supposed to know that the pictures of bloody children are actually from Syria and not Gaza? I agree it is very hard to know these things. So stop. You’re showing your ignorance and a surprising lack of intelligence.

There is so much you can change, you can affect. Facebook is absolutely a platform that can spark and encourage change. But guess what, no one cares about your opinion here, and it wont change a damn thing. I have seen so often “I feel I should weigh in…” I wonder if anyone says that but Americans, it is such an American frame of mind. Why should you weigh in? You have a PHD in Middle Eastern studies? You served in the IDF? You lived in Gaza for a spell? No? You just have a computer and fingers to type and you’re American so you think you’re opinion needs to be heard for the good of humanity? Well, aren’t you a special snowflake. How righteous of you to spark 40 comment long threads where no one will change their mind or listen to the other side anyway. You’re really making a difference in the world. You don’t want your tax dollars going to Israel? Well good, write a letter to your congressman. DO SOMETHING if it upsets you so much. And while you’re at it, you may want to take a look at all the lovely things your tax money pays for and write a letter about that too.

Look, I’m not saying don’t have an opinion, or don’t discuss the Middle East, but I am saying stop oversimplifying things just for a chance to wave your dick around facebook. Discuss in person, discuss with an open mind. Both sides have valid points and both sides have everything to lose…but you know who has nothing to lose? You. You wont be affected by this conflict, ever. So stop passing judgment and focusing so intently on something that has nothing to do with you. Look in your own backyard if you want to be angry and make changes in the world. Detroit is turning into a third world country. Racism is basically institutionalized in our judicial system. Women are losing the rights they worked so hard to gain. Children are starving while Wall St. bankers shit into golden toilets. Separation of Church and State is nothing more than a punchline to a joke. Politicians are legislating to serve corporations instead of to serve you. YOU CAN DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT. Stop wasting your breath trying to answer questions that cannot be answered (unless you plan to be the next Nobel Peace prize winner, then by all means, please keep focusing on Israel and Gaza). If you really give a shit about helping people, saving people, do it. Do it where you can make a difference, and please, please stop acting like the world’s most difficult international issue is some cut and dry opinion piece you can jizz all over facebook. It’s not.

Finally, I know some of you are awaiting having a conversation with me. I know some of you are anxious to throw attacks at me. I know some of you are genuinely curious and open-minded. Here are some guidelines.

• Don’t ask me to defend the occupation. I wont. I think it’s fucking terrible and needs to end immediately.
• If you don’t believe Israel has a right to exist, I have nothing to say to you. Really. You obviously don’t understand the issues at hand and are almost definitely set in your ways and should probably never mention one word of your bullshit to me.
•  If you support Hamas, see above. Seriously. They are very, very bad and there is no excuse good enough in the world for the kind of atrocities they commit.
• Don’t assume you know what I’m going to say. I was recently at a peace demonstration in Tel Aviv and I have thought long and hard about by own opinion, it is based upon knowledge and experience. You don’t know what I think.  
• If you really think you’re right, on either side, know your history. Don’t talk to me about borders unless you know all about the wars that Israel has fought against it’s neighbors. If you think Gaza is still occupied, you haven’t learned enough to discuss this topic with me.
• Understand that I may not want to talk about it at all. I can’t tell you how many times I have written a comment on one your posts only to delete it because I know the endless internet battle that will follow. I am exhausted by people’s simplifications and accusations already, and that’s only been online. 

That’s it. Bait me at your own risk, or simply be a dear and toast some champagne or shake your booty with me, talking about politics is uncouth anyway.

MIDBURN: Burning Man in Israel

The Temple
Photo by Tzachi Dovrat

It’s the blog post you’ve all been waiting for! I know you all want to know how the virgin burn in Israel was. It's very long so I have labeled sections if you only care to hear about some aspects (or if you're Israeli and the idea of reading this much English makes your head hurt). There have been articles, but none have done it justice. How was it? In one word: Awesome. Everyone who participated should feel proud for the amazing event that was Midburn.

First, let me start by saying this is only MY experience and MY opinion. I am sure many people will disagree with many of my points, that’s fine, opinions are like assholes and all that jazz. I do not pretend to be the final word on burniness, nor do I pretend to know all of what was going on. I simply know what I have experienced.

Just Like Burning Man?!

The Man and Eve, the Midburn Effigy
Photo by Tzachi Dovrat

Desert: 
So, what was the same as Black Rock City (or Nevada as everyone in Israel calls it, and henceforth I shall do the same)? Well, it’s a desert for starters. A desert with dust storms and dust tornados, except it’s actually sand. I didn’t know it would be so windy and as a result was gravely unprepared, bringing only one bandana and no goggles. As fellow contact wearers can attest to, this fucking sucked. I
basically had to hide during whiteouts for the sake of my already dry and uncomfortable eyes. Bad burner. Always bring goggles, always bring a dust mask. On the upside, the sand was not nearly as toxic as Nevada and did not dry out everything in your body immediately, I didn’t even lose my voice! However, it was WAAAY fucking hotter. The sun feels stronger in Israel and the desert was no different. This also meant the nights were not nearly so cold as in Nevada, some night were even so warm, one could wear practically nothing and have her tits out at night!

City: 
It was a city, with lettered and clocked roads. Now, right before the event (literally RIGHT before it) the army informed the production team that they needed to push the event into a different, smaller space. Can you even imagine such a nightmare? To push a carefully mapped out circular city into a space that is wider than it is long? But, both burners and Israelis know how to roll with the punches and a new map was born. Now I know the new map wasn’t ideal, it included pushing sound camps into “deep” playa behind the effigy and made it lose that great feeling of standing on esplanade and seeing the whole city, but it worked, even if the carefully mapped roads were sometimes ignored and finding an address was a bit confusing.

FIRE!!!!!

Fire tornados coming off the Effigy Burn
Photo by Ron Blecher

There was fire. Not a lot of fire, but burning happened and it was beautiful. This is the first time an event like this has ever been done in Israel and needless to say, the authorities were very skeptical. Israel has many festivals (it is so part of the culture here that the Midburners insisted on calling this an event and not a festival to dissuade people from getting the wrong idea) and the police were not ok with the idea of massive fires, so much so that the night the effigy was supposed to burn, it didn’t. Thankfully the production worked so well with the police that we were able to burn the next night, forcing the effigy and the temple to be burnt on the same night…which was magical, but I’ll get to that later.

That Feeling You Get as You Walk into the BRC:
Most importantly though, the vibe, the ethos, the feeling was the same. The burner spirit was there in full force, which is particularly impressive when you know that only a small percentage of the 3,000 people there had ever been to Nevada. One of my favorite moments was during build week when I was

Shithole Camp. The best, most reliable party on playa. Also the best music.
And yes, that is a Virgin Mary that pours Blood Marys out of her vagina.

fluffing (I will get to that later) and I went up to an art project and offered them some ice. They asked me what a fluffer was and I noticed they had accents. In my head I thought “hmm, I wonder where they’re from?” and it wasn’t until I was walking away from them that I went “Idiot, they’re Israeli.” I had forgotten I was in Israel, I had forgotten I wasn’t in Black Rock City because it all felt so comfortable, so much like home. In many ways Israelis are naturals for the burn. They are comfortable with and know how to handle the desert, they tend to be on the more imaginative and creative side of the brain (there are many articles about Israeli ingenuity, the amount of start-ups, inventions and new ideas that come out of a country that’s only slightly bigger than New Jersey is staggering) and they tend to have an innate sense of community. Israelis take care of each other – my food is your food, my home is your home, you need someone who has a specialty? Quick let me call my relative who knows a guy who knows a guy, we’ll take care of this problem. I believe this sense of community is what made the vibe of Midburn so…burny. It’s not a far step for many Israelis to apply themselves to the ten principles.

Ok, So it wasnt Exactly like Burning Man. 

I'm in Fucking DPW!
Now, I know what you all want to know. How was it different? Well first, let me tell you about my specific experience and how wildly different that was. All four years at Burning Man I have gone early to help (and this year will be no different). I love being there to watch the city grow. I am however, not a builder. In most cases I was dealing with the kitchen for Kostume Kult, which certainly takes work, but not much in the way of building. I was among the first group of people who arrived at the location

Beautiful Mapatz painting done by Sunshine.

for Midburn (where we had to sit and wait for a while because none of the trucks had arrived, of course). I was supposed to run the kitchen for Mapatz (Israeli DPW) but to make a very long story short, I opted out of the kitchen once we were on playa. As a result I ended up being a part of Mapatz. That’s right, I was in DPW, I bet none of you saw that coming. This was an excellent and trying experience for me. I am not used to so much manual labor and especially not in the scorching heat. The first day I over extended, trying to be big and tough and lifted more than I really could. I hurt badly that night and learned from my mistake and did not hesitate to say “no” when it came to doing things that require a lot of strength. I did many things in Mapatz including building the fence around the event, mapping out roads, marking Porta-Potty spaces, working at the gate for opening and of course, unloading and reloading and moving things from one pile to another pile, because of course, as we all know, that’s what a burn is. It was very exciting to build the city, the sense of pride and ownership (ooooh what a non-burner thing to say) was intoxicating. I now understand why the people of DPW are considered to be such assholes. We were only out there a week early, I can’t imagine how one must feel after two months. Everyone comes to DPW for help, and often for idiotic things. You need help with your generators? You didn’t bring the right tools? You don’t know how set up shade? FUCK YOU HIPPIES, WE BUILT THIS CITY!!!! (and then of course we help them).

I Don't Speak Hebrew :(

Language. Oy. What I would give to wake up in the morning and be able to speak Hebrew fluently. It’s not that people didn’t speak English, there was A LOT of English. Israel is a very international community and Midburn was the same, English is often the common denominator when you are speaking to Israelis, Germans, French (I only now realize there is no “Frenchs,” seriously? We have to call you “the French?!), Australians and Americans. Important instructions were often given in English and many people were wonderful about speaking English to me. And my Israeli friends, please know I am so, so, so grateful to you for speaking English to me, I know it takes more thinking and energy and I

A whole bunch of Mapatzniks on what was a fabulous day.

truly can’t thank you enough. What sucked was when everyone would be sitting around in our shade and from all the laughing I could tell a conversation was very entertaining and fun, and I couldn’t be a part of it. I am also used to being able to butt into burner conversations when I overhear something I want to respond to and making friends that way, and this skill was taken from me. But most of all, I know I didn’t get a sense of everyone, or at least how everyone really is. It is only the people who felt comfortable and wanted to speak English with me that I got to know, and even some of them I probably don’t really know who they are because they cannot express themselves in the same way. There are plenty of people I’m sure I would’ve loved, but didn’t get to know because they were not speaking English. Next year I hope to be better and at least be able to have decent conversation in Hebrew.

I am a Playa Goddess, and also מלכה: 

Lifted the whole effigy up by myself. Itai helped a bit.
Photo by Pablo Strauss 

Not only were there changes in my surroundings, but I myself have changed. When I first went to Burning Man it was in 2010 and I was convinced in one night that I had to go by a bawdy pirate who talked my ear off about costumes and art. He would quickly become my boyfriend and a big part of my life for the next two and half years. I recall being in awe of his effortless cool and relaxed demeanor. When we got to playa (to do work) he had this laidback attitude and assurance that everything would work out. While at times he irritated me with this, it was for the most part intoxicating to be around. My first burn was his 5th burn. Midburn was my 5th burn. Many of the midburners had never been to Nevada, or had only been once or twice. I found myself being at ease with who I am and what I wanted to do (or not) and was able to relax, knowing full well that everything was going to work out. Could it be that that same aura of ease that had so attracted me to my ex was now what I was intoxicating others with? I had several people tell me my influence and attitude was a great and helpful addition to the people around me, and that I am "the real deal" or a "real burner." I felt proud that my years of burning showed and that I could help bring the spirit to those around me. It was also the first burn that felt completely mine. This same pirate was with me for the first three burns, and my fourth was greatly eclipsed by the mourning I felt for what had, at times, been a beautiful relationship. At Midburn I was free of any past associations, free of reliving or even invoking old memories, free of anyone knowing what my burns had been before. This burn was mine, and mine alone. 

The Playa in the Negev:

Sabbaleh (Grandpa)
Photo by Yosef Adest

First of, Midburn was much, much smaller. 3,000 people in an area about the size of PEX. This has its pro and cons, if you run out of water or have a champagne bottle to throw out, you’re never too far from your tent. If you see something happening across playa, you can get there and it will still be going on. Your feet are tired, but it’s not as excruciating. On the other hand, there are only a handful of sound camps and things going on at night (basically only esplanade and the sound camps that were pushed into the deeps were alive at night, the rest of the city was dark) and the deeps were not so deep, though that is partially because of the changed map. As many of you might know, my favorite part of Burning Man is being out in the deeps finding art. I don’t always want to dance or drink or party, I love the desert and I love the strange living silence of it. This love was hard to feed at Midburn and it didn’t take long to have seen all the art. But that’s ok, it was the first burn, I know it will be much grander in years to come. The art itself was also not really on par with the art in Nevada, there were some beautiful pieces like the Sabbaleh – a intricately made wood grandpa with perfect lights coursing through his body, and a giant Whale that had projections on it and events inside and big ‘ol baleen teeth to walk through (hot damn do I love walking through movable entranceways), but in general the art was much smaller scale and sometimes not too intriguing, which is also true in Nevada (ugh “cat city”), there’s just waaaaaay more to choose from in Nevada. And again, it was the first burn and for that it was impeccable. I expect next year there will be more funding, more resources and more experience and it will only get better. There were also no art cars. Bummer. Total bummer. There was no way the cops were going to let that happen…but the cops love us now, so hopefully in the years to come there will be that most fun element of a burn.

The Effigy Burn:

The swirling smoke of the Effigy Burn
Photo by Yosef Adest

Sometimes when I describe Burning Man to people they ask me if The Man has ever been a woman. I sadly shake my head and say no (putting an Omega on the crotch isn’t good enough for me). It upsets me that the man has never been a woman - how can a community so determined to treat everyone equally not at some point make the focal point of the entire event a woman? And please, spare me your “the man is the everyman and represents every person" bullshit. No, he's not. If he was, he would be an "it" and we would call him a person. He is a man. And as a woman, maybe you don't care (but I do) and as a man, you will never know how alienating it feels that we are supposed to equate "man" with "person." So, Burning Man has never had a Burning Woman. Lame. But you know what, Midburn did. Midburn had the first ever co-ed effigy, and it was fucking beautiful. Everyone could look at it and see a part of themselves (and before someone attacks me for not including trans people, who is to say either figure was cis-gendered? They were both abstract representations of a man and a woman meeting at the heart, full of love and celebration). It was truly beautiful. The burn itself was magnificent with both figures as silhouettes in the fire. It felt good to watch this fiery couple go down in flames and I was proud to work perimeter on it and contribute in the small way that I could. But that wasn't the only burn that night...

The Best Temple Burn I Have Ever Seen:

The beautiful sunrise Temple Burn
Photo by Maya Oren

I mentioned that the effigy burn got delayed so it had to be burned on the last night. This meant that tit was pushed to the same night as the temple. So what to do? A sunrise temple burn, of course. I cannot stress how beautiful this was. There are no pictures that can possibly describe how the pink of the sunrise and the orange of the flames mixed together. No possible way to tell you how amazing it was when the sun finally peaked through the mountains as the fire raged. The first thing I thought when I saw the temple design was "damn, that's going to be a sexy burn." Each "tree" was lit on its own, making giant towers of flame and smoke that spiraled up out of the top. It was cathartic and it was magical. Unfortunately the traditions of Burning Man aren't necessarily known so well here and a silent burn it was not (not that I insist on silence, I think mourning in any way should be acceptable e.g. the Freebird incident) and there was a lot of talking and laughing and some yelling which was partially fueled by the fact that it was sunrise and people were wasted from the night before. That was a bummer, but hopefully next year the tradition of a respectful temple burn will be more encouraged.

Fine, I'll Get Vaguely Political - Yes, Israel Deserves to have a Burn:

I have had many, many people tell me about a certain email that went around the NY Burner community condemning an Israeli Burning Man. Now, I will admit I have not read it (my inbox is already loaded with NY burner mail, I had to trim the fat somewhere) but I have heard the arguments. As the only NY burner who was actually there, I feel I ought to respond to this. Yes, Israel deserves to have a burn. I have two very clear explanations as to why.

1. The government did not put on Midburn, burners put on Midburn. This community is only three years old. THREE YEARS OLD! Think about your camp, your crew, your state's entire community. Think about the first three years (if you were there). Now think about putting on an actual real fucking burn for 3000 people. It's incredible, it really is. A community so young, that's so filled with people who have never and may never have the chance to go to Nevada being able to pull that off? Remarkable. These burners work their asses off. Like some of you, they have dedicated all of their time, resources, brains and hearts to make this event happen. They worked so hard to bring a spirit and a way of life to their own country. It is a year round community, burner events happen all the time. So they shouldn't have a burn because if their country's government? Is Burning Man a representation of America's government? Does going to Burning Man mean you support what the country does? No, it doesn't. Neither does going to Midburn. For more on this see my previous post: There is Only One Language that Matters

2. For those burnier than thou types who believe Israel shouldn't have a burn because the country doesn't uphold the ten principles...Excuuuuuuuuuuse me, but are you fucking kidding me? We would not have the ten principles if it weren't for the fact that America doesn't abide by anything like them. Go ahead and talk about atrocities that Israel commits, but you know damn well that America has bloody hands and has since it was established. By this logic the only sensible place to have a burn would be someplace completely non-offensive, like Canada or Switzerland. America has a dark and dirty past, and the present isn't much nicer. Get off your high horse, you look like a silly hypocrite up there.

After the sunrise burn, and yes of course I'm swinging a champagne bottle
(cava) around. Me in a bubble. Think snarky politically related thoughts
now. I can't remember who took this picture, sorry!

Finally, I would like to note what a burn is. A burn is world we all decide to create together. A burn fills the void for how we believe the world ought to be. A burn is not the country it is in, it is not the past, the burn is right now, this moment. Immediacy. I think it's interesting to note that countries like America, South Africa and Israel all have such strong burner communities. These are societies plagued by racism and violence and hatred. Is it any wonder we all go out to the desert to create a better world for ourselves? Is it any wonder we want to escape the taunts of the default world and try out the peaceful, accepting and loving atmosphere we all crave? Is it any wonder that for most of us, when we have found each other we are changed for life and refuse to let go of each other? Burning Man is for everyone. Afrikaburn is for everyone. Midburn is for everyone. Leave the hatred aside and remember that a burn is about the love of thousands of people coming together, to burn, to joke, to sing, to dance, to eat, to drink, to smoke, to yell, to mock, to laugh, to prank, to pirate, to smile, to cry, to love, to love, to love, to love, to love. To make a community. To love.

What am I doing here?

So...I'm going to a take a break from my theories and proselytizing and do something more basic. I figure some of you might be interested in what I'm actually doing here as opposed to all my feeeeeelings.

Me, Maor and Tal all wearing the incredible top hats we made

I am here to do a 5 month internship doing costume design for theatre. The internship is amazing. I am working for Maor Zabar (go to his site...it's beautiful maorzabar.com ) and working on incredible work. The hardest part about being on the road as I have been so much this past year is that I couldn't bring my crafty things along with me (I am constantly fantasizing about my boxes of costumes, fabric and unusual things I have collected over the years spread throughout New York, Connecticut, Pennsylvania and California). Without the tools and materials it's very hard to make things. It has been such a joy to create again. I get to do so many different things, and I'm learning new skills all the time. I've made wings of yarn for a stork who loses her feathers when she moves to the city. I've taken steel brushes and paint to a finely made corset until it's red threads hung out in clumps. I've beaded the grass for a whimsical playground for a cat. I've stabbed a leather needle the non-pointy direction straight up under my nail. And, for the first time in over a year, I made a pattern. It was frustrating and challenging and I forgot how much I missed that visual puzzle. I love making things and working with my hands. It is so wonderful to be back.

A glove I was responsible for that was sent
for an exhibition at Musee d'Art Moderne
de la Ville de Paris. The latticed piece makes
a cuff that flares out away from the elbow. 

My other boss is named Tal, and she has given me an exquisite gift. When I moved to Tel Aviv I was given a space in the equivalent of a dorm, our whole internship program (95 or so) as well as other programs that bring foreigners to Israel live there. The rooms range from singles to quads, I am in a double and have one roommate. Our beds, kitchen and closets are all in one room and our bathroom (like many in the building) reeks of mildew and ickiness. I have a pretty high tolerance for filth and unappetizing living conditions, so it isn't really that bothersome to me, but I still complained about it. Tal thought it sounded pretty bad and decided to invite me to live with her. I felt shy and strange about it but she told me just to come for one night and see how I like it and I couldn't say no. She showed me to a beautiful room that takes up the entire top floor of her beautiful four-story house. The room is massive, with a large and soft (oh my god you guys...Israeli beds are so hard) bed, a bathroom of its own and a jacuzzi on the roof. I pretty much decided to accept her offer immediately. I have been living here for about a  couple months or so and it has been great. I live with Tal, her husband and her three kids...which has been good for my hebrew. I hear it much more now and the youngest girl (who is smart and funny and very, very sweet) is only just learning English so I try as best I can to communicate with her in hebrew.

So obviously this is all great. It was made even better when last month they offered me a job. I will now be coming back here in September to work (and get paid this time!) doing what I love. Tal has also

A satyr we did made painstakingly out
foam. Look at those hooves. Amazing.

 offered to let me stay at her house as long as I need to, so I will have time to save up money and find the perfect living situation for me. What this means is that I will be making aliyah. Making aliyah means moving to Israel and getting Israeli citizenship while maintaining my original citizenship. They offer small amounts of money to help at first, as well as Hebrew classes. I love it here and I look forward to properly living here. Learning Hebrew is a daunting task and a bit scary, but it will come. I look forward to being sassy with Hebrew, I enjoy it as a language when it's slow enough that I can understand parts.

Social-wise...I have, of course, been hanging out with the burners...but I'll leave all of that for my next post when I discuss the epicness of Midburn.

So...what else has been going on?

I've been eating mostly vegetarian. I've apparently reached the limit of how tan my skin can get, and it's not that tan. My hair is too long, but it also fits in well here. I've installed a Hebrew keyboard on my laptop and cell phone. I've eaten poyke and misabacha and schnitzel and salads made of tiny little cut up pieces of vegetables. I've drank mud and Arak (though not together). I've chosen a playa name - מלכה (Malka, which means Queen). I have pirated on the Jordan river and become a big fan of large, lightweight, flowing pants.

In two weeks I have spent lots of time in both the desert and then also in the North of Israel and gone from dusty white-outs to luscious greenery and cool water. Israel is amazing. I am hooked and in love.


Next post I will tell you all about Midburn, I'm just waiting to compile some pictures....then I will return to my theories about life and whatnot...because it's my blog and I'll do what I want to.

There is Only One Language that Matters

I hate that I cannot speak Hebrew. Hate it. Not that I can't get along here without it, I can, it's easy to do. Many Israelis speak English, and many speak it very well. And while I hate not knowing what's going on around me, or which meat in the cold cuts section is chicken or what those arsim are saying about me as they point at me at the bar, what really gets me is how it makes me look. I apologize every time I ask someone if they speak English. In the same way I have never, ever wanted to look or act like a tourist, no matter where I go, not being able to speak Hebrew lumps me in with a group that I am uncomfortable being associated with. I don't want to seem like an entitled American asshole who believes everyone should cater to them. I hate asking for an English menu when I'm out...why should you have an American menu for me? It's your country, you don't owe me English, I should suffer if I am not learning your language. I don't want entire groups of Israelis to speak in English (as they will) just for my sake, I'm the idiot, not all you bilingual people. I am trying and learning, but it is a slow process and one that will likely drive me crazy for quite some time to come.

But Maddie, why call your blog post "There is Only One Language that Matters?" Well, my observant and somewhat impatient reader, I will tell you...I just had to get that off my chest. The only language that matters is the language of passion. And I do not mean love, I mean passion. I mean a burning desire for something, for some goal, something that you cannot stop caring about, try though you may (though you wont). There is an understanding that exists betw
een people who have the same passions, and this is where we truly connect as people.

The Man from this past year, the best I've seen. Taken from google
from an article that probably stole it. 

Burners. Burners are great. They are fucking crazy. All year long they dream of a magical place they may or may not have ever been to, and in their yearning create many spaces and opportunities that try to evoke that ethereal feeling that Burning Man provides. They have different reasons for wanting to be there, but there are all united by one idea, that they actually WANT to be there...out in the dust, in the sun and in the wind, surrounded by people or lonely in the deeps, living in tents or RV's or a new shade structure every day. They scrimp and save, they smell and ache, they inflict countless dangers upon themselves from drugs to fire to dust storms to outrageous safety issues...but they all want it. And no matter where they are from, they are all connected.

This past weekend I was lucky enough to attend a burner Purim party. I knew I would love the party because....well....my people would be there. I knew a few people, not many, but I wasn't worried. After all, we're all part of the same tribe. Sure enough I was soon wrapped in conversations of fire and art and inappropriate sexual innuendo. There's a flirting and closeness that exists within this world that is hard to find elsewhere. It was so nice to know I could relax and be myself without some Israeli boy thinking that obviously I must want to fuck him because I am talking crudely. Everyone was there - the impossibly beautiful girl who never stops dancing, the couple that never leaves each other's side, the photographers who smile silently and create excitement just by giving the exhibitionists what they want, the guy puking quietly in the trashcan and thinking no one saw (and returning to drinking), the overworked and finally able to relax (a little) party organizers, the people fixing and then dancing on the stripper pole, the smokers who never leave the outside deck, the person who is too obsessed with their prop, the people who took too much and pass out too quickly, the inexplicable increase in volume of pounding dubstep at 5 am when there is no one left dancing in the room - only sleepers...it was all so familiar. It was all so right. It was such a thrill to have my suspicions confirmed - of course these are the people that will grow to be my friends, we are cut from the same cloth.

Backstage in high school for A Chorus Line,
which would end up being a very important
production for me. That'e me on the far left. 

Before I found burners I still had a tribe, I was always and will always be a thespian. Yesterday I was finally working at a theatre painting costumes (that's right, painting...the designer I work for is so damn cool) while the show was in dress rehearsal. Again I had that wonderful feeling of being at home. Sure, it was a bit nerve-wracking - anyone who has ever been in theatre can tell you what a tight, close-knit group the production becomes by the time actors are in dressing rooms and to be new to the cast AND not be able to speak the language is incredibly intimidating. I was working outside, so I met many of the actors, because of course almost all of them smoke. Again I saw the types I know so well parade in front of me. The actor who sings every other sentence, making sure she drowns out others, the actor who is a prima donna and demands his way, the actor that flirts with EVERYONE, the older actors who sigh and shake their head, the one who is always "on," the stage manager with a constant look of worry on her face, the stage hands who chain smoke and laugh at any sign of stress, the actors who will not eat the provided sandwiches, but their own super healthy low-cal salads, the people who "shh" from the wings and of course my boss, the talented perfectionist who is going to have his way, dammit. It felt so good to be there, even if I couldn't understand most of what was being said. The words are less important, I know these people, and they know me.

Everyone deserves to find their people. If this all sounds foreign to you I urge you to get out there and find your tribe. You are lucky enough to have the internet. Use it. For me, my love of beauty and art and the worship of creativity alongside a love of bawdy and inappropriate humor has led me to the burners. For you, it may be something different. Maybe you love eating rare cheeses, or playing badminton, or 18th century poetry. Maybe it's animal rescue, or exquisite vegan food or belly dancing. Maybe you don't like people that much, that's ok...there are other people like you and everyone needs someone some time. You still have a passion, and your other lone wolves do to. Find them. Maybe you don't love anything at all, chances are you are still passionate, just about something else, like hate. The Tea Party is a great example of people finding each other, they are all united in their passion for hating Obama. You think the KKK demands they get to meet just because they're defending the First Amendment? These are their buddies, their brothers! They want to hang out with like-minded bigots. Their people might suck (in my opinion) but they found each other for a reason. Find your tribe. It's the greatest feeling to know you are not the only one.

I consider myself a burner and an thespian far before I consider myself an American, a Jew, or even a woman. The latter are simply what I was born with, the former I chose and made for myself and that is what truly matters. I know I will always be seen as a woman before anything else and as an American after that, but I try to surround myself with people who will see me as something different, as someone like themselves. I understand these languages, those of the theatre and of burners. I don't need Hebrew to communicate (she says, fully taking advantage of the fact that they all speak English) I just need to be of the same ilk. And I am. We understand each other on a basic level, because we understand at least a little of what drives each other, and not only do we understand, we respect. We respect that the other works so hard to achieve something that very few realize the importance of.

Find your tribe. Life is so much better when you are invigorated by those who understand you. And if you've found your tribe, take care of them. Love them, visit them, connect with them. They are for you as you are for them, and don't ever forget how special that is.

Why I Moved to Israel: Part III or The Religiosity of Costume

I first heard the word "religiosity" in an essay titled "The Religiosity of Theatre," I can't for the life of me find it, or recall who it was by (a famous playwright I believe) but it hit me hard when I read it. It explains what so many of us creative types feel and why so many of us cannot stop doing what we love and choose to suffer with menial pay and terrifyingly unstable careers. Most people in theatre (I'm going to continue to use theatre as my example, but I am sure this extends to most artists, be they musicians, poets, painters etc.) know the adage "If you can do anything else - do it," because the business is so hard on every aspect of your life and very, very few actually succeed. Yet year after year schools churn out theatre majors who have all decided making their art is the only thing they can do. Why? Religiosity. There is a mystical faith and belief in the theatre, an ethereal presence of something bigger than any of the people involved. We dedicate endless hours, invest our emotions and sacrifice all other aspects of our life just to feel that magic moment when the house lights go down on opening night. A creative person is baring everything she has when she works on her project. It is different than filling out forms or dealing with customers or analyzing the stock market. Every part of her is used, and what she puts out is unique and from deep within...so when it fails, she fails - it's not that she did something wrong, it is that she is wrong. But when she succeeds, no one else can know her joy. She has touched something perfect that only she can touch. It is magic, it is spiritual, it is God. The only house of prayer that has ever felt right to me is the theatre. It doesn't have to be fancy, it doesn't need to have a stage, all it needs is a performer and someone to perform for - it is in the space between those two that the ethereal is felt and the magic is created.

If this picture doesn't perfectly represent me,
I don't know what does. 

So...why costumes then? Why not acting or directing or sound design? Truth be told, I love all of these elements, and would probably be happy doing any of them (I've grown a distaste for acting, but I'm sure if I had a great director I would be more than happy to stand in the spotlight again) but nothing delights me as much costuming. Any actor will tell you what a difference it makes when you first put on your character's shoes. It changes you, it makes you one step closer to truly being someone else. But aside from the spiritual aspect of costuming...let's face it...I LOVE LOVE LOVE a spectacle! The bigger, the brighter, the shinier, the bolder, the better! Give me giant crinolines and and sequined bras, give me black lace bodysuits and and neon orange hair, give me hoop skirts and corsets and thigh-hi's and platforms...as an incredibly talented costumed friend of mine says "More is more."

My love of costumes didn't start with Burning Man, or theatre, it started when I was born. My parents have told me stories about my insistence on wearing costumes and fun dresses all the time. I never cared much for barbies, but I did have a massive dress-up trunk...why dress a doll when I could be the fabulous one myself? To this day I will take any excuse or occasion to either wear a costume or get gussied up to the nines. I am often over dressed. Take this picture above. My mom tells me that my grandma got me a new doll bed...so I made this. To quote her "I don't know what you were doing, and I have no idea why you have that thing on your head." Well, I know. I was making a dramatic ensemble for a momentous occasion! Of course I made a gala dress for such a great day. Note the audacious, revealing lines and the flair for the dramatic, not much has changed.

My Tube costume. My sister is wearing
my tutu, which those who have been to
the burn with me will recognize. 

I have always liked being original, and costumes have always been a great way to do that. The first original costume I recall making was for Halloween when I was quite young (probably around the time of this awesome gala dress). I didn't want to be something someone else would be, so I went as a Mother. I wore a long skirt and had a baby doll and put my hair in a wrap. There was a costume contest for the kids at my dad's work and I remember winning some kind of award. I couldn't understand why the adults all thought it was so hilarious and so cute...to me it made perfect sense to dress up as a mother for a costume, and I pulled it off well. I continued on this trend and always insisted on making new and original costumes. Halloween was always the most exciting day of the year, especially when I could go to school and show off how cool I thought I was. When living in London while 5 girls all came in as Princess Jasmine (with that ridiculous flesh colored spandex on the belly) I came as "the Tube," London's subway system. For real. I put a station on my head and wore all grey. What a strange child, indeed. After that, it wasn't fairies or witches or any old princess for me, it was Boudicca, the fierce redheaded warrior queen who led the Britons to fight (and lose) against the Romans. Why be anything less than a queen? Why dress up to be someone lame like Tinkerbell (seriously, go back and watch Peter Pan if you haven't seen it lately. What. A. Bitch.) when I could be someone with incredible strength and power?

Let's fast forward to college. Anyone who knew me then will recall me standing at the front door of our house and telling people they cant come in unless they had a costume. I took every excuse to make a party a theme party...just so I could make a costume. My favorite of these was the Stereotypical Assholes party, where everyone came as a stereotype. I thought it was a very clever theme. I went as a Jew and wore blue and white, stitched a magen david on my stomach, had gold horns and a tail and of course, bags of Jew gold around my neck and waist (this was just after the famous South Park episode). That was probably the first instance of my costumes being incredibly offensive and clever, which definitely became a trend in my costuming. Meanwhile, I was a theatre major focusing on directing. I did costume design for some of my plays but didn't think to actually go after costume design. I have never had much of a love for fashion (unless we're talking outrageous designers like Alexander McQueen and Jean-Paul Gaultier) or what's "in," so I didn't think I had the predilections needed to be a

One of my favorite costumes from Betty's
Summer Vacation, a show I directed at UCSD

costume designer. I also have never dressed that fashionably, and thought that was a prerequisite to be a costume designer. Eventually I realized a costume designer doesn't need to be focused on what is going on on the runways (aware, yes, but not obsessive), but rather understand the world and time of the play and make exceptional creative choices from that. By the end of my time in college I had taken all the costume design classes I could and assisted on a show...lamenting that I hadn't focused more time into something I so clearly love.

Then came Burning Man. Never in my life had I seen such a bevvy of exceptional costuming. People dressed as everything you can imagine and also what you have never even dreamed of. And even more than actual costumes (i.e. Pirate, Fox, Robot) was this new concept to me of "every day" wear that was simply more fabulous than real clothing. Instead of a skirt - a tutu and thigh-his, instead of heels - 7 inch platform boots, instead of a shirt - pasties that have googly eyes on them. At the burn a costume doesn't have to be someone or something else at all, it's still you, it's just you with complete freedom to wear any color or fabric or household item or sex toy you want. I was deeply inspired by what I saw there, and when I moved to NYC I immediately got involved with Kostume Kult, and there my life as a costume designer truly began.

Kostume Kult is an amazing theme camp at Burning Man that provides a very unique service. We bring thousands of donated costumes to the Playa and harass other burners (especially those who look boring) to wait in line, step into our dome and try on whatever they want. KK'ers who work in the dome help people to get out of their shell and try something new. Whatever they put on their body they can take, and in order to exit they must walk down a long catwalk and model their new look to all the people standing and dancing there. Why is this such a great gift? Take a man in cargo shorts who has never worn anything fun...convince him to wear a tight and sexy nurse costume and his whole day will be different. All of the sudden he has license to act however he wants, to try things he never would've tried. He has removed judgement from himself and given himself freedom. It is an incredible gift and I became a Kostume Kult diehard right away, because I, like them, have great faith and dedication to the wonder that is costuming.

Tutu Tuesday at Kostume Kult my first year with them. Everyone
showing off their new duds on the runway. Photo by David Katz

It is because of KK that I am a costume designer. Their costumes were so good (in addition to being at the burn, KK also throws costume parties on a nearly monthly basis) that I decided I needed to take a sewing class and step my game up. The events of KK and the NYC burner world also gave me the freedom explore new and hilarious costume choices such as The 69ing Swan, The Sexy Lorax and my all time favorite The Hannukah Bush. From there I interned for a latex designer and learned more skills and then finally landed (thanks to the help of a brilliant KK'er) a job as an assistant designer at the largest commercial costume company in the world. There I learned more and more every day thanks to a wonderful boss who treated me like her apprentice. I learned the basics of pattern making and drawing, and well as many, many skills in sewing and crafting. Unfortunately the job moved locations and I was let go after only a year.

I made the actual dragon costume first, and then made a sketch for my job.
The job ended before I could make a sample, but I was still proud of one of my first drawings.

So what does this have to do with Israel? I already mentioned going to Independence Hall and being greatly moved by a speaker during birthright. Right after that speech we were taken to a building where we were given a pitch about returning to Israel for a 5 month internship. The presentation itself was rather ridiculous, but I asked if they had anything for a costume designer. They did. So I'm here. I am in a different internship than the one I had planned for, but this one is even better. I am working side by side with two incredibly talented people who I'm sure will teach me a great deal. I have only had 5 days of work, but have already learned new skills. I can't possibly express how wonderful it is to be sewing and gluing and ironing and cutting and pinning again. The hardest part about traveling as long as I did (since losing my job) was that I was away from all my materials. No sewing machine, no spandex, no feathers, no jewels. I missed making. It feels exquisite to be back at it again. And to add icing to the cake...

Next weekend is Purim!!! It's like Halloween except only Jews celebrate it. Traditionally people dress as the characters in the Book of Esther, children boo and use noisemakers when they hear Hamen's name and the adults get waaaasted. Seriously. If you live in NYC go to one of the Hasidic neighborhoods next weekend...you will see what I mean. Hammered. As a child I dressed up as Esther often, though my true claim to fame was playing Hamen in the silly musical we did in temple where I sang "You've got to pray to the I-D-O-L" to the tune of "YMCA." But Purim in Israel has become something quite different. Like Halloween, all of the meaning and religion has been pretty much taken out of it in order to make room for slutty costumes. I'm very excited.

So there it is. This is the end to my three part series about why I moved to Israel. From now on I will blog about whatever comes to mind as I settle into this country.

If you'd like to see the bulk of my costumes, including the ones I've mentioned you can find them here.

For now I'll just leave you with another adorable Baby Maddie picture, all dressed up for St. Patrick's Day.