The exhibition invites viewers on an imaginary journey undertaken by Tali Navon, following in the footsteps of Wilfrid Israel through his travel journal in India, written in 1925, between the two world wars, just before he assumed management of the family department store. Drawn to Asian art, he sought to immerse himself in the spiritual worlds of Mahatma Gandhi and Rabindranath Tagore, lifelong inspirations for his commitment to non-violence.
For Navon, the diary excerpts became an inner map, guiding her toward realms of quietude long ready to expand, especially amid the turbulence of the present. Archival materials had already served her in the past as fertile ground for multidisciplinary artistic exploration in drawing, painting, video, and installation. Her ongoing engagement with these does not aim to reconstruct a specific figure or moment in time; rather, the materials of the past provide her with a living substance, a raw material—a way to trace states of mind and to inhabit another time.
Sometimes nicknamed "the invisible man," Wilfrid's portrait dissolves and emerges simultaneously in a painting still taking shape. His heart, left exposed on the canvas, beckons the viewer. Next to it, Navon created an archive that invites one to leaf through the folds of time and the pulses of memory.
The diary drew her inward, following Israel’s actual journey, resurrected a hundred years later. His powerful encounter with India began with the overwhelming sensory flood of a colorful, bustling world, ascending toward serenity and sanctity upon arriving at Shantiniketan, the ashram and home of the renowned poet-philosopher Rabindranath Tagore. These experiences were etched in Navon's mind, yet the images gradually freed themselves from words, like memories blurring as they recede from tangible sight. They set Navon on her own journey between the world's clamor and inner quiet.
In her paintings, figures in mid-journey walk across long sheets of paper; sometimes they draw close, sometimes drift apart, becoming abstract blots. They resemble musical notes resonating in the space, pulled as if by invisible threads towards an unknown vanishing point, from which their paths unfold again. Gradually, only the walk remains, and the question of nearing or withdrawing from the place to which the soul yearns loses meaning.
In a separate space, figures are depicted gathered in a circle, absorbed in meditation. At times they seem to float in a vibrating red space, as drips of paint extend aerial roots. Inspired by Shantiniketan, the abode of peace, they transpire in the world, yet remain untouched by its vain distractions, unbothered by its currents. It is a continuous moment outside time, an inner call to pause and let go.