The term “Danse Macabre” (Dance of Death) was coined in the years 1424–25 and refers to a medieval artistic current that points to the universality of death, which unites all, emphasizes the fragility of life, and undermines any aspiration for earthly glory. It touches upon the Christian expression “Memento Mori” (“Remember you will die”), which is associated with a genre of art meant to remind the viewer that they are not immortal, with all that this entails.

The artists participating in this exhibition, like many before them, address in their work themes of decay, damage to the body’s surface, and morbidity—each in their own unique way—confronting the viewer with that which is most difficult, and often also most compelling. Sometimes they do so bluntly and directly, sometimes through suggestion. They accomplish this through works that appeal to the viewer’s emotions.

The British neuroscientist Prof. Semir Zeki, in his writings on neuroaesthetics (the study of the connection between neurobiology and artistic creation), wrote: “the artist is in a sense, a neuroscientist, exploring the potentials and capacities of the brain, though with different tools. How such creations can arouse aesthetic experiences can only be fully understood in neural terms. Such an understanding is now well within our reach.” Through the works in this exhibition, we attempt to examine this idea as well.

The artist Eran Gilat, like the painter Shirley Faktor, connects in his work to the world of tissues and the animal kingdom, tying the viewer to what he calls the “animal reminder,” a term coined by the American psychologist Prof. Paul Rozin. In his scholarly article on the “realm of disgust,” Rozin explains that imagery from the animal world confronts us with the reality of our biological origin, and from this, the realization that we are often unpredictable, physically vulnerable, and at times hygienically compromised. We fear recognizing the animal within us, as it emphasizes that, like animals, we too are mortal.

Sianne Ngai, in her book “Ugly Feelings,” writes that artists and philosophers have pointed in the past to an immanent connection between repulsion and desire. What repels is often fascinating and attractive, especially in contexts of taboo and prohibition. Art has the power to beautify the base.

In his series “Life Sciences,” Eran Gilat combines organic tissues with various paraphernalia—some belonging, some not—creating on the one hand a kind of scientific preparation, and on the other a vague aesthetic atmosphere. He touches on the Vanitas tradition of Flemish-Dutch art from the 16th and 17th centuries. His work evokes reflections on the nature of scientific research, on the transience of life and its decay, as in the verse from Psalms 103:15: “As for man, his days are like grass; he flourishes like a flower of the field.”

Artist Shirley Faktor, in her realistic and concrete paintings from the portfolio “A Matter of Spirit,” presents tissues from both the plant world (Rose 2012.5) and the human, living world (Hands 2, 2010). The rose petals in her works move between the vital and lustful dance of life and periods of decay, offering a wide range across the life cycle—from the vigorous, charismatic, and dominant to the exhausted, perishable, and disappearing. The phrase “I brought you roses” hints that the intentions may be kind now, but all is transient. Her series of highly detailed, concrete hands serves as physiological evidence of the process of erosion—like counting rings in the trunk of a strong tree destined to be felled once its time has come.

Sculptor Mira Maylor, in her work, engages with the transformations of body and spirit, emphasizing the well-known phenomenon of lability—the unexpected swing from wholeness and safety to turbulence and danger. She does this with precision through three-dimensional objects that illustrate both the deadly potential of time’s passage and the need to express gratitude for the good and secure days. Reinforcing these sensations is the use of fragile glass, which is dominant in her work, often juxtaposed with durable materials that radiate fear, amplifying the sense of imminent disaster. The skull, in homage to the “Memento Mori” of Damien Hirst and others, tells the tale of the Roman general returning from battle, hailed as a hero, while behind him a slave whispers: perhaps today you are at your peak, but tomorrow is another day—you are only a mortal man. “Respice post te! Hominem te memento!” — look behind you, remember you are only human. The blood-reddened fingernails in her piece, sharp as razors, threatening yet tinged with erotic vitality, suggest that there is still room for enjoyment and vitality. Mortality can wait.

Artist Sigalit Landau, in her work “Gdansk, 2011,” documents the remarkable journey of salt-covered shoes, first submerged in our own Dead Sea—the sea of death—and then placed by her in Poland, in a freshwater lake in Gdansk. She records their gradual sinking into the depths of Polish waters, laden with history. Her work subtly marks collective memory of pain, engaging with themes of loss, sometimes the result of “flawed humanity,” and reflecting the violent destruction of darker times.

Painter Rani Pardes, in his semi-surrealistic works, joins forces with supernatural figures and hybrid quasi-humanoid beings. Armored and shielded, their bodies appear immune to harm, evoking a sense of eternity. Through his works, Rani confronts us with the opposite—darkness, mortality, and the inevitable. Like other artists in the exhibition, he works through the concept of the “superstimulus,” a term coined by the American neurologist Prof. Vilayanur Ramachandran, who explored the intersection between brain science and art. According to him, the artist deeply understands the human brain and, through sensory overload, appeals to the limbic system—the primal brain responsible for emotions—via the realms of transformation, fear, and anxiety. He notes that certain visual contents, which he classifies as “superstimuli,” can trigger intense experiences, curiosity, and disturbance in the viewer.

In conclusion, philosopher Shelly Kagan, in his book “Death” (2012), notes that human beings possess a basic awareness they cannot escape: I will not survive forever. From this awareness arise essential philosophical questions about the finality of death. Are we merely material? Is fear of death legitimate? How can I live with the difficult knowledge of life’s temporality?

Similarly, the philosopher Ernest Becker, in his book “The Denial of Death” (1973), addressed this problem and presented the theory that human beings defend themselves against death by repressing it through what he called the “dual nature of human existence.” That is, we are not just material beings, but also possess an “eternal” component through our heroic acts in this world. Becker feared that religion and faith, in an era of science and rationality, may struggle to provide all the answers. Therefore, he viewed human creation and achievement as a partial remedy to the crisis of physical extinction. Through his actions in the world, a person may achieve symbolic immortality, thus granting themselves a form of eternity.

The works included in this exhibition grapple with this “crisis of extinction,” each artist in their own way, often through an engaging and provocative presentation. They speak with the viewer about decay and loss, as if to say: our presence and physical wholeness on this earth are temporary—they are not eternal. But we are still here, and for now, we can choose to derive meaning and even enjoyment from the spectacle. Do it.