After a long slumber, the **Tungsten Club** awakens for one brief, preordained episode. Tungsten (a club for art, culture, body, and leisure) is hosted by Binyamin Gallery, and in turn hosts 28 exclusive artists, carefully selected by Karin Mandelovich, the exhibition curator and the club’s artistic director.

During the opening, two performances will take place starting at 21:00:  

- **Ori Levinson** and **Adia Gudlevsky** with their piece *Surround*  

- **Michal Schreiber** with the performance *Sketching*.

In *Surround*, Gudlevsky plays well-known, pleasant classical pieces on the harp in an open space, while Levinson gradually closes off her environment, dictating a shifting musical and visual atmosphere.  

In *Sketching*, Schreiber writes and blocks words across the body as a canvas—some moments visible, others disappearing. Viewers can whisper or contribute words. A spectator with a good memory might, perhaps, glimpse a story.

**The Exhibition**  

*Open Closed Open* presents an open-closed-open list: photographs, paintings, drawings, videos, objects, mobiles, and collages from the past five years.  

An unidentified pink creature stands against mountain scenery; a sliver of an aluminum door adorned with a chain; on a clear day, the Messiah might be seen too.  

There are bleeding watercolors; an organic magazine collage sprawling across a door; David’s colorful-bearded profile—like a contrabass jam session.

Through the window: a skeleton, a snail, "Mother Russia" writing a farewell letter, and her daughter’s snow globe collection.  

At a decisive moment, the speaker covers his face with his hands and is left speechless.  

Blurred touch, intimacy, tenderness, tension, and pain intermingle.  

A mature woman looks back and sees: a golden cage—half-open, half-closed.  

She asks: “Where did the key go?”

A middle-aged man and a young woman approach—withdraw—approach—withdraw.  

On the horizon: a wall painting inspired by five absent-present images, facing a vitrine covered with signs.  

After every action, a residue remains:  

A random, meticulous moment where a rooster is trapped between two cats and a loyal moon, unwilling to wait for its reflection in the pond, creates a positive-negative between two coat hangers.

Meanwhile, a man and woman frame the trapped space between them.  

He captures a monster inside a frame, swims within it, opens it, dismantles it, replaces it with another, and closes it again—recycling it endlessly.  

Consciousness is quiet now.  

If the circle had been open, it would no longer be a circle.  

A tangled web of parallel lines, vertical lines, intersecting lines, scribbles on paper.  

A cycle.

By day's end, she confesses her secrets—and we cannot hear.  

Doors open, close, open, lock, revolve: yes and no, black and white.  

Luckily, there are lockers for safekeeping. (K.M.)

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At the heart of the exhibition resonates **Yehuda Amichai’s poem**, *Open Closed Open*:

> **A drawer closes — the sound of God,  

> A drawer opens — the sound of love,  

> But it could be the other way around.  

> Footsteps approaching — the sound of love,  

> Footsteps retreating — the sound of God who has left the earth, suddenly, temporarily forever.  

> A book left open on a table with glasses beside it — God,  

> A book closed with a lamp left burning — love.  

> A key turning silently in the door — God,  

> A key hesitating — love and hope.  

> But it could be the other way around.  

> A sacrifice of pleasant smell to God,  

> A sacrifice of the other senses to love:  

> A sacrifice of touch and caress,  

> A sacrifice of sight and hearing,  

> A sacrifice of taste.  

> But it could be the other way around.*  

(*Yehuda Amichai, "Open Closed Open", from the section “Gods Change, Prayers Remain Forever”, pp. 16–17, Schocken Publishing House*)