Life, Art and War: Inside the Mautner Family Journey in Ramat HaSharon
The Mautner family from Ramat HaSharon shares their life before and during the war, discussing art, community projects in Lod, and embracing change.
What do we do with the overdraft, how much do we pay for the apartment, and what dream came true in the shadow of the war? People from all over the country share an open look at life itself, before and in the shadow of the war. This time: the Mautner family, Ramat HaSharon. In the photo: Itay (52), Ayelet (39), Ayala (14), Zohar (11), Maayan (two and a half years old).
Ramat HaSharon? Itay: "My ex-wife and I lived in Jaffa all those years, but shortly before COVID we separated, and she wanted to leave Jaffa. I wanted to live close to the kids, and we looked everywhere. We came here because her family is here. For me, leaving Tel Aviv felt like doomsday. I don't think I had ever been to Ramat HaSharon before; I didn't know it. I rented a house here, and before coming to see the apartment, I measured my furniture in Jaffa to check if it would fit. When I walked into the house in Ramat HaSharon, I didn't even need to take out the list. It was obvious it would fit. This is the biggest house I've ever lived in. After six years, I'm starting to discover the magic of this place."
How did you meet? Ayelet: "I lived in Ein Karem when Itay and I met. I moved to Jerusalem for love. Actually, Itay was at our wedding because we worked together at the 'Mekudeshet' festival in Jerusalem. Itay founded the festival, and I was the producer. When he split up and I split up, our professional connection turned into something else. I actually wanted to build a house in Carmei Yosef and already had ready plans, and there was a moment I had to choose—Itay or the house. So, just like freezing eggs, I froze the house plans."
Art, Culture, and Lod
Ayelet, what do you do? "After a hard drought period, I work with an organization called 'Zumu', which is a traveling museum across the country. Every time we arrive somewhere else and bring art to the public. We've already been in Yeruham, Nahariya, Hatzor HaGlilit, Arad, and other places. Now we are in Lod, trying to establish a permanent home for Zumu that will allow for a deeper process. I am leading the project."
Ayelet on Lod: "It's a tough city, somewhere between despair and hope. Even when we feel we've cracked something and made an amazing process, we take three steps back again. It's true that many people there aren't looking for art, but maybe because they don't know it. That's why I think it's important to bring them something inaccessible to them, so at least they get to know it. I live by the belief that even if I do something small, it will make a change and do something big for the city."
Does it stand a chance? Itay: "I also deal with art, and I think the moment art steps out of the ivory tower and doesn't just attract the same crowd it always does, something very interesting happens. Everyone I know has had a moment where a song, photograph, painting, or performance moved them. Why should that be kept only for one group that was educated and funneled to consume culture? Why shouldn't it reach everyone? I grew up in a very Ashkenazi home where we were raised on museums and the Israel Festival, and there was a time I was involved in Jerusalem's nightlife. Then I rolled into the whole culture business. I believe we need to break this 'us and them' thing."
Breaking the Mold
Itay: "I studied in a fully integrated school, and it kind of saved my life because it brought me into daily dialogue with layers of society that weren't part of what I grew up with. In fifth grade, they started talking about ethnic backgrounds and asked me, 'What ethnicity are you?' and I didn't know. When I asked my father, he told me we were Yemenites. Until he corrected it, I walked around for months with a full Yemenite identity. Absolutely real. There is an original sin in the cultural world regarding how we speak and write, and a bit of condescension. I want to speak to tens and hundreds of thousands of people. It doesn't belong to me or my tribe—because there is really no such thing, as we are all layered and connected to one another."
What do you do? Itay: "For the past five years, I managed the Israel Festival, and we dealt deeply with the war. Those were hard years, and I decided to take a step back. I do much less today, running an event called 'PechaKucha' and facilitating think tanks and events, but I am much more at home on a journey to practice not knowing for a while, to see what will be and what comes next. It's a bit stressful sometimes because it goes against instinct, but I know it will be fine. The kids barely saw me when I was at the Israel Festival."
Ayelet: "I benefit from it too. I'm a decade younger than him and get all the insights of a decade later."
PechaKucha? Itay: "It was born in Japan as a one-time evening where they wanted to bring artists from various fields. To keep them from rambling, they limited them to 6 minutes and 40 seconds. It caught on, and today it exists in 1,500 cities worldwide, with Tel Aviv being the biggest of all. Ten thousand people sold out all the tickets in two hours for an event happening in a week and a half. Anat Safran brought it here, and she approached me because she had stage fright. Since then, I'm with her and we do it together. I constantly have a list of candidates on my phone and I'm always searching."
Economic situation? Itay: "I've supported myself since I was 17 and know it will be fine. Financial anxiety is just more accessible than other anxieties, so people fall into it. I'm not being hypocritical, I have a good standard of living, I own an apartment in Tel Aviv that I bought many years ago, and Ayelet works. I'm not embarking on some irresponsible spiritual journey."
Ayelet: "I trust him completely. I look at him and know that whatever he does next will be something cool."
