Concertinas

Ten years ago exactly, in the spring of 2016, I photographed a cluster of Negev irises in the fields of Nir Yitzhak, near the Gaza Strip, beneath the concertina coils of a barbed wire fence.

I wrote a dialogue then, between a man and a woman:

If I keep you inside,

will you be safe?

Will I be safe?

You can find this dialogue and others like it in my “Iris to Iris” gallery.

Seven and a half years later, in the autumn of 2023 — the events of October 7th — and kibbutz Nir Yitzhak was among the communities that were struck hard. I came to visit the irises in the spring of 2024, and the army informed me that the area was still at risk, and showed me the way out. I managed to see only the edges of the field — a little iris bloom, a little growth.

I came again a year later, in the spring of 2025, after an exceptionally harsh, scorched year, and the field was parched as I had never seen it.

I received an answer to the questions I had asked back then. The answer was predictable, in the end — because the questions I asked were rhetorical, in my eyes. Only I hadn’t expected to receive it so quickly, and so bluntly.

Another year passed, and we are now in the spring of 2026 — after the sense of security offered by barbed wire fences, lockdowns, enclosures and walls has been shaken. I came again to visit the irises at Nir Yitzhak, this time after an exceptionally rainy winter.

The field was lush and green, with unusually tall growth, and I found clusters of Negev irises among the blooms. Fewer than before — some apparently gone — and also less proud. Usually the irises rise high and conspicuous above the annual plants around them. This time they were hidden beneath the canopy of the field’s growth.

And I returned to the concertina. The cluster of irises that once grew at its center will likely not return. But the concertina itself seems to be sending out a new rhizome of its own. Perhaps next year a new baby concertina will grow beside it — small and thorny. And I find myself wondering whether the iris field in the Gaza Envelope has offered me, in its own quiet way, a statement about global trends.