The Friday arts diary

Our cultural picks for the week ahead.

Design

Valentino: Master of Couture, Somerset House, London WC2, 29 November 2012 – 3 March 2013

Recently described by Decca Aitkenhead as looking like "a mafia boss who has been confined under a sunbed for the past 20 years, then dressed as an Edwardian dandy", Valentino is arguably most iconic fashion designer of the last century. Somerset House is currently showing 130 of his most delightfully impractical creations in a retrospective exhibition. If you’re able to screen out the sycophantic fawning over "the life of the master" which constitutes the first part of the show, it’s worth persevering for the chance to admire close-up the hand-stitched masterpiece that is Princess Marie Chantal of Greece’s wedding dress. This Saturday there is also a screening of the outstanding Storyville documentary Valentino: The Last Emperor– indispensible for anyone seeking to properly appreciate the craftsmanship of the clothes and the eccentricity of their designer. Best of all, this show offers all the guilty pleasure you get from flicking through the latest issue of Vogue, with the smug satisfaction that what you’re looking at is culturally credible. Hey, it’s in an art gallery, after all.

Music

Sharon Van Etten,  Shepherds Bush Empire, London W12, 3 December

Yes, we're just as sick of hearing about trendy new "Brooklyn-based singer-songwriters" as you are, but Sharon Von Etten, though she resides in the aforementioned New York borough, is a cut above your average hipster. Her 2012 album Tramp has slowly but steadily been gaining international acclaim, and she has developed a near-fanatical following for her hauntingly mournful music. This show at the Shepherds Bush Empire is the only chance to catch her in the UK this year, so grab tickets while you still can.

Film

Nordic Film Festival, various locations, London, until 5 December

Nordic television has swept these shores and it seems film-makers want a slice of their success with the first Nordic film festival in the UK. A range of independent films from Finland, Denmark, Iceland, Norway and Sweden will be shown. Tonight’s opening film is Love is all you need at the Ciné Lumière. The Danish feature film is a romantic comedy and was part of the official festival selections at the Venice Film Festival 2012 and Toronto International Film Festival 2012

Theatre

A Clockwork Orange, Soho Theatre, London W!, until 5 January 2013

This all-male adaptation of Anthony Burgess’s controversial dystopian novel has been widely praised. Alexandra Spencer-Jones’s testosterone-filled production has Martin McCreadie take on the role of Alex, the charismatic yet terrifying young man hellbent on enjoying some "ultraviolence" with his friends.

Set in Manchester the play seems apt following the riots, according to the Independent review, and the fury and anger unleashed by the characters is not too dissimilar from the scenes we saw in August 2011, only violence in this ‘horrorshow’ is directed at citizens of the same society.

Art

Antony Gormley, White Cube, Bermondsey,London SE1, 28 November - 10 February 2013

Antony Gormley claims that his latest exhibition has been three decades in the conception. The artist who brought us the Angel of the North has never lacked ambition, so we shouldn't be be surprised to discover that what he has created this time is a cross between an art work and a climbing frame.

Gormley has filled Britain’s biggest commercial space – the White Cube Bermondsey - with an overwhelming maze-like sculpture, created from more than 100 tonnes of steel welded together. Viewers are invited to walk, climb, crawl through it -  “whatever they want really,” the artist saqys airily. 

Valentino with model Natalia Vodianova (Photo by Pascal Le Segretain/Getty Images)
ROBERTO SCHMIDT/AFP/Getty Images
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Unlikely sisters in the Gaza Strip

A former Jewish settler in Gaza recalls her childhood friendship with a young Palestinian.

It was well after midnight, one summer night in 1995, when Inbar Rozy, a 13-year-old living in the former Israeli settlement of Alei Sinai in the northern Gaza Strip, heard her parents answer the phone. Sitting up in bed, surrounded by potted plants, candles and fairy dolls lit by shafts of light from a nearby security outpost, Inbar listened closely.

“I could hear everyone talking around me, making calls,” Inbar said when we met recently in Nitzan, southern Israel. When she got up to find out what was happening, her parents told her to make up a second mattress. As dawn broke, they led into the room a young woman carrying a small bag and wearing a black shirt and jeans. “She had shoulder-length dark hair dyed with red henna and beautiful eyes – big, black with thick eyelashes,” Inbar told me, smiling. “[She was] quiet. She looked scared.”

The woman was Rina (her surname cannot be given for security reasons), a talented artist in her early twenties studying at a local art college, where she had fallen in love with a Christian boy. For Rina, coming from a traditional family, marrying a non-Muslim would be strictly forbidden.

When her parents found out, they were furious and forbade her from seeing her boyfriend. But her male cousins felt this wasn’t enough. Earlier on the day the girls first met, Rina’s cousins had attempted to kill her in retribution for her perceived “honour crime”. Seeing that another attempt on her life was likely, Rina’s father called a relative, who in turn called Inbar’s father, Yossef, a friend of many years. There was no doubt she had to leave. Ironically, a Jewish settlement protected by the Israel Defence Forces was the safest place in Gaza for her to be.

In 1967, Israel seized the Gaza Strip from Egypt during the Six Day War. In time, it settled 21 communities on a third of the land, with a population of 8,000 by 2005. Soldiers guarded the settlements from 1.5 million displaced Palestinians, tens of thousands of whom were displaced in 1967 and moved to live in nearby refugee camps. In Gaza, before Israel’s ultimate withdrawal from the Strip in 2005, relationships between Israeli settlers and Palestinians were fraught. True, many Palestinians worked in Israeli settlements, earning wages higher than elsewhere in the Strip, but the two communities lived largely separate lives.

In the mid-1990s, even after the Oslo Accords, violence was simmering. Israeli military incursions increased with the outbreak of the Second Intifada in 2000. Thousands of home-made Qassam rockets were launched by Palestinian militants at settlers and those living in southern Israel. Security measures hardened. The veteran Israeli journalist Amira Hass, who spent several years living in Gaza, describes neighbourhoods that were “turned into jails behind barbed-wire fences, closed gates, IDF surveillance, tanks and entry-permit red tape”.

And yet, in spite of the forced segregation, Inbar’s family enjoyed close links with their Palestinian neighbours. Inbar’s father worked as an ambulance driver, and on several occasions he helped transport those who lived nearby for emergency medical treatment in Israel. “Every Tuesday, my father’s Jewish and Arab friends would come to our house and we’d eat lunch together,” Inbar remembered.

Given the gravity of Rina’s situation, she couldn’t leave the house. Secrecy was paramount. The girls spent weeks together indoors, Inbar said, chatting, watching TV and drawing. “I’m not sure that as a child I actually understood it for real,” she said. “She taught me how to paint and sketch a face from sight.”

Almost as soon as Rina arrived, Inbar’s family began receiving anonymous phone calls asking about her. “My dad told me, ‘Don’t mention anything about Rina. Say you don’t know what they’re talking about – because otherwise they’ll come and kill us,’” Inbar said.

While the girls got to know each other, Inbar’s mother, Brigitte, found a women’s shelter in East Jerusalem for Rina. Whereas today Gaza is closed off by a military border under heavy surveillance, at that time it was porous. Brigitte drove Rina in to the capital, where she was given a new name and identity that would enable her to begin a new life, on condition that she contact no one in Gaza.

Today Inbar, who is 33, works at the Gush Katif centre in Nitzan – a museum dedicated to the memory of the Israeli settlements in Gaza. Despite her parents’ objections, the family was evacuated in 2005. Unlike most settlers in Gaza, some residents of Alei Sinai were determined to stay on, even if that meant forfeiting their Israeli citizenship. “I have no problem with living as a minority in a Palestinian state,” one of Alei Sinai’s inhabitants, Avi Farhan, told the Israeli daily Haaretz at the time.

Inbar now lives in Ashkelon, a city of 140,000 in southern Israel, and finds the big city alienating, especially when she recalls the warm relationships that once existed in Gaza. “I’ve never felt less secure,” she told me.

Years later, she learned that Rina had developed cancer and died. “The day before Rina left . . . she drew a portrait of me,” she said, describing how her friend had outlined, in charcoal strokes, the features of the teenager. Her parents packed the portrait with all their belongings in a shipping container the day they left Gaza. Soon after, the container was destroyed in a fire.

“I think if people had given it a chance . . . they would have had these kinds of friendships,” Inbar said, looking back. “We’d get along fairly well if we didn’t look at others as the monsters over the wall.” 

This article first appeared in the 27 August 2015 issue of the New Statesman, Isis and the new barbarism