The image of the boys and girls surrounding Lily on her way home burned into my memory. At that moment, I remembered Dr. Olivier’s question, the doctor I had replaced, who had wondered if we had children. The thought crossed my mind how wonderful it would be to see Lily with a child of our own.
Chapter 44
The Mayor
From the moment Rafael Nelson, a persona in Eilat’s cultural scene, became a student of “my teacher,” as he called her, the activity at the college and at the youth center gained tremendous momentum.
“What a difference one person can make,” I said to her.
Indeed, Rafael Nelson suggested to Ali the idea of moving the art workshops into one of the city’s abandoned buildings, so that the art program could really flourish. His presence at a meeting held sometime later at the municipality’s Department of Education, along with Lily’s speech on the importance of art at any age – accompanied by slides of her students’ work – convinced both the museum director and the mayor that Rafael’s idea, his vision, was worth pursuing.
And yet, like in any organized city, things in Eilat moved slowly. Countless conversations with different people followed, each one wanting to have a hand in the matter: the mayor, the head of the municipal education department, the museum director, and many others.
The members of the museum board were invited to what Lily called the “fateful meeting”: the museum director, who was supposed to allocate part of the museum for the project; the city architect; the head of the education department; as well as Rafael Nelson and Ali. Naturally, Lily was also invited, to present her ideas to anyone who hadn’t managed to read her proposal, which – true to form – had been sent out far too late. I called it procrastination; she said the last-minute pressure was what gave her life.
“Lily made a great impression on the mayor,” Ali told me whenI arrived, after my shift, at the end of the meeting. “Only one board member abstained – he opposes any initiative connected to the education department,” he added, a wide smile spreading across his face. Lily, already standing beside me, blushed. She wasn’t used to receiving such compliments, certainly not in front of others.
“You see?” I hugged her.
“I still can’t believe it, but I’ll be happier when it really takes shape.”
“So what’s the next step?”
“I’ll meet with the museum director and see what we can do. It’s possible the workshop won’t be there,” Ali said, his voice hesitant.
“So where would it be?” Lily asked.
Ali knew that using the museum for an art workshop would be very expensive, which might eventually spark opposition – even public protest.
“Rafael Nelson reminded me there’s a domed building in the city center that belongs to the municipality. He’s right. I think we can turn it into an art workshop.”
I was glad to hear that the building in question was fairly close to our apartment, and even more so that it was roughly on the same level of the hill, so Lily wouldn’t have to strain herself getting to and from the workshop.
Ali promised that starting the very next day, he would begin working toward converting the building into a workshop.
A few days later, the phone rang in our apartment. Lily answered, listening silently. On the other end was the editor ofEilat Weekly News, a long-established local weekly. Word about the art workshop had reached him, and he offered to interview her about it. In September 1977, the paper’s reporter interviewed Lily and Dan, a local artist who had joined her in setting up the workshop.
“Look,” Lily waved the issue in excitement, “they wrote about us!” Tears welled in her eyes.
Not long after, the announcement of work beginning in the ‘warehouse’– as the domed building was locally called – filled us with joy. From that moment on, the place was renamed “The Art Workshop.”
One of the inside pages of that same publication carried the official municipal notice under the headline:“The Art Workshop: We are pleased to inform the public of the establishment of an art workshop in Eilat. The workshop will operate in the domed building on Jerusalem Street, opposite the health clinic, and will offer courses for children, youth, and adults.”I read it aloud, and shared in Lily’s excitement.
The announcement went on to list the courses – drawing and painting, engraving, printmaking, and creative art – and even mentioned that Lily and Dan would split the teaching.
“What do you know about Dan?” I asked suspiciously.
“A local artist, very nice. They teamed him up with me. You’ll meet him soon,” she answered casually.
“Young, older?”
“Michael,” she called out to me, “are you jealous?”
I stayed silent. What could I do, admit the answer was yes?
The notice also stated:“Students of the workshop will be offered slide-lectures by the workshop instructors and guest lecturers.”That last part had been Lily’s idea. She knew that in such an official framework, she would have to invite as many guest lecturers as possible, to enrich the knowledge of Eilat residents who lived so far from the country’s cultural centers.
The excitement over establishing the workshop, and the chance it gave her to build close ties with artists north of Eilat, gave Lily boundless energy. She invested every moment in creating,building, collecting materials, purchasing, cleaning, painting, and organizing it.
