“He spoke about religious ritual and art – as expressions of human fears in the face of the incomprehensible.”
“I didn’t know you had a background in art history.”
“You asked, so I told.”
“Anything else you remember?”
“That ritual also serves as an escape from reality and gives the artist the power to change the face of the world,” I replied, trying to sound casual. Lily’s eyes widened.
“And what about God? Did he talk about God in art?”
“I remember him saying that God – both abstract and corporeal– forms a common denominator across cultures, even while taking different identities in different religions.”
“My man, I’m really surprised,” she said, hugging me.
“Me too.”
“I hope he agrees to come down to Eilat – you’ve made me want to meet him.”
“First get Ali’s green light. Then call him.”
“Do you think I should call, or go to the College of Art and Design?” Lily asked later, after she’d gotten Ali’s coveted approval to invite Dylan Rhodes. Yet again, I realized nothing could stand in her way.
“Call. He might not even be in the country.”
“But I’ll be up north this weekend.”
“Call. I know you – you’ll get excited and won’t be able to wait. I’m here beside you now.”
Lily picked up the phone and motioned for me to stand by her. I knew my presence steadied her.
“Hello, this is Lily Whitney. May I speak with Dylan Rhodes?” She smiled at me.
After a few seconds on hold, she continued.
“Hello, this is Lily – from the Art Workshop in Eilat. I’d like to invite you to join us on one of the upcoming weekends.”
She listened, nodding. I even saw a glint of a smile at the corner of her eye.
“Do you want to set a date?” she asked, and whispered proudly to me with her hand over the receiver, “He’s agreeing!” Then to him: “And what will you speak about? I want to announce your visit in our local paper,Eilat Weekly News.”
After a few more seconds of listening, she said, “So we’re set for the evening of January 19, on ‘American Pop Art.’”
“Yes!” she shouted, almost dropping the receiver.
I hugged her. A swell of pride rose in me. I thought she deserved more than a simple “Yes!”
“I’ll inform Ali, and we’ll draft the notice for the paper,” she said after hanging up.
January 19, 1978 – the late afternoon was relatively chilly for this hot city. We drove the yellow jeep we’d recently bought to the airport to meet Dylan Rhodes.
I recognized him easily. Though more than a decade had passed since I’d last seen him, he had barely changed. At his request, we drove him to the hotel – he wanted to rest.
We arranged to meet in the evening.
“Why are you so nervous?” I asked Lily as we went to pick Dylan Rhodes up for dinner. “You’ve already met him.”
“Because I don’t know how many people will show up tonight at the workshop.”
