Dear friends,
It’s an honor to open this exhibition today—an outcome of 14 months of creative “pregnancy.” Like any birth, it arrives with new hope. Thank you for being here. With your presence, you help shape that hope. You give voice to something greater: a belief in a better future—so urgently needed in a time of pain and polarization. My wish is that this voice echoes beyond these walls and reaches those in Gaza and in Israel who need it most.
My name is Vered Raz. Over the past 14 months, I’ve been in contact with individuals in Gaza. Together, we’ve shared our pain—grieving the loss of loved ones on both sides of a long-standing conflict. Pain like this isn’t measured in numbers and shouldn’t be compared. But our pain isn’t just trauma—it can be a foundation for empathy and understanding, beyond borders.
We share an urgent need to listen, to speak, and to cooperate. How does it work?—ask me later. But I can tell you this: in our connection, we’ve found strength, even in the darkest moments.
Ten months ago, people in the Netherlands, Israel, and Gaza joined us, and slowly an initiative began to take shape. Not long after, we spent a weekend together in Amsterdam with Gazans who were able to travel. That gathering became the first building stone for this exhibition.
This exhibition tells the story of two teachers: Marwa, who lives in Gaza, and Adeel, who lives just across the border in Israel. Both work with young children in primary schools. Marwa, a chemist and mother of four, saw her path disrupted by the devastating war. Adeel, an energetic Israeli-Palestinian—yes, that identity exists!—is an artist and educator at a bilingual school. Despite their different realities, they share a common hope—for a future built together.
That hope comes to life in the children’s drawings you see here. The artworks aren’t labeled by age or origin—one third are from Gaza, one third from Israeli-Palestinian children, and one third from Jewish-Israeli children. As you walk through the exhibition, you’ll see for yourself that labels aren’t necessary. The messages in the drawings speak a shared language, regardless of geography or socioeconomic background.
Each drawing is paired with a text written by someone who was moved by it—people from different countries, ages, and walks of life. These reflections invite you to listen, to feel, to reflect—and to begin a conversation.
As with every birth, this exhibition was made possible by real teamwork. GazEl4Peace, Stichting Rainbow, Tamar Kurzer, and Erga Netz brought this project to life under nearly impossible conditions and timelines. Gary , thank you for opening your space and sharing in this hope.
Last but not least – a special thankful word for my partner and my kids – I am aware that I have been less of a mother or partner, and at times you feel that the Gazans are more important. I appreciate your support and your presence here today.
To you all attending today: thank you for being here. Help us carry this message forward. If you’re able, please consider supporting us in bringing future exhibitions to life.
You’re warmly invited to share your own text in the booklet on the piano.
We hope this exhibition plants a seed of a more hopeful future, one that might begin right here, today.
