How many Jews does it take to open an Iranian embassy?

Hamabul (the Great Flood) Art Collective aka "Iranian embassy"

How many Jews does it take to open an Iranian Embassy? Only one, if he uses his imagination.

After Israeli artist Pinkas Matan learned his family had roots in Iran, he was determined to help bring peace between the two nations. And what is the first sign of thaw between bitter enemies if not an embassy?

Matan is part of the Hamabul Art Collective. Composed of Israeli and international performance artists, academics and activists, the "Iranian Embassy in Jerusalem" is their schtick. Or perhaps they are as sincere as some of their announcements appear, such as this one:

We are a group of artists living and creating in Jerusalem, trying to create a new reality, one which we can identify with. A reality of dialogue between the people, not dominated by mass media and governments.

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In their Facebook post from Aug. 13, they put out a call for artists "from the fields of photography, sculpture, video, drawing, installation, performance and movement to explore and express personal artistic" statements about Iranian/Israeli relations.

It doesn't take long to realize the "embassy" is somewhere between an elaborate prank, long-term art performance and political statement. Embassy staff are entirely volunteer and the theatrical aspect is emphasized by their calls to "audition" for positions. In a nod to the fantasy aspect of the effort, icons of cats and cartoon characters issue policy statements.

Ignoring real-time war and politics, they act out an alternative reality using the arts. In the sense that all of Jerusalem in is immediate danger, the "Embassy" is also a psychological appeal to terrorists: Return to the civilized world of arts and letters which flourished in Persia for eons.

Hamabul pointedly contradicts itself, though, when they apologize to Iranians for "supporting the Shah" before the Revolution. "We made a mistake, we hurt you," they plead, as if they weren't aware his reign was a high point in Iranian human rights since about the time of Cyrus the Great (600 B.C.). Next Matan insists "we want to go back to how it used to be [while the Shah ruled], enjoying a shared culture and friendship." Huh?

Is it only reactionary, left-winged cussedness for Westerners (or Israelis) to apologize proactively every time they get it right?

Hamabul (aka the Iranian Embassy) seem intent on peace at any cost to ego and historical accuracy, and are following through to see where this could go. They are "establishing an embassy that will represent a culture, not a government." Their "ambassadors" intend on accepting these apologizes as surrogates and make their own proclamations as well, as if they were the real deal.

Israeli sources claim local citizens are split down the middle in their reactions. Half seem to think it's at least an intriguing idea or worth a shot. Considering the invective and blood in the streets is applauded if not financed by the Iranian regime, this is extremely gracious of them. Or utterly mad.

Other than being almost pathologically optimistic, Hamabul has a point. Before the venomous Ayatollahs, Israel and Iran enjoyed excellent relations. They even operated corporations, jointly selling each other oil and other commodities.

Pinkas Matan

Waving Iranian flags to grab attention in cities around Israel brought some angry reactions from people on the street. Haaretz describes people wanting to "burn that flag." A passerby was furious when told about the future "Iranian Embassy," claiming Matan is "a traitor to your country!" Some Israeli organizations drew the line at use of the term "Islamic Republic of Iran" and insist the "ambassadors" focus solely on Iran's culture.

Iranian-Israelis lend a hand in the "Embassy" where they feature Persian language, films, art, foods and music to show respect for Iranian cultural history. One of the co-curators, Shlomit Ganyan Yaacov, is an Israeli artist whose parents were born in Iran.

Yaacov described some of the political perils to The Art Newspaper. "As artists working in Israel we are well aware that everything in our art is political, even putting a work with no political statement in an exhibition about Iran in Israel is political."

Artists residing in Iran were invited to participate, but there are many obstacles for them. Possibilities run from professional ruin, harassment, imprisonment, charges of collaborating with Jews and death. Some Iranian participants protect themselves from retaliation by using stage names or pseudonyms. Opening events include video Skype calls to artists who can't travel from Iran or other Islamic strongholds.

Hamabul keeps things light, though, and doesn't refer either to the current violence or the regime in Tehran, at least not in a negative way. The venue travels some as a plastic and performance piece, but they are operating from a building in French Hill in Jerusalem.

Since Iran broke diplomatic relations with Israel after their 1979 revolution, they haven't recognized the existence of the Jewish state and see no reason to keep an embassy there. However, being a blank spot on their maps hasn't stopped a deluge of weapons, threats and rants against "nothing."

Artists and activists create a mock "Iranian embassy" in Jerusalem

Timing is challenging. Hamabul has been working on this for at least a year and had no way of knowing hell was coming to town about the time of their planned opening this fall. They've been able to pull off a few events, including a mock Embassy opening/art exhibit on Oct. 21.

While "The Embassy" geared up for business late this summer, a rival appeared in Tel Aviv. Overnight a towering, five-story banner across the face of a building trumpeted "Opening here soon – Embassy of Iran in Israel." A complete mystery, it left people buzzing over who the sponsors were. Humungous Iranian and Israeli flags across the thing added to the heated debate and a working telephone number on the billboard went only to a machine.

Monster 5-story billboard announcing new film in Tel Aviv

Likely suspects were the Hamabul Art Collective. Denying all responsibility, they were still thrilled to see their efforts catching on. Apparently by complete coincidence, a film group staged the event in preparation for release of their new political comedy. Embassies must be a popular preoccupation in Israel at the moment.

"Atomic Falafel" is a new comedy by director Dror Shaul. Opening in Israel last month, it's a "satirical comedy mocking ultra-militarism." Variety writer Alyssa Simon describes it as an "exuberant, delightfully absurd comedy, Israeli [director-writer] Dror Shaul's 'Dr. Strangelove.'"

Quite irreverent and with some adult themes, it avoids branding either Jews or Iranians entirely, while dealing with threat of imminent annihilation via falafel and geek love. You can find a synopsis of "Atomic Falafel" here.

Will it or the "Iranian Embassy" help at bit? God only knows.

If they are expecting acts of reciprocal kindness or even a civilized response from the Iranian regime, they must be very disappointed. Iranian hardliners reportedly let Kerry and the rest of the G5+1 recently know "we reject the existence of any Israeli on this earth." Rather inflexible.

Meanwhile Britain and other nations are queuing to open embassies and businesses to celebrate the "New Iran." Completely reformed by money.

"We stay with fingers crossed for now," Gil Goldsmith says of their "ambassadorial" positions. If nothing else, the existence of "The Embassy" and film at such a time proves Israelis are seeking peace, even if it opens them to risks and ridicule. Crazy artists and movie producers aren't doing it alone.

Discreetly offstage, the Israeli government appears to stamp their oblique approval. In a mission statement for the "Iranian Embassy," this surprising line appears:

A project initiated by Hamabul (the Great Flood) Arts Collective in cooperation with the Jerusalem Foundation and the Jerusalem Municipality.

That would be the official Jerusalem City government, along with a venerable foundation supported by Jews across the world for half a century.

Is it political naiveté to imagine you can change people who see you as "a cancerous tumor" through comedy and art, or is it a sign of hope? After all, Hatikvah ("The Hope") is Israel's national anthem.

SOURCES:

• Haaretz
• Times of Israel
• The Art Newspaper