Hazem Harb
Liquid city, 2021
olive oil cans
220 only
220 only
5.9 x 4.2 x 2.7 m
Copyright The Artist
In this installation, Hazem Harb confronts the viewer with a mass of empty olive oil containers. Stacked in a way that is reminiscent of town houses and skyscrapers, building up...
In this installation, Hazem Harb confronts the viewer with a mass of empty olive oil containers. Stacked in a way that is reminiscent of town houses and skyscrapers, building up to an impenetrable tower, the structure features many different levels of elevations and perspectives. The shiny silver of the oil cans also contrasts with the dark grey setting of this anteroom, with shadows of the cans covering the surrounding walls.
As if looking at the bustling life of a cityscape, these cans also speak of the importance of olives as building blocks for Palestine’s agriculture and represent a symbol of its identity. On the one hand, olive trees serve as a source of income; on the other, they stand as a quintessential symbol of the country’s resilience and continuity, not least because of their longevity.
Olive trees can survive for thousands of years, with the oldest of them dating back to over 4,000 years ago. The trees are taken care of by succeeding generations; seedlings are handed down to nurture and protect its people, who harvest them to extract oil from its fruit – a ‘liquid gold’ that is common in Palestinian households. Yet, the existence of these trees - like this imaginary silver city of olive cans - is fragile.
As if looking at the bustling life of a cityscape, these cans also speak of the importance of olives as building blocks for Palestine’s agriculture and represent a symbol of its identity. On the one hand, olive trees serve as a source of income; on the other, they stand as a quintessential symbol of the country’s resilience and continuity, not least because of their longevity.
Olive trees can survive for thousands of years, with the oldest of them dating back to over 4,000 years ago. The trees are taken care of by succeeding generations; seedlings are handed down to nurture and protect its people, who harvest them to extract oil from its fruit – a ‘liquid gold’ that is common in Palestinian households. Yet, the existence of these trees - like this imaginary silver city of olive cans - is fragile.