Eli Singalovski
Eli Singalovski ist bildender Künstler und arbeitet hauptsächlich im Medium Fotografie. Er wurde in Petersburg (Russland) geboren und lebt in Tel Aviv. Er absolvierte die Bezalel Akademie für Kunst und Design in Jerusalem (Bachelor of Fine Arts) und die HFBK Hamburg (Master of Fine Arts).
Zu den Fragen, mit denen er sich in seinen Arbeiten beschäftigt, gehören: Wie äußern sich Machtverhältnisse in Architektur? Welche wechselseitige Beeinflussung gibt es zwischen gebauter Umwelt und den Menschen, die sich darin bewegen? Wie bilden sich Fragen von Identität, politische Narrative und Ideologien in Architekturen ab?
Singalovski wurde mehrfach mit Preisen und Stipendien ausgezeichnet, darunter der Preis des israelischen Kultusminsteriums im Bereich bildende Kunst (2021) und der „Lauren and Mitchell Presser Photography Award“ für israelische Nachwuchskünstler, vergeben vom Kunstmuseum Tel Aviv (2019). Seine Arbeiten wurden in verschiedenen Institutionen in Einzel- und Gruppenausstellungen gezeigt, so im Kunstmuseum Tel Aviv, im Herzliya Museum für zeitgenössische Kunst, im Münchner Stadtmuseum, im Israel-Museum (Jerusalem), im Negev-Museum (Beer-Sheva), und im Kunstmuseum Petah Tikva. In Deutschland waren WErke von Singalovski zuletzt im Rahmen einer Ausstellung über den Architekten Ossip Klarwein zu sehen (Kirche Am Hohenzollernplatz, Berlin und Ernst Barlach Haus, Hamburg).
Eli Singalovski: Gates of Heaven
Traditionally, houses of worship symbolize spirituality, openness, refuge, and human connection. They are the places to which members of a community or a congregation turn for prayer, learning, celebration, and mourning.
But what happens when the need to ensure the safety of the building and the worshipers within influences the degrees of accessibility and hospitality that these houses of worship can offer? And how do these changes manifest themselves in the architectural design and thus affect the building‘s ability to fulfill some of its designated purposes?
The event that prompted the start of this project took place in 2014, at the beginning of the
IDF military operation Protective Edge against the Hamas terror organization in Gaza. On July 13, a violent mob of protesters, who had broken off from a larger pro-Palestinian protest which was taking place nearby, surrounded the Don Isaac Abravanel synagogue on rue de la Roquette in Paris and attempted to force their way into the building. According to the testimony of some of the congregants who were attending a prayer service inside, the element that protected them while they were besieged, until a reinforcement of riot police arrived and dispersed the rioters, was the synagogue’s tall metal gate.
This dramatic incident has sparked an interest in further exploring the ways in which the concerns and fears of Jewish communities across Europe are potentially manifested in the architecture and immediate surroundings of their community centers and houses of prayer.
Working on the project took me on a month-long journey, visiting and documenting the synagogues of over thirty-four different Jewish communities in Germany, the Netherlands, England, France, and Italy.
I focused on a simplified classification of building types: older structures retrofitted with modern security features; modern buildings—especially in Germany—designed from the outset with security in mind, often giving them a semi-fortified appearance; unobtrusive architecture designed to blend in with its surroundings and remain hidden in plain sight; and highly expressive designs that may confuse or deter a potential attacker by their unconventional form.
All of the buildings I visited were equipped with standard security measures such as CCTV cameras and metal gates. Some also had bulletproof windows, double-door security corridors, concealed entrances and exits, and even underground passageways. In some cases, armed security guards were stationed at the entrance, while in France and the Netherlands, police officers or soldiers stood guard outside the buildings.
From the very beginning of the project, it was clear that constant prior coordination was essential to successfully engage with the communities and gain access to document the structures. Some places were more welcoming than others. On multiple occasions, I had to identify myself to the police, and in one instance—due to a miscommunication about my arrival time—I was detained for several hours at a local police station. As it turns out, one does not simply walk up to the door and knock—especially not when the atmosphere is thick with worry…
The need for security within European Jewish communities is both real and deeply rooted in lived experience. Ensuring safety for worshipers, leaders, and the spaces themselves is not only a practical concern but a reflection of historical trauma and ongoing threats. Yet as layers of protection accumulate, a tension between safety and openness emerges. The challenge is to strike a balance: protecting communities without compromising the spirit of hospitality, openness, and visibility that these sacred spaces are meant to embody. As communities continue to navigate these realities, the question remains: how to create spaces that are both safe and genuinely open to those who seek them.
Die Bilder entstanden auf Einladung des Tablet Magazine Ende 2015 and wurden in der Printausgabe der Zeitschrift veröffentlicht (Ausgabe 1, Bd. 2, 2016). Das Projekt wäre nicht möglich gewesen ohne die unschätzbare Partnerschaft und Zusammenarbeit mit Alex Cocotas, dessen Einsatz für die Rechere und Hilfe bei der Organisation grundlegend für das letztliche Ergebnis waren. Für seinen Beitrag bin ich zutiefst dankbar.
Dieser Text erschienen zuerst in: werkraum bild und sinn e.V. (Hg.): Jüdische Realitäten nach dem 7. Oktober / Jewish Realities after October 7, Berlin 2025, S. 70.