With these words Lee Rimon ends her short note in which she describes the planned installation.

And indeed, the simple looking wall that crosses the Pyramid Gallery from one end to the other is only the tip of an iceberg. Underneath there is a turmoil of associations and memory fragments, which simmer and nourish each other. In the end it creates a coherent, measured system, which is suddenly understood and then appears inevitable.

What do we have here?

Flickering memories: A visit as a young student to Berlin, the birthplace of her father, when the city was divided by an ugly concrete wall. A later visit when the pieces of that wall, now fallen, are already being sold as souvenirs to tourists. On both of these occasions the astonishment at seeing the miraculous treasures from the past on permanent exhibition in the museums of Berlin rises up. The essence of these treasures is captured in the mysterious, timeless beauty of Nefertiti. This is emphasized even more by being placed in contrast to the ugly forcefulness of the wall and the miracle of its disappearance.

In the installation in the gallery Nefertiti observs the wall from the distance of time as one who has seen everything and knows that all is vanity and that force has no purpose.

Once again the wall, the one which is stuck in the heart of the country like a defiant wedge, a type of violent identity, which divides and separates people; protecting but also bringing misery. And it seems that what it represents, has driven Lee Rimon to hang two breastplates in her installation. These. armours of scales could serve for defensive needs, but might well also be used for offensive purposes. These are ironically enough composed of units having the silhouette of a house in its most basic form.

The image of the house is a motive to which Rimon has returned repeatedly over the years, but now, in the version of the breastplate, the pointed roofs become a prickly, threatening surface.

The word "wall" evokes associations and fantasies of looking up at a huge rampart impassible and separating us from other people. Adding to this all the other social and political implications that surround us, we wind up in the eye of the storm.

On the other hand, looking from above on the miniature wall positioned in the Gallery, makes of the viewer a tourist from outer space looking from a distance at what is going on in the swamp of reality located down there on the ground. This point of view causes him to imagine human beings as tiny ants bustling about for no reason, with no direction and their deeds, which seem important and meaningful to them, as soap bubbles which vanish without leaving a mark.