Artist Liani Goldstein-Toledano has transformed her wartime experiences into a multifaceted creative endeavor that intertwines memory, healing, and community connection. Her recent installation, a stitched wartime diary, incorporates barcodes that each unlock personal and collective memories from the conflict, including songs, photographs, videos, and reflections. An unfinished barcode at the end symbolizes the ongoing nature of both her personal journey and the broader narrative of Israel.
The war also inspired Goldstein-Toledano to begin crocheting brightly colored flowers mounted on cork bases bearing the names of soldiers and civilians killed since hostilities erupted. This memorial flower project began after she lost a close friend, artist Talia Kutz, whose family—her brother Aviv, his wife Livnat, and their three children—were killed in their home’s safe room during the October 7 attack in Kibbutz Kfar Aza. Goldstein-Toledano hopes every home in Israel will display one of these flowers as a reminder of the lives lost from that day onward.
Beyond commemoration, the flower project serves a philanthropic purpose. Proceeds from sales go to Beit Melacha, a creative workshop founded by Livnat Kutz before her death. Goldstein-Toledano emphasized that while the flower symbolizes remembrance, the revenue generated helps fund hope, rehabilitation, and healing efforts linked to the workshop.
Goldstein-Toledano’s work extends to her role at the Nekuda Gallery, which has evolved into a space promoting dialogue and resilience in a region deeply affected by conflict. Prior to the war, she ran joint art workshops for Jewish and Arab women in conjunction with Iman Baransa, an artist from the Arab village of Reineh and Goldstein-Toledano’s longtime partner. These workshops paused after October 7 due to the emotional toll and mistrust wrought by the violence but resumed nearly a year later as an act of communal healing.
The artist explained that these renewed workshops, while emotionally challenging, facilitate difficult conversations through shared creativity. Her service in the military reserves, working alongside Jewish, Bedouin, Druze, Christian, and Muslim soldiers, has further reinforced her belief in the power of personal connection to break down prejudice and fear.
Over the past three years, Nekuda Gallery has expanded its role beyond a traditional museum space. Rotating exhibitions, artist-led workshops, and programs designed for wounded soldiers and evacuees contribute to its mission as a center for resilience and reflection. Visitors often arrive seeking contemporary art but leave with a deeper appreciation for the region’s history and the ongoing journey toward healing.
Goldstein-Toledano sees her work less as an economic venture and more as a catalyst for connection. Located in a former train station waiting room once served by the Valley Train, the gallery embodies a legacy of connecting disparate communities—this time through art that helps individuals confront grief, honor memory, and envision collective recovery. Like the unfinished barcode in her embroidery project, these efforts remain a work in progress, capturing the evolving story of a society striving to heal.