As imagined by political cartoonist Michel Kichka, the typical Israeli looks like a Semitic version of the “Terminator”: equipped from head-to-toe with heat-seeking sensors, infrared goggles and laser guns.
But all this paraphernalia isn’t designed to fend off terrorists. Instead, explains Kichka, it assists typical Israelis in their quest to “find the best bargain in town.”
Kichka, whose political cartoons have poked fun at, illuminated and exemplified Israeli culture and society for more than two decades, spoke to a receptive audience at San Francisco’s Reform Congregation Emanu-El Feb. 13. His Bay Area speaking tour was sponsored by the Israel Center of the S.F.-based Jewish Community Federation, as part of its scholars-in-residence series.
The son of Holocaust survivors, the Belgian-born cartoonist, who immigrated to Israel in 1974, has a style reminiscent of vintage Mad magazine artists and famed counterculture scribbler R. Crumb. Indeed, some of Kichka’s subjects are dead ringers for Mad cover boy Alfred E. Neuman, and quite a few of his female characters have the exaggerated breasts and buttocks for which Crumb was famous.
Kichka’s wry take on everyday Israeli life is visibly appreciated by an audience more recently accustomed to somber news from the Jewish state. Although Kichka doesn’t avoid the turmoil that has marred the region during the past few years, he does allow for some levity.
In a panel called the “Israeli Survival Kit” (Kichka used a projector to show the cartoon panels), the artist demonstrated everything necessary to survive day-to-day life. The “survivor” belt did contain the standard gas mask, but there were also other amenities designed to ease one’s peace of mind — such as Prozac tablets, travel tickets, a fifth of whiskey and even a roach clip.
As the audience tittered (although there was some tongue-clucking from the more senior members of the audience), Kichka segued into other topical arenas. His drawings of the cluttered, bustling Dizengoff Street circa 1978 — with its easy harmony of Jews and Arabs, street vendors and wide-eyed tourists, struck a nostalgic chord with the audience.
“It is sad, but obviously much has changed in Israeli society, even from four years ago,” said Kichka.
The artist’s work reflected the tenor of the times. For example, a 1980 panel depicted a kibbutz scene that borrows from the famous photo “An American Woman in Rome”: several busty, young blondes perform their daily chores, while drooling rabbinical students leer at them.
“The Scandinavian kibbutz workers were always very popular,” Kichka wisecracked.
In a 1997 panel, Dizengoff Street, as envisaged by Kichka, was home to mohawked lesbians holding hands, rubbing elbows with wary looking young men with payot. When he showed the same street in a more recent panel, it was largely empty.
The satire during the event was mostly served sunny-side up, however. A panel called the “New Israeli Macho” showed the archetypal Israeli man tending to a barbecue. There is the familiar abundance of chest hair, coupled with the prominent chai gold pendant. The bathing suit is several sizes too small for the man’s huge gut. A pack of Camels draws attention to his plumber’s butt, and that bulge in the front of his skivvies is…a cell phone.
“Israelis never leave home without it,” quipped Kichka.
Kichka also touched on subjects he considered to be touchstones of Israeli society. Several panels depicted early Zionist settlers in a heroic light, and there were some showing family gatherings, a ritual that the artist said is deeply ingrained in the country’s social fabric.
Nearly all of the panels of family gatherings caused Kichka to exclaim, “…and, if you look very closely, you can see my dog!”
Kichka concluded his presentation on an optimistic note, telling the audience that, no matter how tough times get, “We Israelis never lose hope, and we never stop dreaming.”