An artist's street in Sheikh Jarrah
Heading out of my comfort zone to a different Jerusalem neighborhood
A different Jerusalem neighborhood
I’d received an email from a friend and colleague about a local painter showing her works in a private viewing at her home. It’s not all that unusual for me to receive those kinds of emails, but I tend to make time for artworks that draw me personally, rather than those that feel less enticing.
These were oils, loose and colorful, clearly showing locations around Jerusalem; the Old City walls, the Temple Mount, still lifes of oranges or cherries, a patio table with two chairs. I usually shy away from images of Jerusalem’s Old City, particularly anything that smacks of politics and strife, and the Temple Mount has that in spades.
But these were different. Painted by Lotta Camilla Teale, a British attorney who’s lived in Sierra Leone and Pakistan, as well as Tuscany and Thailand, and is now ensconced in Jerusalem with her husband for a year or two of his work, they displayed her Jerusalem, the city that she’s been exploring for the last year and they were…different.
They were soft, inviting, fresh. They offered up a different part of Jerusalem, not my western, Jewish part of the city, but the eastern side, East Jerusalem that is mostly inhabited by Arab Jerusalemites. It felt like an invitation to visit.
Lotta and her husband, Skye Christensen — could there be any more gloriously romantic names? — are living in Sheikh Jarrah, the East Jerusalem neighborhood that is often in the news because of a long-standing, ongoing land dispute between Palestinians and Israelis. They’re in Jerusalem for Skye’s work, overseeing Palestinian elections for the UN.
The spot under dispute is a nine-minute walk from Lotta’s home, on the same stretch of street where she lives, but her block couldn’t have felt more different. Her next-door neighbors are the local offices for the International Monetary Fund, along with the American Colony Hotel over in one direction and the Ambassador Hotel up the block.
I drove up the street twice, looking for parking and finding none, and, to be honest, feeling a little nervous about being the Jewish Israeli woman in a neighborhood where I’m not sure I’m not wanted. After circling around a few times, I finally parked a few streets down, on a quiet side street lined with apartment buildings and private homes, flowering bougainvillea and silvery green olive trees in bloom, just like my West Jerusalem neighborhood.
Leaving my car parked outside a kindergarten where preschool-age kids were yelling happily in the yard, I walked up the hill to Lotta’s house on Nablus Road, feeling like a tourist but ultimately more interested in what’s being sold in the corner groceries and fruit and vegetable stores. Turns out, same goods, maybe slightly cheaper.
Lotta and Skye are renting a 100-year-old gracious Arab home, with high, vaulted ceilings, tiled floors, thick stone walls. The front door is graced by a wide, open stone veranda, and inside are Lotta and Skye’s collection — she says he’s the collector — of furniture from their travels, mostly Pakistan, heavy wooden couches and colorful, woven cushions. Her studio, a spacious, light-filled room, has high, paned windows on two sides, open to the sunny, blue skies outside.
We spoke about Lotta’s particular situation in Jerusalem, her ability to befriend both Israeli Jews and Palestinian Arabs, her desire to perhaps bring them together here and there, an idea that hasn’t happened all that much given the current political climate, but did take place, by chance, at a recent private viewing of her collection, “Jerusalem: An Exhibition,” attended by a mix of local friends and fans.
We spoke about some of her paintings featuring the Temple Mount, an historic and religious site that’s so familiar you almost wonder at the idea of someone actually painting it. “Is it cheesy?” asked Lotta. I told her no, it really isn’t. I wouldn’t necessarily want it hanging in my home, because of all the strife and anger and religious protectionism associated with that place and site. But I could see what’s beautiful about it, especially the ancient cypress trees that she painted at its entrance, standing there for centuries.
We said goodbye and I returned to my car, and was home about 20 minutes later, having crossed the rubicon and as often happens, very glad I had ventured out.
To read more about Lotta’s work, see my Times of Israel article.
To see more of Lotta’s work, head to her website.