Art Undermines Government
Some of you may be aware of the Israeli art student scandal, but odds are against it. There is a reason for that.
Shortly after the infamous attacks on the World Trade Center and the Pentagon, FOX News broadcast a four-part series about a massive espionage ring that had infiltrated the highest levels of government. It was scrubbed from their website within days, but you can read the transcripts here (Part 1, 2,3, 4) or search The Memory Hole for the video.
In the words of Morpheous, “Fate, it seems, is not without a sense of irony.”
Yes, I actually own a piece of the infamous Israeli art. When I first heard the story, the picture was hanging next to a bookcase that held numerous volumes on intelligence, terrorism, and Cold War politics on its shelves. Just a few feet away from the frame was my copy of “By Way of Deception: The Secret History of the Mossad.”
As you can see, it is not the prettiest painting, but for a brief – very brief moment, it had some sort of meaning, which is why I purchased it back in November of 2000.
On the Tuesday prior to Thanksgiving, I was hanging out at a coffee shop in Scottsdale, Arizona. I had met the owners the prior week while working a booth for a holiday turkey drive at their store. They invited me back the next week, promising to teach me how to make a real cappuccino and get my feet wet behind the bar. The elderly owners needed a day off from their 7-day a week business and hoped that I could fill in once a week.
About 9 a.m., a man claiming to be an Israeli art student came in with some unstretched canvas paintings he did in art school. He was here in the United States, hoping to sell some art to pay for his trip.
The paintings were mediocre, like the original artwork you can pick up for $19.99 at some “art expo” held at the Holiday Inn.
I was a little skeptical when he mentioned he was from Israeli, wondering if he was sympathetic to the Palestinians, whose plight is worse than Black South Africans under apartheid, according to Desmond Tutu. I despise Zionism.
He pointed to a painting of two blue elephants with a message of peace written in Hebrew scrolled around the border. He did a song and dance routine about peace with the Palestinians and peace with the world. Maybe it was because he saw the “My karma ran over your dogma” bumper sticker on my car. The Volvo was one of two cars in an otherwise empty lot.
It was enough for me. I think I gave him twenty bucks because I liked the message coming from an Israeli. It gave me hope.
Hope was a fleeting moment.
He offered to put me in touch with a framer who had a store in Scottsdale and was offering a generous discount on framing, but the art student could not remember the number and offered to call me with the information, so out of forced politeness, I gave him my business card. It only had my mobile number – no address. I wasn’t about to visit a framer in Scottsdale. I’d just wait for a coupon from Michaels’, as the frame was worth more than the painting.
I forked over the twenty, ready to get back to the conversation with the coffee shop owners. Then it got weird. He kept hanging around, so to fill an awkward moment of silence, I asked him something about a paint medium and it right then it became obvious that he hadn’t picked up a paint brush since elementary school. I made a flip comment and he then admitted that he was traveling with friends who were art students from Israel. He was helping them to sell their paintings. He had an accent and his English wasn’t perfect - or perhaps it was and it was merely a facade, I thought to myself. I shrugged it off, but I was already uncomfortable.
He spent the next two hours there, nursing one cup of coffee and talking on his cell phone in Hebrew or Yiddish, which I seem to think of as one in the same. He tried to engage us in conversation, stating that he had taken a bus there and was waiting for his friend to pick him up. He didn’t approach the other customers with his work. It was kind of odd that he would remain there caught in a lie.
He left shortly after 11 a.m. and the owners and I breathed a sigh of relief. Still, the painting had the message of peace, though I wondered if it hadn’t been just a scam. I just shrugged it off.
The next day I received a call from the framer, who it turned out did not have a store in Scottsdale. He framed out of his car. I politely told him that I wasn’t ready to frame it. He kept insisting that he knew the perfect frame for the painting, that he knew the artist who painted it and what a special paint it was, yada, yada, yada. He then said that he operated out of the van (first it was car) because it was best to drive to someone’s home to match the frame with the décor of the room. I said that I wasn’t about to let some strange man into my house, and hung up the phone.
Later that evening, the art student poseur called, asking if I had gotten in touch with his friend. I explained to him the lie, and that I didn’t need or want the “art” framed. He became aggressive, suggesting that I had to use his friend’s services. I started yelling at the guy, telling him to stop calling me.
The following day – Turkey Day!, I received yet another phone call from the “framer”, insisting he come over and frame the painting. He said he needed money. I was screaming into the phone, asking him with a tone of incredulous facetiousness why he would be calling on Thanksgiving morning (around 11) demanding to come over right then to frame a cheap piece of art! My voice was getting a little shaky because it’s not in my nature to scream at people, at least not out loud. I told him that I would not let a stranger in my house and to stop calling me. I only wish that I could have slammed the phone down for him to feel my anger. My husband said he would answer the phone if the guy tried to call back, but the psycho got the message. No more calls.
Flash forward to early October 2001. Fox News aired the story of the Israeli spy ring, claiming that agents were approaching DEA personnel in hopes of gaining access to federal buildings. Phoenix was not listed as a target city, though there was a kiosk selling toy airplane doodad things at the mall nearest my house. Also, the story said the art students were seen in the spring, though a couple of these guys had been in Phoenix back in 2000, as was evidenced by my painting, now appropriately hanging next to the military strategy and intelligence books.
I thought back to my conversations with these men, wondering why they would have been so vociferous about entering my home. Would there have been a transmitter in the frame? My husband and I had security clearances, but that was over a decade ago. I called the local FBI office, but no one returned my call. Of course not, because no Mossad agent would ever conspire against America.
Was I targeted? Perhaps, or maybe it is just another in a weird occurrence in a long stream of coincidences. Who knows? I had to laugh when I discovered that the company that provides billing and directory assistance for 90% of the phone companies in the United States is owned by an Israeli company, and not only that, their main computer billing center is in Israel. Here I was happy they didn't have my address,and yet they could have had so much more. This is the ultimate intelligence collection tool, allowing Israelis better access than even the NSA.
And the Israelis do have access. All wiretaps in the United States are made and installed by an Israeli company, Comverse Infosys.
Are the Israelis spying on us? The Starr report indicated that President Clinton told Monica Lewisnky that their calls were probably recorded. Shortyly thereafter, he called off the FBI investigation of the Israeli mole, “Mega”, who had penetrated the highest office in the United States.
With all this access to phone conversations, it is quite easy for a foreign power to blackmail just about any official. Having an affair? Calling a bookie? Talking with the enemy? No wonder why Israel has become the spoiled golden child!
After giving this serious consideration, serious as a maragrita might provide, I have decided to transform my symbol of Israeli intelligence into something better. The two elephants with their trunks interlocked will serve as my campaign symbol in my write-in campaign for Presidency of the United States. I am up to ten committed votes, and possibly eleven provided I get off my butt and e-mail my platform to my campaign manager in Arizona. The people need answers and I can provide them, albeit in a tangential fashion. You can vote for the lesser of two evils, or you can use your voice to let people know you want something better. There is no knight in shining armor ready to swoop us away to fantasyland. A better future starts with following your conscience, even if you stand alone in the crowd.
I have the same painting purchased in New Mexico somewhere. Got it as a gift. The writing on the bottom is different looks like Chinese. I don't know Chinese.
Posted by: Clayd | April 17, 2004 at 09:36 PM
We just got scammed in Richmond, Va ...we issued stop payments (had paid much more for the garbage paintings than $20), but the stories keep getting more interesting !
Posted by: Sucker | November 04, 2004 at 09:45 AM
I found one copy of this "two blue elephants" painting on rolled up canvas 2 years ago in my grandmother's basement a few months after she passed away of old age. My grandmother loved 'starving-artist' types and her basement was filled with her charitable purchases. This was in Bergen County NJ. Recently I saw the same painting on a Craigslist.Com posting for some moving sale in Boston MA. Pleasantly surprised about the duplicate, I purchased this one yesterday (framed) and the owners said they bought it "from an israeli art student who was in the US for the summer" last year in California. A google search led me to your site and I have been happily entertained by the stories of these elephant paintings -of which i now own 2. All 3 I have seen so far are different from each other so one could at the very least be assured that someone did in fact paint them, they were not run off a copy machine, and hence are art, all scamming aside. Perhaps worth more now with the oddity of these stories...
cheers and happy turkey day,
Emm
Posted by: emm heimer | November 22, 2004 at 10:32 AM