When my wife and I left California to make aliyah with our three little kids, everyone thought we were crazy. We landed in August 2024, just 10 months into the October 7th War, to fulfill a long-held dream to arrive and contribute to the country as citizens rather than just visitors. Many friends and family told us that the timing wasn’t great, and maybe we should delay for a year.
But we felt an overwhelming sense that it was now or never, and we recognized a silver lining despite all of the trauma and uncertainty: the country was pulling together, and people were showing up for each other like never before. We wanted to participate, volunteer, and provide some kind of an uplift in that environment.
The timing was compelling for one other reason as well: Israel was about to hit a population of 10 million, and the government was planning to release a once-in-fifteen-years population census, providing perfect data on the demographic profile of the country by age, gender, religion, ethnicity, location and place of origin. I wanted to take this data and set out on a journey to try to answer a deceptively simple question: Who is Israel right now, in this moment?
That question became the foundation of Hinenu. The project set out to photograph and interview 100 people whose collective demographic profile exactly mirrors that of the whole country. For example, with participant selection grounded directly in census data, we interviewed and photographed three Bedouins mapping to their 3% share of the population, 13 ultra-Orthodox, 15 olim, 16 from the Tel Aviv District, 35 under the age of 19, etc.
In interview after interview, people shared deeply personal experiences, often saying it was the first time they had ever told their life story out loud. Again and again, we heard how meaningful—and even healing—it felt to be truly listened to. From that insight came the title Hinenu, which translates to “Here we are.” It marks a moment of arrival, a presentation of human presence, and a spiritual echo of stepping forward into uncertainty with full commitment.
The entire project unfolded during an active, multi-front war. Travel restrictions, evacuations, missile attacks, and road closures proved to be loyal companions. For months, large parts of the north were inaccessible. I took the final portrait in East Jerusalem during the Israel-Iran war in June 2025, after I had slept seven nights in a row in a bunker three stories underground. And yet, people kept showing up, agreeing to be photographed, agreeing to speak openly, insisting that their stories mattered.
Some asked whether the project was political or propaganda. My answer was always the same: the work is intentionally apolitical. The only prompt was to tell true, meaningful stories from one’s life, in one’s own words, so that others might understand who Israelis really are, through their own voices. Of course, no number of stories could ever be sufficient. Even five million would still leave half the country’s human stories untold. But just as a low-resolution image of a well-known painting still allows you to recognize what you are seeing, these 100 stories offer a human-scale window into an infinitely complex whole.
Likened to Humans of New York by the Times of Israel, Hinenu is not meant as an explanation of Israel, nor a definitive statement. It is an invitation—to look more closely, to listen more carefully, and to approach one another with curiosity rather than certainty. Creating this work reshaped how I see this country and my place within it. My hope is that it might do something similar for you.
Hinenu was published as a large-format coffee table book by Gefen Publishing House in January 2026, currently available in Israel and North America.
