Liat Aharon: a public confession about money, music, and the attempt to return to the profession

Liat Aharon — an Israeli singer and actress, remembered by many for her work on children’s television and past projects — recently published a sharp, very personal post: she is in a financial crisis and needs help to start earning from her art again.

Her words lack a “beautiful legend” about a creative slump. It’s about everyday reality: she used to feel strong and secure, but now admits she doesn’t see a clear way to “bring herself to the world” and monetize what she does. She writes openly that in difficult moments she blames herself and falls into a sense of failure and despair.

Aharon separately describes something familiar to many Israeli creative people: advice like “find a marketer,” “get social media consultation,” “just make the right content plan” sounds logical, but in reality turns into noise when you’re simultaneously trying to survive, work “to the bone,” and raise children. She talks about concentration problems and how, because of this, any “right steps” become almost unattainable.

At the same time, she emphasizes: this is not about asking for “money for nothing.” She is looking for someone to sell her concert program and work on a profit-sharing model. Simultaneously, she is asking to find someone to help with social media — either for payment or for a percentage/share of future income if the project succeeds.

To make it clear that this is not a “vacuum” dream, Aharon describes her current work: she has two albums at different stages. One is produced by Tsach Drori. The other she is making at home herself — more electronic in sound, literally assembled through home mastering of software. She calls these materials strong but admits: she still doesn’t understand how to bring them to the listener.

There is also a pragmatic calculation: if her current performance is purchased now, this money will go towards specific release expenses — paying musicians and recording, mixing, basic PR. In the post, she mentions wanting to cover debts and expenses for specific recording participants, as well as complete technical stages without which a song doesn’t become a product.

Against this backdrop, the media reminded of her biography, which part of the audience had already forgotten. Aharon started in the group “Young Tel Aviv,” appeared in series, served in the Education and Youth Corps ensemble, led TV projects, worked as a host on a children’s channel, and left there in the mid-2000s. Later, she released music and simultaneously moved into other activities.

Another line is her life after leaving the industry: she shared that she studied shiatsu, shifted towards the therapeutic field, adheres to a more “natural” lifestyle, and made care products by hand.

The reaction to her post followed a familiar pattern. Many supported her: “not everyone who can create must be able to sell,” “it’s not shameful to delegate promotion,” “recognition does not equal stability.” There were also colder responses — but overall, the discussion brought to the surface a topic increasingly talked about in Israel: how artists survive between high living costs, family burdens, and a market where attention rarely converts into money without a separate “promotion” profession.

This story is not so much about “talent” — she already has that — but about the gap between past recognition and today’s stability. Returning to the industry in 2026 means not just writing songs again. It means finding a bridge between the author and the market: a person or team who can package creativity, sell performances, build communication, and turn music into working income.

And if this story has a continuation, it will show not “who is right,” but whether in Israel there is that very link — artist + management + distribution — that can pull people out of silence back into the profession. NNews — Israel News | Nikk.Agency