“Line in the Sand” Exhibition Magdalena Langer, with Champagne and Canapes

When: 26 February (Sunday) 4pm-6pm

Cost: $20

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This exhibition belongs to Therapy and my Therapist. My fight, my chance to heal, a choice to change.

I came to Australia in 1949, spending my first formative years in a notorious camp in Austria.

On arriving in Australia, then only to be transported to another camp where we stayed till the end of 1952.

This was a very fragile existence within the dysfunctional circumstances I would protect in fear of abandonment.

Not having a voice was ultimately the only way of surviving and staying safe.

However, this lifelong coping mechanism caused almost irretrievable damage, prolonged fear of not giving voice to the unacceptable behaviour.

My self-esteem was shattered, I became lost in dialog, unable to differ the norm and reality, or able to articulate the trauma that gravely affected me, other than internalise the trauma.

The consequences, lead results to a fragile state of mind leading to self-harm, anxiety, vulnerability, low self-esteem nightmares and suicidal thoughts.

My life was shackled to the past however, my life was beginning to change with the support of Therapy.

In conversation I was encouraged to study with clay, and soon enough my figurative sculptures became evident, opening up a dialog to trauma, as art has its own language of communication.

No one knows the narrative, only in therapy were the sculptures given a voice that reflected the internal trauma, some sculptures were so vulnerable and fragile that it was too painful to even fire them.

As I cradled these sculptures, I learnt to trust and speak with them, as the narrative began a broken dialog that also mirrored my body language.

I created these sculptures within a vulnerable state, my lost self often in the unconscious state being which is reflected in my work.

With these hands from the heart! That touched my soul, I created some sort of communication to express my emotional existence.

My sculptures are a part of me and I am a part of them.

I communicate with them. My sculptures make little sense without me as they are also me.

In 1999, I went to a "Hidden Child Conference" where Yad Vashem was present. The Art Curator approached me as I was very much in tears.

With me I had my folder that documented all my images of my sculptures, poetry, drawings and writings which prompted her to ask for their collections.

On arriving back in Sydney, 5 books were made with all the content. 1 book and sculpture on their request was sent to Yad Vashem, and the other 4 books in storage. My concern was leaving these books for others to process, as this content belongs to me.

I was in quandary how to resolve the embodied experience that was documented in the books that I made, with some images fragile and vulnerable also, deeply personal..

In therapy I was reminded that I was an artist and to trust the process that I would come up with the resolution that is truly personal and authentic to me.

So with great contemplation and that trust in mind I decided to chop up the books with a guillotine at work.

A euphoric feeling gushed over me, as cutting ties with the past started to become a reality.

I had no idea what would happen, only that it was the right decision at the right time, here was my books in sandwich zip lock bags. Yes, a radical statement and action.

My sewing machine was in the process of previous work, so with little thought I started sewing the pieces randomly, for hours and hours and hours with tears and more tears stitch by stitch and even when the cotton ran out I kept sewing, the perforation on the images creating its own words without meaning.

As art created its own language to communicate, transformation became evident, contemporary and conceptual art was forming, so I just kept the flow and followed the organic process of transition.

This conscious decision created the space for personal expressive work of art that communicated the narrative.

“Like drawing a line in the Sand,” .

My work is a reflection that reflects who I am, shaped by the past’

This is me.

One can’t wait for life to stop hurting to be happy.

Now the transformation has been transformed, a vulnerable and personal exposure on oneself, nothing has been denied, the narrative has been told and not told however, it’s contained.

And finally, hopefully I’ve made space for my work of different infinitive shapes and language that will invite a broader range of emotion that belongs to the universe.

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