5/22/2016

Triennale Européenne de l’Estampe Contemporaine - Portet Sur Garonne, France, March 2016




Roots 1
old family photo, digital processing
40x50 cm, 2013-2015
 PRIZE OF THE CITY PORTET SUR GARONNE, FRANCE

Roots 2
old family photo, digital processing
40x50 cm, 2013-2015

Roots 3
old family photo, digital processing
40x50 cm, 2013-2015


"Nexus" - Art Museum Cluj-Napoca, Romania, March 2016



Gregorius Renard and his wife - from the "Roots" series
digital processing of a dagguereotype from the middle of the 19th century
60 x 80 cm, 2014 



10/23/2015

SOLO SHOW: "Ein Weg wie hundert Leben" - Begegnungs- und Kulturzentrum Friedrich Teutsch, Sibiu, Rumänien - 12.10.2015- 15.01.2016



Toate lucrările și versiunea în LIMBA ROMÂNĂ pentru acest proiect se găsesc la:

All works and the ENGLISH VERSION for this project can be seen at: 



Ein Weg wie hundert Leben“ ist die Geschichte meiner französisch-deutschen Familie aus Lothringen und dem Schwarzwald des XVIII. Jahrhunderts. Der Entschluss, unsere Familiengeschichte zu erforschen, gab mir schließlich den Mut, die kleine alte Holzschachtel zu öffnen, in der meine Großmutter die wenigen übriggebliebenen Photos, Dokumente und Briefe aufbewahrte. Dabei überwältigte mich die späte Erkenntnis dessen, was wirklich Trennung“, „Heimweh“, „Entwurzelung“ bedeutet – die Deportation der Großeltern nach Russland, der Urgroßeltern in den Bărăgan, des Vaters an den Donau-Kanal – das gespaltene Dasein, das die GESCHICHTE ihrem Leben aufgezwungen hatte. Auch erkannte ich ebenso tiefgründig, dass man „nach Hause“ zurückkehren kann, auch wenn da kein Haus mehr steht; dass die Kraft des Glaubens und das Überleben des Geistes einen retten, auch wenn die Geschichte einem dazu scheinbar keine Chance lässt.




Ein wichtiger Bestandteil des Projekts ist es, die Bilder an möglichst vielen Orten zu zeigen, damit sich die Hauptfiguren zum ersten Mal, symbolisch, frei bewegen können und ihre Geschichte bekannt wird. Bilder aus diesem Projekt wurden bisher in Ausstellungen in Rumänien (Temeswar, Jassy, Arad) und bei internationalen Veranstaltungen gezeigt (Rignac in Frankreich, Evora in Portugal, Madrid und den Kanarischen Inseln in Spanien, Lousã und Candal in Portugal, Klaipeda in Litauen, Denton in Texas/USA, Budapest in Ungarn, Thessaloniki und Veria in Griechenland). Das gesamte Projekt wurde 2013 in Temeswar in der Helios Gallerie, 2014 beim Friedensfestival Sarajevo in Bosnien und Herzegowina und im März 2015 im Stefan-Jäger-Museum in Hatzfeld (Jimbolia) ausgestellt. Die Ausstellung im Teutsch Haus Sibiu wurde am 12 Oktober 2015 eröffnet und kann bis am 15 Januar 2016 besucht werden.





Wurzeln, bis zum Himmel
Über meinen Großvater Renard Ioan Nicolae wusste ich fast gar nichts. Ich hatte nur ein Foto und ein Gerichtsprotokoll, das seinen Tod am 24.01.1946 im Arbeitslager Nr.1651 in Ufalo/Russland feststellte.
Eines Morgens, wie so oft in der letzten Zeit, dachte ich wieder an ihn. Daran, dass er, obwohl er französischer Abstammung war, auf die Liste der 68.000 Personen deutscher Herkunft gekommen war, die im Januar 1945 nach Russland deportiert wurden. Und dass er, wahrscheinlich vor lauter Hunger, Kälte, Erschöpfung und Schwermut, den Tod fand.
Plötzlich, als ich mitten in meinen Gedanken versunken war, schlug eine Taube mit voller Wucht gegen das Fenster. Das hatte ich noch nie erlebt, und ich frage mich ob es wirklich wahr sei, dass die Vögel Boten des Himmels seien. Am selben Abend erhielt ich völlig unerwartet und unverhofft Informationen über meinen Großvater: Fotos aus seiner Kindheit, Erinnerungen aus einer längst vergangener Zeit... und die Nachricht, dass er damals im Lager, aus lauter Verzweiflung, Selbstmord begangen hatte.



Die Heimat, weit entfernt 
Durch das Jalta-Abkommen im Februar 1945 kam Rumänien unter sowjetischen Einfluss, wodurch sich der Lauf der Geschichte und das Schicksal vieler Familien dramatisch veränderten. Im Januar 1945 wurde mein Großvater mütterlicherseits, 35-jährig, zusammen mit seinen Geschwistern und mit anderen 68.000 Personen nach Russland deportiert. Ein paar Tage nach seinem 43. Geburtstag beging mein Großvater väterlicherseits Selbstmord im Arbeitslager Nr. 1651 in Ufalo in Russland. 1951 war mein Urgroßvater 68 Jahre alt und meine Urgroßmutter 66, als sie zusammen mit 40.320 anderen Personen in den Bărăgan deportiert wurden. Dort mussten sie in einer Erdgrube wohnen, die sie sich gegraben hatten. Mit 18 wurde mein Vater zu vier Jahren Zwangsarbeit am Donau-Schwarzmeer-Kanal verurteilt, wo rund 100.000 Personen unter schwer vorstellbaren Bedingungen jahrelang arbeiten mussten. Als 19-Jährige wurde meine Mutter, wie viele andere Studierende in jenen Tagen, der Hochschule verwiesen. Lebensgeschichten, in einem einzigen Atemzug erzählt... aber so schwer wie die ganze Welt... oder so tief wie der endlose Wald, in dem man seine Wurzeln nicht mehr fühlen und den Himmel nicht mehr sehen kann




Aus Russland, mit Liebe 
Meine Großmutter bewahrte mit großer Sorgfalt die Briefe aus der Russlandgefangenschaft meines Großvaters in einer kleinen Holzschachtel mit einem gemalten Deckel. Es fiel mir sehr schwer zu entscheiden, ob ich es wagen durfte, Zeilen zu lesen, die nicht an mich adressiert waren, oder ob ich sie nicht doch lieber für immer dort eingeschlossen lassen sollte. Ich fand den Abschiedsbrief meines Großvaters, in großer Eile am Tag seiner Deportation nach Russland geschrieben; Postkarten auf denen die Tinte längst verblasst war aber die Farbe des Stempelabdrucks „ZENSIERT“ die gleiche Intensität wie am ersten Tag behielt; ein Foto aus dem Lager, auf dem nur noch die Augen meines einst so hübschen Großvaters lebendig waren; Briefe auf ein so dünnes Papier geschrieben, dass die Buchstaben von einer Seite auf die andere durchschienen und eine neue, fast unverständliche Schrift bildeten; kleine, aneinandergenähte, eng beschriebene Papierstückchen, damit möglichst viele Gedanken ihren Weg zu meiner Großmutter fänden. Ich erfuhr, dass „Skoro domoj“ auf Russisch „bald nach Hause gehen“ bedeutet und dass diese Worte immer wieder ausgesprochen wurden, in der Hoffnung, dass sie bald wahr würden. Und ich verstand, dass unter Umständen das Beschaffen von Papier, um nach Hause zu schreiben, zur schwersten Lebensaufgabe werden konnte.


Lebewohl. Für immer. 
Triebswetter, 18. März 1955. 
Meine Großmutter Aurelia Prinz nimmt Abschied von ihrem Vater, Dominic Haman. Nach vier Jahren Deportation in den Bărăgan, des Hauses, der Fabrik, des Besitzes enteignet, waren meine Urgroßeltern gezwungen, Rumänien für immer zu verlassen. Obwohl mein Urgroßvater noch bis 1964 lebte, wurde es meiner Großmutter verwehrt, ihn jemals wiederzusehen.







Notre Père, Vaterunser, Miatyánk, Tatăl Nostru, Pai Nosso 
Meine Mutter erinnert sich, dass sie als Kind das Vaterunser auf Französisch lernte. In Triebswetter betete man auch deutsch, ungarisch und rumänisch... aber diejenigen, die ihre Wurzeln noch tief in ihrer entfernten Heimat fühlten, taten es auf Französisch. Ihre Ahnen hatten Lothringen im Jahr 1770 verlassen, in der Hoffnung auf ein besseres Leben im unbekannten und weit entfernten Banat. Sie setzten Triebswetter für immer auf die Landkarte und wurden von der Geschichte ihrer neuen Heimat umso stärker und für immer geprägt. Der Gedanke an „die Heimat“, die man endlich finden oder wiederzufinden hoffte, auf einem Weg so lang wie hundert Leben, hat in den schwersten Stunden weitergeholfen: auf der Reise im Schwabenzug ins unbekannte Banat; in den Kriegsjahren, als man nichts sehnlicher wünschte, als dass die Männer der Familie unversehrt heimkehrten; in der Kälte Russlands, im Staub des Bărăgans, auf den Felsen des Donau-Schwarzmeer-Kanals. Man konnte sich von seinem Körper lösen, tief in sein Inneres tauchen, hoffen und das Vaterunser beten... französisch, deutsch, rumänisch ... egal in welcher Sprache. Wichtig war, dass es immer wieder geholfen hat, wo immer man sich auch befand.



Link zur TVR Sendung in deutscher Sprache (mit rumänischen Untertiteln)
ab min. 32:45





10/17/2015

"And the Sky Will Always Be Blue" - ART ENCOUNTERS 2015 @ Memorialul Revolutiei Museum in Timisoara, Romania - October 2015


The "Blue Room" of the Memorialul Revolutiei Museum in Timisoara hosting b/w photos by Lucian Ionica depicting the Revolution in 1989 inspired me for this site specific installation that was presented as part of the Avantpost group exhibition at the Art Encounters 2015 events. Curators: Nathalie Hoyos and Raynald Schumacher.


And the Sky Will Always Be Blue
I am a child of a family strongly affected by the social and political changes in Romania after WW2. My great-grandparents were deported to the Baragan, my maternal grandfather was deported to Russia, my paternal grandfather took his life in a Russian labor camp, my father was sentenced to hard-labor at the Danube-Black Sea Canal, my mother was expelled from University. I have thoughts and worries regarding a possible historic recurrence and that the theory of ancestral invisible loyalty” owed to previous generations may indeed predispose us to unwittingly re-enact their suffering and unfinished business in our own life events (Anne Ancelin Schützenberger – The Ancestor Syndrome”). 
The project intends to integrate the human micro-universe and micro-history into the macro-universe and macro-history and put it into a larger, more detached perspective. Macro-systems (represented in this project by images of the sky) continue functioning, no matter if war or peace, victory or loss, life or death. The multiplication of the images of the sky creates “patterns of good things” (in contrast to historic recurrences of “bad things”) and could also become my own “transgenerational therapy”, easing the burden of being the generation of postmemory” (Marianne Hirsch).









"Camera albastra" din Muzeul Memorialul Revolutiei din Timisoara in care sunt expuse fotografii a/n de Lucian Ionica din timpul Revolutiei din 1989 a fost sursa de inspiratie pentru instalatia in situ pe care am prezentat-o in cadrul expozitiei grupului Avantpost la evenimentele Art Encounters. 


Iar cerul va fi mereu albastru… 
Provin dintr-o familie puternic marcata de schimbarile sociale si politice din Romania dupa cel de-al doilea razboi mondial. Strabunicii mei au fost deportati in Baragan, bunicul din partea mamei a fost deportat in Rusia, bunicul din partea tatalui s-a sinucis intr-un lagar de munca din Rusia, tatal meu a fost condamnat la munca fortata la Canalul Dunare-Marea Neagra, iar mama mea a fost exmatriculata din facultate. Ma preocupa eventualitatea unei recurente istorice precum si teoria “loialitatii familiale invizibile“ datorata generatiilor anterioare care poate sa ne predispuna sa traim si noi, in mod involuntar, suferintele si povestile lasate neterminate ale predecesorilor nostri (Anne Ancelin Schützenberger – Sindromul stramosilor”). 
Proiectul doreste sa integreze micro-universul si micro-istoria umana in macro-univers si macro-istorie si sa le aseze intr-o perspectiva mai larga, mai detasata. Macro-sistemele (reprezentate in acest proiect prin imagini ale cerului) continua sa functioneze, indiferent de starea de razboi sau pace, victorie sau pierdere, viata sau moarte. Multiplicarea imaginilor cerului creaza ”tipare de evenimente pozitive” (in contrast cu recurentele istorice ale ”evenimentelor tragice”) si de asemenea devin o ”terapie transgenerationala” proprie, usurand povara de a face parte din ”generatia post-memorie” (Marianne Hirsch).




 

9/30/2015

Art Symposium "Etnos" in Jimbolia, Romania - August 2015



The Csekonics Castle in Jimbolia, demolished in the 30ies.
old photo, digital processing, digital print, 60 x 80 cm, 2015

At the opening of the group exhibition at the Cultural Centre in Jimbolia.

 
In September the exhibition was presented at the Helios Gallery in Timisoara.


6/07/2015

"Awareness" - Central Station Strasbourg, France - May 16th, 2015


I was happy to see that one of the two works I have sent to the "Awareness" open call was selected to be the poster for the opening of the event.


Never the same Moment
In the last 5 years the main theme of interest in my artistic creation was memory analysis, interpretation and reconstruction. Never the same moment is a double self-portrait and self-analysis based on two photos shot at a distance of almost 30 years. It puts side to side and compares my perceptions and reactions to the world and how the world reflects and is translated in my feelings, then and now. I was in the Gare de Strasbourg, in December 1989, when I heard the news that the Revolution in Romania has succeeded. Suddenly, everything around me was extremely vivid and I had a feeling of consciousness and happiness I never experienced before. There, in the Gare de Strasbourg, a place where all journeys start and all roads cross, I decided to return to Romania. In time, the world has changed and we all have changed... leading to the nostalgic blue that I perceive now.


 Never the same Moment
photography - diptych
30 x 40 cm
digital print
2015

5/23/2015

"The Other" - Tettix Art Gallery Thessaloniki, Greece - March 28th, 2015



My Other Self
photo, 20 x 30 cm
digital print
2015

A long time ago, when this photo was taken, I was dreaming about traveling to Greece. It never happened, not even now… I created these works starting from this old photo of mine and I sent them to Greece. When "My Other Self" arrived in Thessaloniki it felt a little like being there...


SOLO SHOW: "Roots" - Stefan Jäger Museum Jimbolia, Romania - March 14th to May 25th, 2015


The exhibition was organized by the Museum Stefan Jäger in Jimbolia as part of a commemorative event dedicated to the German population in Romania who was deported to forced labor camps to Russia, in January 1945. Since both my grandparents have been deported to Russia and I have worked on a project about the history of our family the Museum invited me to present my works and to tell our story. Most of the works have already been presented in my solo show at the Helios Gallery in 2013.


         "Roots" is the story of my family from Tomnatic (Triebswetter) with roots in the French Lorraine and the German Schwarzwald of the 18th century. A history reconstructed from photographs, documents and letters found in an old box which I did not have the strength to open for many years. A late but absolutely overwhelming understanding of what "leaving", "separation", "uprooting" really means. The deportations of my grandparents to Russia, of my  great-grandparents to the Baragan, of my father to the Canal. The duplication which you have to go through when you are forced to live as dictated by HISTORY. But an equally deep understanding that you can return "home" even if there is no home waiting for you, that the power of faith and the survival of the Spirit will save you even when History seems to have taken you away every chance.  

An important component of this project was to send works all over the world, enabling the characters and their stories to travel freely, for the first time. So far works from this project have been presented in exhibitions in Romania (Timisoara, Iasi) or selected in competitions and international events (Rignac/ France, Evora/ Portugal, Madrid and the Canary Islands/ Spain, Klaipeda/ Lithuania, Lousã and Candal/ Portugal, Denton (TX)/ USA, Budapest/ Hungary, Thessaloniki and Veria/ Greece).


Family Tree, The Family, The History
digital print, 100 x 70 cm

Roots









Roots
digital print, 18 x 24 cm and 40 x 50 cm

Roots up to the Sky       
        About my grandfather Ioan Nicolae Renard I knew almost nothing. The only information I had was a photo and a sentence of the court declaring his death on 01.24.1946, at the labor camp nr.1651 in Ufalo/ Russia.
         One morning, a few months ago, I was thinking of him again. That he was probably mistakenly put on the list of 68,000 persons of German origin which were deported to Russia in January 1945, although he was of French nationality. And that he probably died of hunger, cold, exhaustion, helplessness.
        Suddenly, in the middle of my thoughts, a bird powerfully hit the window. I had never experienced something like this before and I wondered if it might be true that birds are messengers of Heaven. The same evening I received absolutely unexpected information about him ... I was told that actually, in that camp, my grandfather committed suicide.
Roots up to the Sky
digital print 40 x 50 cm

Dream Catcher
       The Yalta Treaty in February 1945 which put Romania under Soviet influence has dramatically changed the country's history and fate of many families. In 1945, at age 35, my maternal grandfather was deported to Russia along with his brother, his sister and other 68,000 people. A few days after he turned 43, my paternal grandfather committed suicide in labor camp nr.1651 in Ufalo/ Russia. In 1951, my great-grandfather and great-grandmother were 68 and 66 years old when they were deported to the Baragan, along with 40,320 other people, being forced to live in a hole dug in the ground. At 18 my father was sentenced to four years hard labor on the Danube–Black Sea Canal, where nearly 100,000 other people served many years for imaginary guilts. At 19, my mother was expelled from University, like many others in those days. Stories of life told in one phrase. But a phrase heavy as the world itself... or as an endless forest where you don’t feel tour roots anymore and you don't see the sky.



Dream Catcher
digital print 100 x 70 cm

Duplication




Duplication
digital print, 70 x 40 cm

 Farewell. Forever.
          
March 18, 1955
.  
        My grandmother Aurelia Prinz says Farewell to her father, Dominic Haman. Recently returned to Tomnatic after four years of deportation to the Baragan, with their house, factory and land confiscated, my great-grandparents were forced to leave Romania permanently. Although my great-grandfather lived until 1964, my grandmother was never allowed to see him again.

Farewell. Forever.
digital print, 100 x 70 cm
         Selected for the 41st edition of the Premio Internacional de Arte Grafico Carmen Arozena 2013 from Spain. Exhibited at the gallery Brita Prinz Arte in Madrid (what an extraordinary name coincidence!) in October 2013 and at the Palacio Casa Salazar of Santa Cruz from Palma/ Canary Islands in November 2013.


From Russia, with Love
             My grandmother carefully preserved all the letters my grandfather sent her from Russia in a wooden box with a painted lid. I had a hard time deciding if I could dare to read thoughts definitely not addressed to me or if they needed to remain forever closed in that box. I found a letter of encouragement addressed to my grandmother, hastily written on the day of his deportation to Russia; postcards with the ink already faded away but with the "censored" stamp still intense as in the first day; a photo from the camp, where only the eyes remained alive in my grandfather once so handsome; a letter on a parchment so thin that the letters on one side and the other overlapped in a new script, almost incomprehensible; small pieces of paper sewn to each other, to hold as many words as possible. I learned that in Russian "skoro domoi" means "going home soon" and that these words were always pronounced in the hope that one day this will really happen. And I understood that, at some point, the hardest thing in life can be to find a piece of paper to write home.

From Russia, with Love
digital print, 150 x 35 cm
Notre Père
 

Notre Père

digital print, 50 x 50 cm 

 

Works selected and presented at the International Project of Callygraphy & Art of Penmanship - Callygraphy & New Medias in Klaipeda / Lithuania, in September 2013.

 

  

Notre Père, Vaterunser, Miatyánk, Tatăl Nostru, Pai Nosso (the Lord's Prayer)
           My mother remembers that when she was a child, in Tomnatic the Lord's Prayer was still recited in  French. It was also recited in German, and Hungarian, and Romanian ... but those who felt their roots still alive in the Lorraine of the 18th century had it ancestrally placed it in their souls in French. They left the Lorraine in 1770 hoping for a better life in Banat. They definitely marked a place on the map and they were brutally marked by history. They have come a long way… as a hundred lives ... And the thought of HOME to which you will finally return helps you detach from the body that lives in a hole dug in the ground, pushes wagons in a mine coal, digs the canal, dies of homesickness, or simply dies. It helps you detach from the body and immerse yourself in your Spirit and recite the Lord's Prayer in French, in German, in Romanian. But it really does not matter in what language you say the words... the important thing is that it saves you. Wherever you are.
  

Notre Père

digital print, 100 x 70 cm 

 

          The works in Romanian were shown at the exhibition The Cross at the Golia Monastery in Iasi/ Romania, in October 2013. The ones in French were selected and presented at the International Project of Callygraphy & Art of Penmanship - Callygraphy & New Medias in Klaipeda / Lithuania, in September 2013.
           The works in Portuguese were created in memory of my father who wanted very much to see Portugal but died shortly before the trip. They were exhibited in Portugal, in the streets of Candal and distributed to the people in Lousã, as part of the Papergirl Portugal project in September 2013.

Images from the exhibition:



           

          

Each visitor was invited to choose and take home one of the works from the group The Lord's Prayer.

 

         

 

         

 

       

 

The entire event has been broadcasted by the Local Television Jimbolia:
or