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29. Stevie Fieldsend

For Sarah, 2023

metal, glass, stocking

 

 

All the little deaths she was forced to experience:
the death of love, of worth, of meaning.

Sometimes I wonder who I could have been with a
good enough upbringing–someone else, that is for sure.

When I talk about small deaths, I mean the death of selves in the aftermath of neglect and trauma.

I create to excavate and touch her face.
I create to integrate and put her back in place.

It is a ritual, a gestural reenactment, a womb memorial;
the lovechild of profound sadness and shame, crying,
because she needs to be seen not buried.

About the Artist

 

Stevie Fieldsend has New Zealand, Samoan and Chinese ancestory. She lives on Gadigal Land in Sydney, NSW.

@steviefieldsend_

 

 

Transcription

Hi, my name is Stevie Fieldsend. First and foremost I’d like to acknowledge the Dharug First Nations People and Country on which my work stands on — thank you for having me. I’d also like to mention that this audio contains information about childhood trauma and neglect, so a trigger warning there.

The title of this work is For Sarah. This work is about living with complex post-traumatic stress disorder, which I’ve had for most of my life due to early developmental trauma and neglect that continued throughout my childhood. It’s about mourning and honouring the hidden wounds I carry in a visceral, vulnerable, and visual offering. It’s about grieving what I never had — this sensation of longing; of wanting to be held; of being seen; of being tethered to this world; of belonging. It's about the fact that my childhood was stolen — my meaning was taken from me time and time again and I am forever changed because of it.

My trajectory in life was altered, my brain neural pathways damaged, and my body hurt. And, as most children do, I blamed myself and took on the shame that did not belong to me. So when I hear that line, “my trauma does not define me”, I wonder what you are talking about? I get the sentiment but the reality is lost on me.

I’ve often felt silenced when trying to talk about child abuse on every level, be that socially, culturally, personally, or artistically — and of course when it was happening. There is this pressure to shut up about it and just get on with it and operate normally (whatever that is), and the truth is, I am. I am a normal sum of what happened to me — and no one seemed to have the rule book when looking after me as a kid.

So this work is a type of “un-shaming”; a discard of what does not belong to me; a handing over; a conclusion to an unfinished story that was told over 40 years ago; a standing up for myself to say “I matter to me” and to invite and welcome all the little mes back home, because they’ve been in exile for so long because I just couldn’t bear to look at her or be her.

It’s about story-telling, truth-telling, and creating a narrative to both integrate unprocessed trauma and shift out of survival mode into a more embodied state of groundedness, softness, and compassion for myself, first and foremost, and then for everything that happened and everyone that hurt me. I’m not talking about forgiveness, I’m talking about acceptance — radical acceptance and a compassionate understanding of why and how people hurt each other. And I guess, coming from a trans-generational viewpoint, it’s kinda like the gift that keeps on giving until someone wants to break the cycle — a massive love-deficit that rolls on indefinitely until we can look at the truths reflectively without blame, face ourselves and each other bravely and honestly, and stop creating more pain though repetitive ignorance and chronic reaction/projection.

My hope is that this work elicits a sense of empathy and compassion from both myself and from the viewer for the abused and forgotten child and to hold space for how people become who they are.

So here I am in my fragility, holding truths that sprung from my lips and lungs, rocking back and forth, rocking back and forth, gently in the wind. I carry her as I carry me underneath this mother tree and together we see each other clearly; I am Stevie and she was Sarah, and together we’re the same person.

Thank you for spending time with me.