Remmert’s ‘Stars & Ashes’ Elegiac at The Project Room

You can Google the car accident that killed Urte Remmert’s husband.

It pops up tragic, colourless, matter of fact and wholly in contrast to the blood and bones, crosses and despair currently on display as ‘Stars & Ashes’ at The Project Room.

In the centre, the calm in the storm of a flurry of bittersweet collages, furious charcoal drawings and memento mori, Remmert – the accident’s sole survivor – constructs a memorial of healing and acceptance.

A whirl of paper stars, ash and molten remnants from the scene of the collision in which she lost her most honest and admired critic who passed away alongside five more about 35 kilometres from Usakos in 2015.

Four years of pain, remembrance, sorrow, solace-seeking and trauma fill the space.

At once elegiac and uplifting, Remmert recalls skid marks in fiery scenes of bloody roads and crosses, a figure thrown out in a blue and black maelstrom and a life torn apart even as the cracks let the gold-leaf light in.

“I have been struggling with the thought of life and death and the meaning of it all,” says the Swakopmund-based artist, whose career spans more than 42 years as both an art educator and practicing artist.

“Charcoal was the first medium to resemble the fire that consumed the two cars and the people in them besides me. Collage was meaningful, as I could rip and tear the paper, overlay and fold and use old writings, sheet music, burnt diary pages, gold leaf, pieces of molten glass from the accident site and torn up old artwork.”

‘Stars & Ashes’ is a collection of fragments.

Mimicking a life ripped asunder then painstakingly put together again in its collages, ‘Stars & Ashes’ is an intimate exploration of the artist’s grief, grappling and ultimately coming out on the other side of her trauma through the logbook littered with psalms, quotes, lyrics, drawings, inspiration and the ideas one can witness tenderly reflected in the space.

“This writing down and sorting, reading and meditating has helped me not only to heal my wounds, but also resulted in four angry charcoal drawings and 18 collages – some colourful, some in monochromatic tones,” says Remmert, who in her early morning meditations mourns not only her husband, but also her mother, three close friends, both her brothers and a little school girl from her Grade 3 class before teaching art at her home studio.

Once an artist concerned with issues of gender-based violence, poverty, intolerance and the exploitation of the environment, since the accident, art has become balm, therapy and catharsis in the face of the unimaginable, the trauma and the question of life and death.

To Remmert, this deeply personal expression of trauma is “a healing process in which my whole being is involved, the human condition is questioned and finally my mind finds liberation and redemption”.

In the affecting exhibition’s snatches of poetry by both Remmert and the greats, in the beautiful collages and figures bent in grief or supplication, the artist hopes to inspire viewers to talk about death and dying, mourning and forgiveness and the kind of lives we should strive to lead.

“Above all, our everyday troubles, our disappointments, loss and deep pain, there is one eternal wisdom that makes our life worth living and complete: To love and to care,” she says.

“I have loved, so I have lived.”

In an age of information overload, Sunrise is The Namibian’s morning briefing, delivered at 6h00 from Monday to Friday. It offers a curated rundown of the most important stories from the past 24 hours – occasionally with a light, witty touch. It’s an essential way to stay informed. Subscribe and join our newsletter community.