was taught early on in life that art should be functional. Art should tell a story and the art of storytelling – a dying art it seems – was fully accomplished in ‘The Wounded Woman Project, A Martyrdom of Life’ and for that, I am most grateful.
I was taught early on in life that art should be functional. Art should tell a story and the art of storytelling – a dying art it seems – was fully accomplished in ‘The Wounded Woman Project, A Martyrdom of Life’ and for that, I am most grateful.
A martyrdom of life, dedicated to all the wounded women in the world. A biography, a tragedy and the overcome. From despair to triumph.
At the age of eight years she was raped by one of her mother’s steadily changing friends. Her mother committed suicide at age of 30. The public welfare put her to a boarding school, and soon she and her sister were passed on to foster parents on a farm where both were treated like ‘cheap farm helpers’, not like beloved kids. Thereafter she went to Vienna, Austria’s capital – a young, inexperienced, but pretty girl from the country side exposed to the jungle of Austria’s largest city. Very soon she was introduced to the wrong people and spent some time in a gang. In her twenties she was married to a very violent guy who was drunken seven days a week and who spent most of his time in prison. He bashed her in a regular way, broke her nose, threw her out of the window and tried her to kill in the bathtub. She survived four assassinations by him and decided to escape together with their the 5 years old son.
Her husband got mad, splashed a bottle of fuel at her and lighted her up. She incurred third-degree burns on her whole upper body. Her husband was put into prison and killed himself; or likely was killed by other prisoners. After years of hospitalization she decided to start to work as a nurse by herself in Austria’s largest hospital, helping others. Besides her day job she’s modelling as a semi-professional. Up to her 40’s there have been only very few sunny days in her life. Twenty years later she wrote her auto-biography entitled ‘Willkommen in der Hölle’ (Welcome to Hell).
I was taught early on in life that art should be functional. Art should tell a story and the art of storytelling – a dying art it seems – was fully accomplished in ‘The Wounded Woman Project, A Martyrdom of Life’ and for that, I am most grateful. It is beautiful work and for sure, many will see it as an exploration of eroticism or artsy photography without delving deeper into the symbolism or the actual story. What struck me is the photographer, Reinfried Marass, actually did the work and set out to show or tell her story through photographs. No flinching, no camera games, just images filled with symbolism that will lead you from despair to triumph – Angela Odom, State & Lake.
Reinfried Marass paints the inner world of her on a photographic canvas. The photos make you feel her experiences. He takes you on a trip through her life of despair, hard knocks, wrecks and then on to reflection, life wisdom & exhilaration for living the life of a lady – Muse Memo. Amazingly beautiful and vivid photos. The story is as compelling as the photos. He captures much depth in his photos and has a genuine artistic eye which allows the viewer as closest to the soul of his subject as possible – Cher, writer.
Provoking work that invites you into the world of Reinfried Marass. Beautiful Art Photos. I found the story on ‘The Wounded Woman Project, A Martyrdom of Life’ very moving, especially as a woman. I find Reinfried has shot her with a delicate and insightful hand. In the photo of ‘Welcome to Hell’, it seems to hold an inner eye. The wall is broken like her on the side that is darker. The other side is less broken and is near the light. She, still touching the darker side is now mainly on the lighter side and is facing the light, a sign of hope. She reminds me a bit of Edith Piaf, who also had a very difficult life. I thank Reinfried Marass for sharing his eye of the world – Sharon.
She sits on the dirty ground, torso propped against a peeling wall, head pinned there, hair weeping onto her face, her arms spread apart to the sides. A brown wrapping paper shudders in her left hand, the fingers of her right clasp a detached steering wheel as if clutching the wrist of a toddler, who’s veered off the pavement.
Her black heel has slid sideways off her foot and panders the high arch with the leer of the clinging strap. Her breasts hang like large medals beneath her pleated top, and what of her vulva, is it ripped at the seams like the white cotton skirt that barely covers it, what of her womb, tender core of her being, the cigarette butts clustered around her other foot, a mass of sperm about the ovum, the full beer packs that lie beside her like small coffins, does her body yearn upwards, will she make a helix of herself as she did between many men’s sheets? – Annie Rink | Broken Barbie Doll.
The materials fall in this tableau, for the eye to care only for the overall beauty of this captured energy of body within bodies within the photographer’s eye, the atoms are rearranging themselves to his click, summing their dynamic, to form a tableau within the tableau, the whole is showing through the cracks of body, like dawn’s cracks in the pitch-dark-night. The whole is captured here and forever, beyond whatever camouflage of body within bodies of nature, of man-made decay, of cracks and mend, of fire, and rebirth. Bodies are nothing but a mirage. The creator puts us face to face with our wholeness, challenging: “Who says there is a break, what is a break? When there is nothing but these kaleidoscopic atoms at play, I play their mirages back and forth to life.” – Raja Alem | A Click Of An Atom.