“Our citizenship is in heaven”

In June 2024, following an 8-week rehearsal period, 16 performers from migrant and refugee background came together to form intricate patterns symbolising care, nurture, and love. Through a series of gestural movements, they communicated in a language that opened empathic channels, revealing layers of physical and emotional strength, resilience, lineage, and faith.

The performance unfolded through a blend of structured games, improvisation, and rehearsed sequences. Known hymns intertwine with vocal improvisations, harmonizing in a celebration of unity and worship. Movement and songs became vessels for communication.

Exploring the depths of the human experience, the performers delved into the nurturing, caring aspects of their being, unravelling what is stored within their bodies. Boundaries blurred as bodies transform into entire landscapes, symbolising the interconnectedness of humanity and the shared experiences that bound us together.

The piece echoed the verse “our citizenship is in heaven” (Philippians 3:20), inviting contemplation on our divine connection and unity beyond earthly boundaries.

Conceived by Amanda Camenisch and Therese Westin. Performed and directed by: Abimbola, Dotty, Elizabeth Addoi, Florence Musa, Freida C. McNeil, Funmilda Olojo, Grace Ade, Grace Owolabi, Jemilat, Kristina, Ladun Mary Oguntoyinbo, Leo, Ms Jumoke, Margaret, Nada Alharbi, Ola Fagbemi, Pham B Long, Priyanka G Geriya, Sharon, Sungyeon Kim, Vanessa Mirza, Zara.

Performance commissioned by Counterpoints Arts as part of our work on the arts, mental health and displacement.

Working with sound, textiles, sculpture and poetry as art-making and healing practices, Amanda Camenisch and Therese Westin develop collaborative projects that centre the experiences of its participants through a trauma-informed approach. Focusing on facilitating holistic spaces and experiences that become conduits for artistic expression, the artists tend to both individual and collective needs in the process of developing projects and creating artworks with various private and public outcomes.

In this interview with Counterpoints, Amanda and Therese reflect on this work and their wider practice.

What does care mean to you as socially engaged artists?

Amanda

Care is at the core of everything. In a way everything circles around care for me. I don’t really know what it means to be a socially engaged artist, or what it means to be socially engaged in a true sense. But I know what care is. The people we work with know what care is. It is simple yet deep, and if something is like that you know it is true, in the sense that it is a shared reality. I think it’s also important to think about where your care is at home. It’s not so much care for details in the translation of ideas, individual and collective ideas, but care in making sure everyone has the opportunity to extend their care into the project and others.

Therese

There is hopefully no such distinction between myself as an artist and myself as a person, a mother, daughter, a friend or a colleague. Care is what I strive to place at the centre. Care is light and easy, it is a flow that nourishes in both directions. I feel it is a misunderstood concept that has a certain air of caution around it. There is an idea of ‘caring too much’ that seems very strong. That too much of it can lead to depletion. Speaking from personal experience, I have of course experienced depletion, exhaustion and fatigue when being in relation to others, but I question whether or not I was really engaged in care at that point. In hindsight, I think not. I was fearful about my caring ability and too involved with my own experience to be able to care properly. I have come to realise that when done properly, care is a release of self that is incredibly freeing, not heavy or tiring at all.

What does true co-creation look like? How does it change when you place mental health and wellbeing at the heart of your project?

Amanda

Co-creation is something that emerges if you make space for it. As artists it is about a letting go of the “I” and entering the “We”, in ways that allow for others to take charge and to make something their own. In our work the difficulty is often to find the balance between facilitating a space that is safe and sound, that stimulates positive experiences and engages in meaningful yet gentle exercises, whilst allowing for trauma and pain to appear. Rather than pushing these emotions away, we let them unfold and gently guide them back to the center through embodied mindfulness in collective creative expression. As artists, you let go, but you continue to hold the container if that makes sense.

Therese

I am sure that co-creation can take many forms, but for us it has often taken the form of me and Amanda creating an initial vessel, a container or a frame if you like, where participants can then birth other forms. These materials, the vessel and the various forms, give birth to the co-creation. It is not always necessary that we all have the same vision, in fact, this can become an impossibility given the size of the groups sometimes, what is necessary is that we work with the fabric of trust, respect, love and care. Everything else needs to stay elastic.

What does an ethics of care look like in participatory arts projects when working with communities that have experienced displacement?

Therese

Personally I don’t feel that there is a separate ethics that applies to people who have experienced displacement. It has the same parameters as elsewhere, the only difference being that some people need a higher form of nurture, a higher form of care. To care for someone is always preceded by a stage of listening to what that constitutes for that one particular individual, without it care becomes presumptuous and even intrusive. To care for someone, displaced or not, is to respect that person’s autonomy, it is to learn about what care means to them and to apply it accordingly. When working in a group setting, it also means that as facilitators you need to give space for the group to nurture each other, to stay silent enough for those healing vibrations to resound.

What does good practice look/sound/feel like?

Amanda

I would say it feels authentic! When you build a platform for someone to express their true self, you’ve achieved something meaningful. If participants can take your methods and structures, make them their own, and use them to bring forward what they want to make visible, audible, or felt by an audience, then you’ve successfully provided a tool for them. We don’t dictate how these tools should be used; we simply offer them.

Therese

It is a very beautiful experience and one that cannot easily be put into words. I never would have known had we not done this work, how deeply rewarding it is to invite someone into a room they never thought they would enter into, the same room you never thought you would be able to create, the experience of crossing that bridge together becomes an embodiment of trust and faith. And you share that experience forever, a bond is created between you that feels very loving. I feel like I have become more trusting, more loving, more open as a person, because of this work, thanks to the people we have worked with.

What are some of the challenges you face? How can organisations support you when working with communities?

Amanda

Where to begin? This work is incredibly demanding in both time and energy. While it’s deeply rewarding in terms of building human connections and a meaningful artistic practice, the financial side is, quite frankly, unsustainable. Often, we find ourselves in a difficult situation: funding runs out, yet the project—and the people we support—still need attention, care, and ongoing engagement. We’ve found ourselves in this position many times, and stepping into this work feels like signing an unspoken moral contract. Despite our experience and caution, we’ve both had to step back at times because the work left us too vulnerable to hold space for others effectively. This situation won’t change for artists in this field unless the government commits to greater investment in health and well-being resources for those impacted by trauma and displacement. Artists cannot fill the gaps in services that governments neglect. Our contributions are limited. I’ve often approached centers to offer alternative healing services, only to be told the funding isn’t there. Healing is needed, and it’s needed urgently!

Therese

The jarring combination of process-based work within a time-based reality that is committed to producing an outcome, presents as an ongoing challenge that cannot be helped without both more time and more money. So much more work is needed in order to hold groups together than the funding provides for, and we as artists end up paying from our own pocket, an unsustainable situation that leads to financial burnout. It would be a great outcome if these longer term works could ultimately be salaried positions that artists can apply for, failing that, I would love to see institutions offering provision for truly continuous engagement with their communities.

How does art lend itself to healing?

Amanda

Healing is a journey of self-discovery and integration, a process in which we come to know and embrace our whole self. Through art—and more specifically, the methodology Therese and I have developed over the past four years working with people who have experienced severe trauma—our work provides a way for individuals to move beyond the initial immobilizing effects of trauma and shock. It offers a portal into what might be possible, real, or even desirable. By engaging the imagination and mind-heart connection, and through our focus on performance, voice work, and healing movement practices, we help open the energies in the body, mind, and spirit. These are powerful tools, but they are only a part of the healing process.

For some, healing might come through psychotherapy, for others, through holistic or spiritual practices—or even medication. As an artist and healer, I’ve often questioned whether I’m in the right role. Here I am, funded to facilitate a performance project, yet knowing my healing practice might offer some participants a more lasting impact on their health. Interestingly, when I offered private healing sessions to participants free of charge, many declined. They valued what we were already doing together so much that they didn’t want to risk altering that space or what it offered them. This response reassured me that I was in the right place, supporting people as they took their first steps toward envisioning a path to healing. Whether in therapy, holistic practices, or other approaches people first need to be present, at least to some degree to be able to receive it. Many people we initially worked with were too overwhelmed by shock and trauma to take that step. The level of distress and disconnection we encountered was more profound than we anticipated. Yet, over the years, we have seen many of our participants make significant strides forward, which they attribute to the work we did together. But who will support them on their next steps?

Therese

Art is the fabric that we have used in order to build community and connection to self, most of the time, the people that come to the sessions are already engaged in some form of art, even if they might word it differently. It could be in the form of musical worship, movement, cooking for others, caring for others as leaders in their communities for example. To place yourself and your expression in a new unknown setting is to find more of yourself, to witness others do the same is humbling and heart opening. We are here to care for each other, to put it simply, and this is one of the ways in which this can take form.

What have been some of the biggest learning moments?

Amanda

How long it actually takes to do this work. You stop thinking in weeks and start thinking in years basically.
But also many lessons in self growth and self care, how easy it is to start feeling cynical about the work you do in the face of the challenge, you really have to know your “why”.