Walk With Me (Rosskur #2), Thibaut Vandame

Thibaut Vandame (b. 1993)
Rosskur #2, (2023)
Video of the work,
Charcoal on Paper
"Walk With Me"
21/7/2023
Walk with me
As the past leaves
Talk with me
Remember to breath
As the past leaves
Fall and I sigh
Remember to breath and
Feel alive
Fall and I sigh
Embrace me on the way up
Feeling alive
Feeling luck
Embrace me on the way up-
Rooted to a new pot where I’m
Feeling lucky
As I step and stride
Rooted to a new pot where I’m
Expanding; handing me a second chance
As I step in stride
All the time
Expanding, lend me your hand
You walk with me
All the time
Even when I stand
"Walk With Me" is a Pantoum I wrote in response to my performance art, Rosskur #2, which I created while attending the Male Survivor Workshop led by Mike Lew at Dillington House, July 2023.
The workshop included various healing exercises, one of which encouraged exploring creativity. In this exercise, I engaged in performance art by walking across a long sheet of paper, about 2 ft wide and 40 ft long, with charcoal sticks under my feet. As I slid my feet so as to ensure the charcoal remained on the page, the charcoal left marks along my path, revealing imprints of my toes, pebbles, leaves, and brickwork beneath. At one point, another survivor noticed the wind lifting the paper and helped by grounding it with his body. Eventually, the paper split into two, and I continued walking on the second section while the first remained grounded. When the charcoal broke beneath my feet, I stopped, leaving the end of the paper blank. After, the fellow survivor described the work as “Rosskur,” meaning an object left to the elements.
One of the most challenging beliefs I’ve had to confront in my recovery from CSA has been the feeling of irreversibility-the idea that the damage is permanent. Phrases like “Scarred for Life” and “Damaged Goods” reinforce the belief that the effects of abuse and it's legacy are lifelong and inescapable. With this work, I sought to reflect on and challenge that notion.
Initially, I intended to complete the piece as a mindful exercise, hoping to ground myself by walking barefoot. Refusing to lift my feet would symbolize my feelings of condemnation, while walking on the delicate charcoal would equally symbolize how I have had to "tread lightly" since the abuse. Documenting the movement became a way to tangibly reflect on my recovery journey. However, much of the symbolism that emerged from the performance was unexpected; the survivor grounding the paper embodied the importance of support in recovery; the paper tearing in half represented the possibility of detachment from the past; the blank end suggested that the future held more yet to be written; the marks of the charcoal reflected both my movement and the world around me, thus the polarizing distinction between survivor and non-survivor broke down. I came to believe that, with the support of my peers, I, or at least some part of me, could move forward and outlast and outgrow the recovery process.
Attending a survivor workshop felt surreal, something I hadn’t even considered a few years prior. After trying various means of recovery-calling helplines, visiting my GP, undergoing one-on-one therapy, and attending group sessions-I often felt I was just “going through the motions”. This is understandable if we consider that both the pathologized symptoms of abuse, and modalities of recovery from it are equally prescribed.
The workshop, however, introduced a fresh potential for recovery and Rosskur #2 is a testament of that. On the train, I spoke openly with a fellow passenger disclosing my purpose for traveling. This conversation allowed the passenger to share their own recent loss and challenges, affirming the value of taking healthy risks. Biking through the rain from Crewkerne station to Dillington House, about 10 miles away, added to the sense of journey and independence. Activities like “the Bag” and sharing stories in small unsupervised groups, gave a distinct sense of a non-prescriptive path to recovery. While all modalities of recovery can induce pressure to see results, “Rosskur #2” allowed me to remain present, and note change was possible, if not inevitable.
Before leaving the workshop, I displayed my work in the conference room, where a clinical training day was held, which is where the video of this work was documented.
After creating “Rosskur #2,” I wrote the poem “Walk With Me”. “Walk With Me” is a Pantoum, a poetic form often used to explore grief because of its cyclical nature. The form requires lines 2 and 4 from stanza 1 to be repeated as lines 1 and 3 in the next stanza, though they can be slightly altered. Despite its repetition, I found relief in this structure because it provided an organized, deliberate way to work through complex emotions-mirroring the support and healing I experienced during the workshop and the performance art.