“A quietly powerful theatrical ritual that invites reflection, witness and deep
listening.”
Kate Gaul
4 Stars
Venue: Carriageworks
Moogahlin Performing Arts
There is something quietly ceremonial about entering Healing Scars. The audience is gathered in a semi-circle around an ochre-covered performance space, the scent of eucalyptus lingering in the air as Warren Mason’s haunting live music hangs over the room. Before a word is spoken, the work has established an atmosphere of reflection.
Having first seen Healing Scars as a work-in-development during Sydney Festival in 2024, it is rewarding to witness how confidently the piece has matured. The visual and sonic worlds have deepened, allowing the performance to breathe without sacrificing its intimacy.
Mason begins by drawing what resembles a topographical map across the floor in ochre. It is a deceptively simple image that becomes the foundation of the performance. Karen Norris‘ sophisticated lighting and Alex Moss‘ beautifully integrated projections gradually animate the markings, transforming the floor into a living landscape. As performers emerge and move through this shifting environment, the work unfolds with an intimacy that feels deeply personal and remarkably fragile.
Rather than presenting a conventional narrative, Healing Scars invites the audience into an act of witnessing.
The title prepares us for what follows, but Healing Scars resists easy definitions of healing. While the atmosphere is undeniably beautiful, there is a persistent mournful edge that reminds us that healing is neither linear nor complete. Gentle, ritualised gestures are taught, repeated and shared, tracing connections across generations rather than attempting to resolve them.
Yuwaalaraay composer and performer Warren Mason, of Tin Camp Studios, constructs an intricate sonic landscape by looping the natural sounds of his homeland with the haunting strains of guitar, spoken word in multiple languages and the songs of his Old People. The result is less a musical score than an act of remembering.
This tapestry of sound is interwoven with choreography by Jasmine Gulash (Gubbi Gubbi), performed with quiet authority by Jo Clancy (Wiradjuri) and dance artists Lily Shearer (Murrawarri/Ngemba) and Kiarn Doyle (Dunghutti). Their movement carries an understated dignity, tracing pathways that seem to lead simultaneously across Country and back through time. The choreography never illustrates the music; instead, movement, sound and image converse, each deepening the resonance of the others.
Healing Scars is not interested in telling a story in the traditional sense. Instead, it asks audiences to slow down, observe and listen. Those expecting a conventional narrative may find its meditative rhythm and ritualised repetition quietly demanding, yet it is precisely this commitment to ceremony over dramatic progression that gives the work its emotional integrity. It is theatre that invites contemplation rather than resolution, offering an experience that lingers long after the final image fades.
At just under an hour, the work understands the power of restraint. It never outstays its welcome, instead allowing audiences the time and space to contemplate memory, grief and resilience. Healing Scars does not seek to explain healing. Instead, it creates the conditions for reflection and witness. By the time the final image fades, what remains is not a neat conclusion but the privilege of having shared in
something deeply personal, generous and profoundly respectful.
Reflection and honour are the words that linger long after leaving the theatre.
Healing Scars is less a performance to be watched than an experience to be shared, and it feels genuinely special simply to have been present in the room.
Photography by Jamie James
Kate Gaul, Theatre Now
