On What Cannot Be Said – and What Animation Might Show

How can we convey something that almost defies expression? This question has quietly followed me throughout my work in animation — especially when trying to approach difficult and vulnerable themes. In Chapter 15 “Animated Traumas: The Films of Anita Killi”, published in the newly released book Radical Children’s Film and TV (Edinburgh University Press), animator and academic Ole Christoffer Haga¹ writes about three of my films – The Hedge of Thorns², Angry Man³ and Mother Didn’t Know⁴. He explores how animation, with its unique visual language, may offer a way to approach experiences that are often hard to put into words. I found his reflections moving, and I recognize many of the thoughts he brings forward.

The front cover of the book Radical Children’s Film and TV (Edinburgh University Press), released in June 2025

Trauma can be physical, scattered, and without a clear narrative. It often resists verbal expression⁵. In my own experience, animation has at times offered a certain openness. It allows me to work with mood, movement, and visual metaphors – not to explain, but perhaps to gently approach what cannot be directly spoken.

Haga points out how the contrast between different visual layers – such as paper, textile, or photography – can evoke unease in the viewer⁶. This is something I have tried to work with: using texture and rhythm as a way to reflect inner emotional states. Not to provoke, but to suggest. I can only hope these elements resonate with some viewers – as a subtle sense that something is not quite right, even if we don’t know exactly why.

Animation also offers a way to enter a child’s point of view, something I’ve wanted to explore in several of my films. When a room suddenly darkens, or a character changes shape, it doesn’t necessarily mean something has changed in the external world – but that it feels that way. I’ve tried to let animation reflect such inner experiences, without fixing them into one specific truth.

As Haga notes, it is not just about what is told, but how it is told. I have been interested in allowing time and silence to play a role – to let emotions unfold at their own pace. Perhaps this can offer space for viewers to be present with difficult emotions, without needing to fully understand them all at once⁷.

Working with trauma through animation is demanding. I feel a deep responsibility when approaching such topics. At the same time, I hope the films – when received with care – can offer a small sense of relief. Not by giving answers, but by making space. By listening. And by meeting pain with respect.

Haga’s article will be a valuable contribution to my continued work on the films in development Blind Octopus and our feature film Christmas Survivors.

For those who are interested in reading more from Haga’s Chapter 15 – or exploring the wider context of Radical Children’s Film and Television, edited by Noel Brown – I warmly recommend the full book, which is divided into five parts and contains 21 chapters. You can find more info about the book here.

Footnotes:

¹ Ole Christoffer Haga is an associate professor in 3D modelling and animation at the Games School, Inland Norway University of Applied Sciences, and a PhD candidate at NTNU. He is the author of Chapter 15 in Radical Children’s Film and TV (2024), where he discusses my films in light of trauma and visual storytelling.

² Killi, Anita. The Hedge of Thorns (Tornehekken). Animated short film, 2001.

³ Killi, Anita. Angry Man (Sinna Mann). Animated short film, 2009.

⁴ Killi, Anita. Mother Didn’t Know (Mor visste ingenting). Animated short film, 2020.

⁵ Van der Kolk, Bessel. The Body Keeps the Score. New York: Penguin, 2014.

⁶ Haga, Ole Christoffer. “Animated Traumas: The Films of Anita Killi,” in Radical Children’s Film and TV, Edinburgh University Press, 2024, pp. 210–211.

⁷ Marks, Laura U. The Skin of the Film: Intercultural Cinema, Embodiment, and the Senses. Duke University Press, 2000.