“Invisible Wars and Visible Scars: Meet Michael Podgorac”

Welcome Mikal, we are very excited to have you today with us to discuss about your work.

Who is Michael Podgorac and how did the passion for creating begin?

I am an artist, filmmaker, and producer based in Vienna, also known as Mikal Maldoror. Born in Germany and raised in Bosnia and Herzegovina in a working-class immigrant family (so-called Gastarbeiter), I became aware early on of the impact of displacement, particularly due to the racism I experienced in both BiH and Germany. This deeply shaped my understanding of identity and belonging, and it continues to influence my artistic perspective. The war in BiH profoundly shaped my political views, fueling a need to express complex emotions through art: because I believe that art can be a way to overcome the pain and traumas of war.

My love for film began in childhood, especially when video stores opened in BiH in the 1980s. I would watch four or five films a day, becoming a regular at my local rental shop. This passion led me to explore global cinema movements like the Yugoslav New Wave, influenced by the French New Wave and Italian Neorealism. Unlike those who may have had an easier path into filmmaking, my journey was slower and more personal. My first privilege was having a father who loved technology, which gave me early access to film equipment. My second privilege was being immersed in DIY culture—through music, books, and especially comics—where I learned how to draw and tell stories. My third, non-privileged experience, was losing my brother during the war in BiH. He was an artist, and processing that loss is also the theme in this film. It took me a long time to come to terms with his absence—if that’s even possible—but def. art and the passion for the creating became the way I could keep his spirit alive and with me. Today, my work focuses on themes of equality, resilience, displacement, pluralistic remembrance, and the struggles of marginalized communities, with the goal of amplifying voices that are too often unheard.

Can you tell us about your previous work ?
Throughout my career, I have focused on creating work that reflects the intersection of art, culture, and social engagement. I have directed and produced several experimental short films and music videos, often centered around themes of (trans)migration and cultural diversity. My work is rooted in Vienna’s DIY and underground scenes, where I co-founded the art association ‘‘LINE IN’’and the experimental gallery ‘‘AU.’’My recent films, including Permanently Temporary (2024), AUZINE - Vienna`s Underground by Mikal Maldoror (2021), and the documentary short Lange Weg der Gastarbeit (2016), explore the experiences of marginalized communities and social realities. Over the last three years, I have also served as the artistic co-director of the initiative ‘‘Bunker 16 - Erinnern in Zukunft’’ which focuses on pluralistic remembrance culture. From 2019 to 2023, I was the curator and production manager for the WIENWOCHE festival. I believe art is a bridge between communities, a way to overcome trauma, and a powerful tool for social change. By amplifying the voices of those often unheard, I aim to bring attention to the emotional and societal challenges faced by marginalized groups.

"Permanently Temporary" blends personal, fictional, and social elements. Can you tell us how your own experiences influenced Miška’s journey, and how you balanced the personal with the fictional in crafting his character?

"Permanently Temporary" is deeply influenced by my own experiences as a migrant, dealing with identity, belonging, and displacement. Like Miška, I left Bosnia and Herzegovina carrying the emotional scars of war, trying to build a life in Vienna. Although Vienna became my second home, I often feel suspended between two worlds—never fully at ease here, yet no longer connected to where I came from. The film is based on my dissertation, "Unterwegs zur Transmigration — Eine interdisziplinäre Darstellung der transnationalen Migrationspraktiken," which I wrote in the early 2010s under the supervision of Univ.-Prof. Dr. Erol Yıldız at the University of Vienna. My academic research delved into the psychological and emotional challenges faced by Eastern European migrants in Austria and Germany, addressing themes like xenophobia, systematic demoralization, and the search for identity. Miška’s journey in the film mirrors much of this research, but also incorporates fictional elements to create a broader narrative. Balancing the personal with the fictional allowed me to tell a more universal story. In reality, the challenges of migration are often harsher than what’s depicted in the film. The fiction adds a layer of romanticism, softening some of the difficulties while highlighting resilience and hope.

CONVERSATION ABOUT: ‘‘Permanently Temporary’’

The concept of being "permanently temporary" is a powerful metaphor. Could you elaborate on what that phrase means to you and how it captures the migrant experience in Vienna or beyond?

The concept of being "permanently temporary" speaks to the paradox that many migrants face: a life caught in between, where nothing feels certain or stable, yet this instability becomes the permanent condition of their existence. For me, the phrase reflects the state of limbo that so many migrants live in. In Vienna, and many other places, migrants often find themselves in a situation where they are legally allowed to stay temporarily—through short-term visas or precarious jobs—but never fully allowed to belong or integrate into society. This "permanent temporariness" is not just a legal or bureaucratic issue, but a psychological and emotional state. It creates a constant feeling of displacement, a lack of security, and a sense of not being rooted in one place. For people like Miška, the protagonist in Permanently Temporary, this condition is overwhelming. He is stuck between two worlds—his homeland, which is scarred by war, and his new home, where he is met with xenophobia, precarious work conditions, and endless bureaucratic hurdles. He can't go back, but he also can't fully move forward.

In many ways, this phrase also captures the universal experience of migration. Migrants are often viewed as “guests,” never fully accepted as part of the fabric of their new society. Their futures are uncertain, their status fragile, and their sense of belonging is constantly in question. "Permanently temporary" encapsulates this feeling of always being in transition, yet never arriving.

The process of making an indie film often comes with unique challenges. What were some of the biggest obstacles you faced during the production of Permanently Temporary, and how did you overcome them?

Making Permanently Temporary as an independent film, like every indie project, was a journey full of challenges. As Cosimo Nando, the assistant director and producer on the film, often said: "All the forces in this world will try to stop you from making it." 😊

The very limited budget was a major obstacle, which is often the case in indie filmmaking. With no significant financial backing, we had to rely on the dedication and passion of the cast and crew, many of whom volunteered their time and resources. This forced us to be creative in securing locations, managing equipment, and handling production needs.

Maintaining the emotional depth of the story within the constraints of a tight schedule was another challenge. The film tackles heavy themes like migration, trauma, and identity, and I wanted these to be portrayed authentically. To overcome this, I gave the actors room to improvise and incorporate their personal experiences into their performances, which allowed us to capture genuine emotions, even with limited time.

Post-production also presented difficulties, particularly with editing and sound design. However, coming from a DIY background, I'm used to working in precarious conditions, although I don’t promote that as a standard. Having come a long way just to get to the point of making the film, I was mentally prepared. By following the DIY motto "Make films right now, with what you have!" and with the help of a committed team, we managed to stay true to the film’s message and bring it to life.

The film features a cast of characters who represent various facets of the migrant experience. How did you approach casting the supporting roles to ensure that the ensemble reflected the diversity and complexity of these experiences? Were there any unexpected moments during shooting where the actors brought something new or surprising to their roles that changed how you envisioned a scene?

I focused on casting actors who could authentically portray the emotional depth of the characters, regardless of their professional experience. What mattered most was their ability to bring raw emotion and real-life struggles to the screen. The diversity of the cast was essential to reflect the complexity and richness of the migrant experience, spanning different cultures, backgrounds, and life stories.

It was crucial for me that the cast mirrored the diversity of our society. Miška, the protagonist, was played by Alexandru Cosarca, an Austrian with Romanian roots, who brought his own experiences with homophobia into the role of a Bosnian migrant. This added layers of intensity and authenticity to Miška’s emotional journey. Additionally, Vivian Crespo Zurita, a real-life activist and performer, contributed her own personal activism to the film. The signs she holds in the movie, such as "Where is my visa?" are part of her everyday life, further grounding the film in lived realities.

One particularly unexpected moment happened during the embassy scene. Initially, Goran Novakovic was cast for the role, but due to personal issues, he had to drop out last minute. Ilija Pilipovic stepped in and improvised a line based on his own experience, adding emotional depth to the scene in a way I hadn’t envisioned. Another standout was Nikola Kolja Erceg, who played a younger version of Miška with a vulnerability that perfectly embodied the film’s themes of trauma and resilience.

This collaborative approach allowed the actors to infuse their personal stories into their roles, making Permanently Temporary a shared expression of the migrant experience.

What is the central message or feeling you want audiences to walk away with after watching your work ?
The central message I want the audience, particularly those from the dominant society, in this case Austrians, to take away after watching the movie is a deeper understanding of the emotional and psychological complexities migrants face. The film aims to shed light on the invisible struggles of displacement, the constant fight for belonging, and the resilience needed to survive in a world that often views migrants as "others". Through two key scenes where the protagonist's inner voice is heard, the essence of the film becomes clearer: “The world is serious, too serious. People, systems, everything is cemented. Although nothing is permanent and eternal, everything is ultimately temporary.” This thought reflects the core feeling of impermanence that migrants often experience-living in societies where they are constantly marginalized, and where their lives are marked by temporariness on both a personal and societal level. Another pivotal moment in the film touches on the theme of identity: “In a space that is not space. I see an unknown person. A person naked and without gender. I belong to a place that is nowhere.” This sentence highlights the identity crisis and the sense of not belonging that characterize the lives of many migrants, especially those who have faced the loss of roots, home, and social roles. I hope the audience leaves with a sense of empathy for those living in a state of "permanent temporariness" and recognizes how systemic discrimination and social barriers can shape someone’s life. Ultimately, the film speaks to human resilience-the ability to move forward despite everything, even when grappling with identity crises and unstable belonging.

If Miška, the protagonist, could step out of the film for a day and experience one thing in Vienna without worrying about bureaucracy or xenophobia, what do you think he would do?

This would be a day when Miška finds a sense of freedom. The idea mirrors how I envisioned the film's ending: where Miška, after failing to catch the tram, which symbolizes his ongoing state of impermanence, decides not to worry and goes on to plant a sunflower in a public space.

The sunflower, in this context, symbolizes resilience, growth, and hope. Sunflowers are known for always turning toward the sun, representing optimism and the ability to find light even in the darkest times. By planting the sunflower in a space that isn’t his, Miška symbolically claims a small but significant sense of belonging, a gesture reflecting his desire to put down roots in a world that often treats him as temporary.

If Miška could live without the constant pressure to prove himself or feel “othered,” his day would be filled with simple acts of peace and defiance, like planting that sunflower. It would be an experience of freedom, where he could enjoy life in Vienna as someone who isn’t judged from the start. This act would symbolize taking up space not only for himself but for all those living in limbo. Maybe, it would be a day of nice peaceful quiet resistance, where Miška is free to nurture unconditional love and growth.

Can you tease any upcoming projects or themes you're excited to explore in your future works?

I’m currently working on several exciting projects that explore themes of migration, memory, and cultural resistance, reflecting my ongoing focus on marginalized communities and the ways in which cultural, historical, and social narratives intersect. My next film, “Bitte Pssst!”, explores the struggle of Vienna’s underground scene against gentrification and legal restrictions. It follows a group of outsiders and artists, including Dacian, a queer artist from Romania, as they fight to keep their cultural space, "AU," alive amidst bureaucracy and societal challenges. The film is a tribute to DIY subcultures and the fight to protect alternative cultural spaces in cities. Alongside this, I’m co-writing a book with Anne Wiederhold-Daryanavard called Erinnern in Zukunft. It looks at how we can shape a future that embraces a more inclusive memory culture. The book brings together different perspectives on history and social injustice, aiming to change how we remember the past. Lastly, I’m co-leading the Initiative Bunker 16, a project to turn a WWII bunker in Vienna into a space for exhibitions, performances, and discussions focused on memory in society. This project aims to create a platform for engaging with the past, present, and future of collective memory.

This marks the conclusion of the interview featuring our esteemed artist, Michael Podgorac a.k.a Mikal Maldoror. Our community is growing steadily, with a continuous influx of skilled filmmakers and screenwriters joining us. Explore our other interviews, and consider scheduling one for yourself to showcase your creative endeavors.