Annie

Annie

 

In the last week of my grandmother’s life I started looking with different eyes to all the events happening. Suddenly everything was a last time, a last touch, a last kiss goodbye. The upcoming euthanasia made the situation more surreal so. My grandmother was clearly alive, but we exactly knew until what day and time. The cancer had taken its toll and death was near.

 

Not only was this a goodbye for me personally. It was the oldest generation and the living memories of our past fading out. The house and interior was from another time. A time filled with different needs, different values and a different history. The home felt like an exhibition to me. A collection build up over time, with stories to each piece. It existed only together, as a collection, as a whole.  All of this would soon be gone. Cleared out. Taken care of. Everything in the house, including my grandmother. These photo’s capture my grandmother and her house in a final but living state. All in order, all well.

By now, these are nothing but memories. Pieces of a puzzle from the past. Nothing significant but a document of time.