Silent it is

And when the stream
Which overflowed the soul was passed away,
A consciousness remained that it had left
Deposited upon the silent shore
Of memory images and precious thoughts
That shall not die, and cannot be destroyed.

William Wordsworth (1770 – 1850)

 

In early 2013, at the age of 90 years, my grandmother moved into a nursing home. Until that day she lived all by herself in a 100 m2 apartment, which she called her home for around 30 years. The new room had merely 20 m2. Of the many things she had accumulated over the years, she could therefore take only a few personal items. About three years after moving my grandmother passed away on February 17th, 2016.

Left behind is all that which determined her daily live within the last three years of her life. The walking frame. The toothbrush. The clothing. The pictures on the wall. The stack of newspapers on the table. The table lamp on the brocade blanket. Traces of a life which have be gone within a few days. The next resident is waiting already.

My piece of work is a search. Furniture and items that are left behind, act as witnesses of life. Through them, my grandmother is still present beyond her death. The captured moments instantly become a thing of the past. The last portrait of my grandmother is a piece of work about transience, farewell and remembrance.

Swisttal, 2016