The photobook tells the story of my childhood—of all the contrasts that shaped it: Closeness and distance, security and loss, love and emptiness. The images show delicate, almost dreamy
moments, but also direct and uncomfortable ones. Without many words,
they allow you to feel what was there—and what was missing. My mother, who gave everything. A father who was never truly present.
At the same time, the book, through accompanying texts, tells the story of my mother, who lived in a violent and unfulfilling marriage. About her silence, because there was no language for her suffering.
About a time when it was not socially accepted to speak out, to seek help, to set
boundaries. And then there is the look at the present: The traces of this past continue on. For me, men mainly meant disappointment, absence, insecurity. But one-sided love gradually becomes a reciprocal one—through processing, understanding, and forgiveness. The book is a
reflection on what once was—and on what it has become.
At its center stand my memories of childhood. Positive and negative experiences are meant to evoke emotions and invite interpretation. I show gaps empty spaces that form the invisible area
between memory and the present.