The most beautiful memory. Recollecting my father. | Shortlisted Project - PHmuseum 2020 Photographers Grant - PHmuseum

The most beautiful memory. Recollecting my father.

  • The nature we grow up in is our earliest world after the emotional world of our mothers, these places we know by heart before we know anything else.

  • Scans of diapositives of my mother and father from my dad's archive, ca. 1978

  • Diptych of my closed eye and a wooden boat hand made by my father. 2020

  • The broken necklace. 2020. When I was a child my father told me that there was a treasure hidden by dwarfs somewhere in our home, an old country estate that had during his childhood and youth harboured a cinema named The Unicorn, a ball room, a tavern, a farm and a family. The world he showed me was magic, limitless and full of adventures. Objects could be magic and I knew if I just believed it hard enough I could fly

  • The Western Mountains. An image from my dad's archive taken during a trip through the USA, ca. 1974.

  • Portrait of my grandfather, owner of the cinema 'The Unicorn' with film rolls and film projector. Date and origin unknown.

  • An image from my dad's archive taken during a trip through the USA, ca. 1974.

  • An image from my dad's archive taken during a trip through Egypt, ca. 1973.

  • An image from my dad's archive taken during a trip through Egypt, ca. 1973.

  • A picture of me and my father taken during our family holiday in The Netherlands, 1988.

  • An image of our rented holiday home in The Netherlands from my dad's archive taken during our last family holiday, 1988: 'Before our summer holidays in The Netherlands in the summer of ‘88 Dad was released from the hospital as ‘cured’. He was acting strangely, wanting to sleep in a room alone, and was moody. His throat was still hurting.'

  • “Sick, weather-wise fresh, sunny and rainy. Runner bean laid.” -my father’s diary entry, summer 1988”

  • Diptych of my a photo of my parents hugging from an unknown source and a picture taken by me of my mother's folded hands: 'The day after my Papa died at home and two days before my 9th birthday, my siblings and I wrote goodbye messages and placed them between his folded hands. In that moment it became clear to me that I would never read those words again, nor would I see or speak to my father again.'

  • An image from my dad's archive taken of the nearer surroundings of our village, ca. 1976.

  • Diptych of a portrait of my mother and a broken tree in the garden of my parental home. 2020.

  • Diptych of a picture of a forest that decorated my father's room in his youth and my mother's eye. 2020.

  • Diptych of an image of a flower from my dad's archive and my mom in her garden.2020.

  • Portrait of my son Luis with a river shell. 2020.

  • Childhood Ensemble. 2020

  • Portrait of my father at the river taken by his best friend, ca. 1960. I wanted to ask my mother:“What is your most beautiful memory of him?”

The most beautiful memory. Recollecting my father.

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