I saw my own reflection, warping as the lake lived

When I stepped in an old village house in rural Finland, I stepped into her family’s collective memory.

I pulled an endless string of stones from the lake. On my palm they shimmered, their colors were deep and the surface cold and slippery against my skin. I placed them in a row on the edge of our deck. I admired my treasures, like diamonds sparkling in the sun.

The next day they had turned as grey and harsh as the gravel on the path I took.

I laid on our deck and watched the waves beneath through the cracks. As I pressed my cheek against the wood to see closer, I blocked the sunlight and my reflection was swallowed by darkness.

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This is a personal project where I am trying to form a relationship between my memories, my past and my father's childhood home. It is a collection of photography, found objects and archive material.