De Berg Blijft (The Mountain Will Stay)
Oma, my grandmother, grew up on the Indonesian island Java. Her life took a profound turn when she and our family were detained in a Japanese concentration camp from 1942 to 1945. At that time, Oma was 17 years old.
During those challenging years, a mountain just outside the Ambarawa concentration camp became a symbol of hope for my grandmother. Each day, she would gaze at the mountain, finding solace in the certainty that, regardless of the uncertainties around her, this mountain stood steady. The resilience of my grandmother has always captivated me. Despite enduring traumas during her time in the concentration camp in Java, she embraced life with an incredible strength.
Shortly after my grandmother recently passed away, I travelled to Java myself, drawn by the stories she had shared. I stood where she might have stood, and photographed the mountain she once looked to for as a prayer. With each photograph I took, I tried to see it through her eyes; not just as a landscape, but as a source of strength and a reminder that even in the darkest times, something enduring can still stand tall. By combining the photographs of the mountain with archival material of the camp and of my grandmother, I create a dialogue between past and present, visualising how her lived experiences continue to shape my understanding of living with hope.
Oma, my grandmother, grew up on the Indonesian island Java. Her life took a profound turn when she and our family were detained in a Japanese concentration camp from 1942 to 1945. At that time, Oma was 17 years old.
During those challenging years, a mountain just outside the Ambarawa concentration camp became a symbol of hope for my grandmother. Each day, she would gaze at the mountain, finding solace in the certainty that, regardless of the uncertainties around her, this mountain stood steady. The resilience of my grandmother has always captivated me. Despite enduring traumas during her time in the concentration camp in Java, she embraced life with an incredible strength.
Shortly after my grandmother recently passed away, I travelled to Java myself, drawn by the stories she had shared. I stood where she might have stood, and photographed the mountain she once looked to for as a prayer. With each photograph I took, I tried to see it through her eyes; not just as a landscape, but as a source of strength and a reminder that even in the darkest times, something enduring can still stand tall. By combining the photographs of the mountain with archival material of the camp and of my grandmother, I create a dialogue between past and present, visualising how her lived experiences continue to shape my understanding of living with hope.
