Honi soit qui mal y pense
My mothers' grave was cleared away without the knowledge of my sister and myself. An unsatisfying correspondance followed with the church authority and, after our complaint, with the diocese. What appeared was that the rules had been followed. For us, the subject was much more about a piece of personal history that was removed without our knowledge.
On 54 cotton strips, 1 strip for every year our mother had lived, I wrote this text: 'here reposes Annie van Son van de Ven, 10 november 1932 - 5 mai 1985, Honi soit qui mal y pense'.
I went to the graveyard where her grave used to be and attached the strips. At the gate at the entrace, on the spot where her grave used to be, on her husbands grave, in the bushes around.
Next I went to another graveyard where family is burried and did the same. Finally I went to the cathedral that used to play an important role in her life en the lives of her ancestors. There again on many spots I left the strips with her name, her date of birth and date of death and the motto. The tombstone with her name was removed, but by way of the strips, her name started to roam around again.
I took a photograph of every spot where I had left a strip. These photographs I processed into a bookroll made of 7½ meters of cotton. Being her story. Being the story about her. I did not make a selection in the photographs, I put them all in the bookroll in the order I took them. I rolled up the bookroll, closed it with the last strip of text that was left. Thereby this story is closed too.