Self Publishers United

My grandmother, Diana Fransz-Rompis, was born in 1926 in Weltevreden, a suburb of Batavia (modern-day Jakarta). She grew up in Batu, which means ‘stone’, a village in the province of Minahasa (North Sulawesi, Indonesia) and the birthplace of her parents. In 1950, one year after the Netherlands acknowledged the independence of Indonesia, my grandparents left for the Netherlands.

Homesickness for her homeland, and especially for the Minahasa, shaped my grandmother’s life. She assuaged her sense of displacement by describing the culture of Minahasa, organising cultural activities, collecting everything she could from there, and passing on pearls of wisdom to us. She also gathered an enormous collection of objects, instruments and curiosities that all have their own significance — some practical, others mystical.

In exploring my grandmother’s legacy, I walked in her footsteps. I undertook a journey to visit members of my family. My grandmother assuaged her sense of displacement by describing the culture of the Minahasa, organizing cultural activities, collecting everything she could from there, and passing on pearls of wisdom to us.

Queen of Batu is an ode to my grandmother, and also my attempt to preserve the past for future generations. Researching her yearning has helped me understand my own sense of longing better. An awareness of deep ties with the past and the culture of our ancestors that is passed down through the generations.

“All that I know has been erased…” is a personal project, about the knowing and forgetting of my father.
My 80-year-old father died on the 1st of October 2006.
He suffered from Lewy Body Dementia in his last years: a form of dementia accompanied by delusions and a Parkinson’s syndrome.
His decline went horribly fast. My father became paranoid and relived wartime traumas.
He became less agile and stiffer by the day, making him anxious, angry and frail at times.
Knowledge was forgotten, memories faded and speech dissolved.
Our bond turned into a togetherness with no need for words: affectionate, vulnerable, comforting and loving.
With this book, I wish to depict the process my father went through, seen through my eyes.
I made use of photographs, letters and belongings he had kept, many to which I was unfamiliar.
I created new images with these, where memories have faded and faces become anonymous: exactly how I imagined his changed perception to be.
Recognizable to many, confronting perhaps, but hopefully comforting too.
I especially cherish the time that he was my father…

Blank was made during an artist residency at the Château du Fresne. It is about the process of grieving after losing the love of my life. My new found balance is still incredibly fragile, waves of grief continue to surprise, overwhelm and disorientate me.

Making the artist book and transforming it into a handmade book clears my mind and captures the fleeting nature of my memories.

In the attic of the Château du Fresne, a former owner (1880-1918), Monsieur Poirier, left behind a vast archive of correspondence. The fragility of the old papers, eaten away by time... all this was strongly linked to my grief.
I combined bits and pieces of the original letters, ledgers and antique wallpapers with my own analogue work, using Polaroids and prints on decades-old photographic paper, interweaving them into collages.