Fucking asshole (2025). Does the work need explanation?
The beach (2025)
Family portrait 01 (2025).
The Vesder Dam (2025)
As a child, it was forbidden territory: the box of Jacques chocolate cards, carefully collected by my mother. The images, combined with the prohibition, made them magical.
Years later, I found the duplicates. No longer off-limits. But I still feel it—the childlike curiosity, the longing to possess them.
What was once a messy treasure, I’ve now sorted and transformed into a pattern.
This work is about memory, about holding on and letting go, and about this simple truth: keeping this shit will not bring her back.
It is an ode to my mother, and a tribute to childhood wonder.
Portrait (2025)
Keeping this shit will not bring her back I (2025). My mother died when I was young. For a long time, I tried to keep what I could so she would feel close to me. But… keeping this shit will not bring her back.
Flimsy (2025). Playfulness in the front, invoices and taxes in the back — a collage that contrasts the joy of spontaneity with the quiet weight of bureaucracy.
Slaap / Sleep (2025)
Keeping this shit will not bring her back II (2025). My mother died when I was young. For a long time, I tried to keep what I could so she would feel close to me. But… keeping this shit will not bring her back.
Factuur 3923 (2025). Playfulness in the front, invoices and taxes in the back — a collage that contrasts the joy of spontaneity with the quiet weight of bureaucracy.
Klasdagboek 01 (2025). This piece connects to keeping this shit. My mother was a primary school teacher. Her old class diaries are among the few things that remain of her. The handwriting is neat, almost tender — yet the content feels distant, unreadable to me. A quiet inheritance full of empty words.
Bridge over the Eastern Scheldt (2025)
As a child, it was forbidden territory: the box of Jacques chocolate cards, carefully collected by my mother. The images, combined with the prohibition, made them magical.
Years later, I found the duplicates. No longer off-limits. But I still feel it—the childlike curiosity, the longing to possess them.
What was once a messy treasure, I’ve now sorted and transformed into a pattern.
This work is about memory, about holding on and letting go, and about this simple truth: keeping this shit will not bring her back.
It is an ode to my mother, and a tribute to childhood wonder.
Les hémorroides et leurs traitement (2025)
Among old papers, I found a booklet about hemorrhoids and their treatment. Clinical, informative, meant to help — yet the images made my stomach twist. One glance, and my body reacted before I could put it into words.
This work examines the immediate power of the image. A photograph can be objective — but our response to it rarely is.