My current project delves into the challenges faced by the elderly in Dutch society, where sustaining one's existence can seem almost insurmountable. Specifically, I focus on my great aunt, who is about to turn 100 on November 25th. Despite the generational gap of 71 years, she feels like one of my closest friends. Through making collaborative photographs with her, I rediscovered my supportive role toward her, recognising the value of every fleeting moment as life nears its end. In the process, I unexpectedly found myself carrying the weight of a 99-year-old on my back. As I felt her brittle bones pierce mine, we reflected on our respective positions in life. Through photography, we create something together that encapsulates her life, offering a form of immortality. The feeling of privilege I have to collaborate with her is a defining aspect of the project

Losing a parent. What could it look like? A crash? A crime? An accident? Slow or fast?

I hereby present my mom - she stars in her own death scene - and myself: the daughter who is looking for the best possible death. Could it be possible to die together someday, I wondered. Controlling the inevitable: it may seem impossible. However, by attempting to, we may be able to cope with what we fear most.

As a daughter and a photographer, I had the opportunity to master the narrative by placing death on a stage, surrounded by various elements that could interfere with the way my mother might die. Fear and shock linger around like two actors who both want the lead role. And the world as we know it today functions as the décor. It gives me the idea that I am a snake charmer who controls the danger by letting my mom die over and over again. Until we reach the grand finale and 'control' itself can be bitten by one of the snakes.