Pond is the result of a writing experience I have had with a friend. Just like my father, hers had died of a serious illness. For several weeks, we would meet and talk about our experience. Through short texts revolving around several themes, we would try to imagine each other’s experience. Some years after this experience in writing, I had the opportunity to take pictures in a burned-down house. On insurance grounds, the former inhabitants had had to leave all their belongings in the burned rooms. I decided to fill these rooms with the voice of my friend’s father, as well as with his daughter’s voice.
By interacting on manipulable elements, the reader moves from room to room in this soot-covered house. But the images are just reflections, vague memories, completely conditioned by the subjective eye of the photographer. The "voices" floating on these evanescent images are equally labile, i.e. constructed and deconstructed by fragile textual animations. The author's voice is sometimes superimposed on the animated text; in German, this voice tells her own experience of her father’s death.
Death, forgetfulness, the slow but sure decay of memories are both suggested on a "visual" level and denied by the circularity of the "wandering" experience. The digital work tries to preserve these memories, even if they are to fall inevitably into oblivion. The work invites the reader to become a party to this desperate attempt to prevent the stream of oblivion from leaking.
