For "Sollbruchstellen" (eng.: predetermined breaking points), I revisited the house where my family lived for generations. Some people I have known, most of them I only know through stories and old photographs. I asked myself why it is, that this place, that holds my family's history and should feel like a home, a place of safety and belonging, feels so distant to me. Why is it more of a burden than a pleasure to walk around in these rooms? What is my responsibility towards this place and the people it belonged to? Their stories are written into the walls, the furniture, into the creaking of the doors and the floor boards. I know exactly where they creak, and still can't walk without making a noise. I'm intertwined with those who were here before. Where is my place in this story?
2021
