Photos & Text for “demenz Das Magazin”
I meet Annelise in her son Norbert's house. She is 93 years old and radiates warmth as I approach her. It has been almost 10 years since my own grandmother, who had dementia for as long as I can remember, passed away. Since then, I have had no contact with people living with dementia and, to be honest, I am a bit nervous. Not only do I want to get to know Annelise today, but I also want to photograph her, and I doubt until the very last second whether I can really do this. How do you photograph someone who perhaps will not even remember it in the end?
That I am allowed to be here is a great sign of trust from my good friend Jana, who offered me the chance to photograph her grandmother Annelise as part of my work for the Dementia Magazine. And she sits opposite me right now. As soon as we start talking to each other (Annelise speaks, I shout a bit since she does not hear so well anymore), my nervousness flies away. We laugh, joke, I introduce myself again and again, and then we continue laughing.
Its the only sunny day in all of January.
After a short time and with the support of her family present, I find the courage to ask her if I may photograph her. She seems surprised. "Me?", she asks, and I nod smilingly at her. She looks so beautiful, with her warm smile, her green-turquoise clothes, and her sun-lit face that bears witness to so much life experience. I tell her this too, over and over again! Meanwhile, I press the shutter of my camera and we warmly look at each other.
I suddenly feel transported back to when I was a ten-year-old child at my grandma's, who was always so forgetful. We played "Mensch Ärgere dich nicht" or I explained for the tenth time that they call it euro now and not marks.
Annelise goes through old photo albums with her daughter, granddaughter, and great-granddaughter. She seems to understand me now as part of the scene, answering quite naturally whenever I ask her again and again for permission to take a photo. It is almost as if she now knows, after just a few hours, who I am. She even asks me how she should pose. As the sun has almost set, she looks at me and asks if I could show her the photos. She puts on her reading glasses and looks at my tiny camera screen. I am reminded that I was told during preparations for this appointment not to take it personally if the people do not recognize themselves. Yet Annelise radiates and tells me that I did a great job, that she looks beautiful. And she truly does.
When I say goodbye, we hug for a long time and warmly. It is almost as if she does not want to let me go. When Jana and I drive home from the small town in Lower Saxony, I feel deeply moved. Joy over the beautiful day, mixed with memories of my childhood and the feeling that I now dare to believe, that it is my wish to show people living with dementia and their relatives, to give them visually a space that goes beyond the clichéd images we are often served with.