Grandpa Goes Strawberry Picking

Photography, memory, transmission, garden, disappearance

This intimate and symbolic project begins with a simple gesture: planting a young plum tree in a square meter of garden, at the very moment my grandfather's memory begins to fade.
The tree comes from a wild nursery he once cared for. One day, I found a dead bird. We buried it at the foot of the plum tree. That gesture—mingling what fades with what begins—initiated a ritual.
Oh, and it turns out the plum tree is actually a wild apple tree.

During a workshop run by the collective SUSTAINABLE DARKROOM, I chose this small plot of earth as my field of observation.
I aim to carry out a slow, experimental, long-term photographic process, grounded in daily life and based on alternative methods (plant-based developers, cyanotype, soil imprints).
It’s a space of vigil, of growth, of grief, and of care.
A way to come to terms with my grandfather’s ongoing disappearance, as the tree begins to bear fruit.

The project takes the form of a sensitive narrative, fragmentary writing, handcrafted photography, gardening gestures, and echoes of childhood.
It’s also a quiet tribute to a beloved figure — a silent grandfather, a walker, and a cultivator of memory.

“Grandpa Goes Strawberry Picking” explores what we inherit, what we pass on, and how we care — for what came before us and for what is growing.