In 1998 my grandparents commited suicide. On the front door was a note stating that only the police had access. Their farewell letters lay on the kitchen table next to a pile of borrowed books that needed to be returned. They left three children, grandchildren, friends, relatives and colleagues, who all were affected by what happened. This project explores how those of us left behind were affected, and what we inherit from generation to generation. I was three when they died and grew up in the vacuum they left behind.

I found my grandmother's negatives in our attic. She had used the same format and camera as me. Her photographs were taken on the same island, and of the same summer house that I had photographed for so long. I started to scan our images on top of each other to create a double exposure with 60 years between them. I discovered that we often chose the same subjects, the children, the naked bodies of our close ones. We photograph what we love. I have tried to use these images to get closer to my grandparents, to fill in the many gaps left when someone dies. With them, I move forward and backward in time, discovering that everything goes in circles. What has happened happens again and again. This is me trying to find my grandparents in every stone, object or person on the island.

All the photographs were taken at our summer house on an island where my family gathers every summer, and everyone in the images is someone I am related to. The house was built by my grandparents and is now inhabited by three generations. It is empty most of the time, except for a few months in the summer when it is filled with our family.