Summary

In the shadow of the sun is a six-metre-high onion-shaped installation that symbolises the sorrow that is released in mourning. The installation is made of sugar glass panels that breathe and move with the humidity and temperature of its surroundings. The work is a visual allusion to natural decay and the uncontrollable changeability associated with the human condition. In addition to the work, I organised a round table discussion with local municipal councillors, an imam and other specialists on Islamic burial rituals and Dutch grave law.

Info

In the shadow of the sun is a six-metre-high onion-shaped installation that symbolises the sorrow that is released in mourning. Twenty years ago, my father died and was buried in Hoorn in one of the few Dutch cemeteries with an Islamic section. At the beginning of my residency at Hotel Maria Kapel, I visited his grave and realised he wasn’t able to reach the age I am currently, where his hair could grey.

The loss of a loved one comes with grief. With the passage of time, it became increasingly difficult to cry at the memory of my father, while the droplets stream down my cheeks at an unparalleled ease when cutting an onion. I chose the onion as a symbol of mourning, in which the layers of an onion represent the depth of grief. In the shadow of the sun is made of amber, tempered sugar glass so it breathes and moves with the humidity and temperature of its surroundings. A few days after the installation, parts of the exterior turned white and other pieces slowly peeled off – like the outer layer of an onion exposed to the outside air for too long. Slowly, the work succumbed under the weight of time and was called back to where it came from: the earth. The work is a visual allusion to natural decay and the uncontrollable changeability associated with the human condition.

To produce the artwork, I asked people from the Islamic community in Hoorn to help make the sugar glass panels. Collaboration forms the basis for encounters and philosophical conversations about death, for example. By connecting with a diverse network of Hoorn’s mosques, communities and the Islamic cemetery, I created a new connection with Hoorn for myself; the city that has housed my father's body for more than twenty years.

During my stay in Hoorn, I was surprised by the lack of legislation and information on perpetual grave rights. This is because in The Netherlands, grave rights are renewed every ten to thirty years and thus do not comply with one of the most important Islamic principles: perpetual grave rest and the guarantee that your grave will not be emptied in the future, in practice covering about eighty years. That is why I contacted local municipal councillors, an imam, and other specialists on Islamic burial rituals and Dutch grave law. As part of the residency at Hotel Maria Kapel, I organised a round table discussion and invited Susanne Duivenstijn (sustainable, environmentally aware and holistic funeral director at Bijafscheid), Arnica Gortzak (PvdA parliamentary party chairwoman in Hoorn town council), Kees Maas (ChristenUnie parliamentary party chairwoman in Hoorn town council), Guus Sluiter (director of Museum Tot Zover, Netherlands Funeral Museum), Mohammed Azem Soebrati (Islamic funeral home As-Salaam), and Ibrahim Wijbenga (chairman Islamic Funeral Service Foundation) to speak about eternity, impermanence of memories, and the transition from a living body to death.

Many thanks to

Metal construction: Dennis Slootweg

Making of sugar glass: Zinah, Afkar, Ouassila

Assistance installation: Ismail and sons

Team of HMK: Ines Piso, Rik Dijkhuizen, Annelien de Bruin

Photography of the decay process: Bart Treuren

Emotional support: Yannik Güldner and Pancake

Made possible by

Niemeijer Fonds

Stichting Stokroos

Gemeente Hoorn