Two years ago, just as the perception of Dutch colonialism was starting to shift, Ilona Langbroek made her breakthrough with Silent Loss, a photo series that tells the story of those who, following Indonesian independence, were forced to leave their homeland, the Dutch East Indies, and relocate to the Netherlands. On arriving in the Netherlands, the Indo-Dutch wanted to integrate seamlessly into Dutch society. They succeeded to some extent, carrying their loss with them but talking little about it.
Ilona Langbroek (NL, 1970) was an interior and lighting designer for many years before making switching careers to become a photographer. While studying at the academy, she was tasked with addressing a personal subject and given her Indo-Dutch roots, this topic was an obvious choice. But she hesitated because her family was reluctant to discuss it.
Langbroek's approach to visualising the subject is indirect. She deliberately uses sparse lighting and creates subdued compositions. Inspired by Indo-Dutch authors like Maria Dermoût, whose writing style is steeped in symbolism, Langbroek produces images that do justice to this challenging history and the complex emotions associated with the loss. "This allows me to tell stories without spelling them out, giving the viewer the opportunity to interpret and feel."
Remembrance is the second exhibition featuring work from the Silent Loss series and can be viewed at Bildhalle in Amsterdam until 24 February, after which the exhibition will be moving on to Zürich.
Where is your studio and what does it look like?
My studio is located in Huizen and is a wonderful space with high ceilings. This allows me to place my lighting at the perfect height to create shadows and avoid undesirable reflections. I’ve made the walls suitable for using as a background for my shoots. In addition to studio work, I also use various locations to create the right atmosphere. For my current project, I even travelled to Indonesia with one of my regular models to photograph her there and integrate those locations into my work.
What makes a good studio for you?
A good studio should be versatile. For me, it is crucial that the space is suitable for both natural daylight and subtly manipulating light using studio lights. Adequate space to move around is also essential. I need to be able to distance myself from the model to explore different perspectives and use different lenses.
You studied photography later in life. Why?
After many years working as an interior and lighting designer, I felt the need for a change and decided to switch to another creative field. Photography, which I already used in documenting my interior projects, caught my attention. I enrolled at the Fotoacademie Amsterdam without a specific direction in mind, simply the desire to start with a blank slate.
The subject of your ongoing series, Silent Loss, is the loss of the Dutch East Indies and the profound impact it left on those forced to relocate to the Netherlands. This often resulted in a lifelong silence about their homeland, the so-called ‘Indisch zwijgen’ (Indo’s silence). In your case, this is a very personal history. Did you hesitate to make this the subject of your work for that reason?
The decision to create Silent Loss, a project exploring the loss of Dutch East Indies and the silence surrounding it, was not an easy one. While studying at the Fotoacademie Amsterdam, I was required to choose a project deeply connected to my heart. Considering my Indo-Dutch roots, Silent Loss seemed to be a natural choice. But given the sensitivity of the topic in my family, it caused a prolonged internal debate. Starting this project was particularly challenging because family members were hesitant to discuss the subject. Fortunately, through friends, I connected with elders who grew up in Dutch East Indies and helped me immensely to understand the history and complex emotions associated with it.
Why did this emotionally charged subject lend itself well to photographic work?
The subject of Silent Loss is not just a historical narrative but also a personal journey. Being so close to my heart, I wanted to depict this emotionally charged subject poetically. Photography gives me the ability to delve deep into the soul of the past and present it in an artistic manner. By laying a blanket of beauty over this painful subject, I hope to make it more accessible, soften the pain and evoke empathy.
One striking aspect of your work is the sparse use of lighting and subdued nature of the scenes. Yet, as a viewer, you feel that there is more happening beneath the surface. When did you realise that you could convey something without explicitly explaining everything?
The sparse use of lighting and restraint in my compositions are deliberate. They are inspired by reading old Indo-Dutch literature, especially work by authors like Maria Dermoût. Her writing style, filled with symbolism, inspired me to create images that also contain deeper layers of meaning. This enables me to tell stories without spelling them out, giving the viewer the opportunity to interpret and feel.
You debuted with Silent Loss in 2021. By then, the sentiment and discourse about the Dutch colonial past were already shifting, as seen in the critical Revolusie by David van Reybrouck a year earlier. Did you notice a significant response to your work in light of these developments?
The debut of Silent Loss in 2021 did indeed coincide with a period of shifting sentiments and discourse around Dutch colonial history. The reactions to my work were telling and reflected people's feelings and memories related to this charged piece of history. My artistic expression, particularly my images, proved to be a powerful means to evoke emotions and recognition. People were moved by the depth of my work, not only by the visual aspects such as the use of light, colour and fabrics, but also by the emotional weight inherent to colonial history. The fact that my images evoked reminiscences of my own grandparents, who were part of this history, added an extra personal dimension. Many Dutch people with an Indo-Dutch background felt pride and recognition for their ancestors, as many had to leave their homeland after the police actions in Indonesia and build a new life in the Netherlands. Silent integration was vital for them.
The current show, Remembrance, contains new work from the Silent Loss series. Do you foresee a moment when this series will come to an end, a time when you will have said everything you want to say? If so, what theme would you like to address next?
To me, Silent Loss represents an ongoing creative journey and continuous exploration of emotions and human experience. This series has helped me to capture and communicate profound aspects of loss, vulnerability and emotional connections. But my intention is not to end this theme at a specific point in time. Instead, I consider it a foundation on which to continue to build my artistic identity. While I continue to explore my artistic horizon and work on new themes and subjects, Silent Loss will always remain an integral part because it's not just a snapshot, but an ongoing dialogue with the complexity of human emotions and transience of life. In a nutshell, although I cannot predict a specific endpoint for Silent Loss, I am confident that it will have a lasting impact on my work, even as I embrace new themes and stories. It is an ongoing journey of discovery in which my artistic vision and expression continue to evolve.
What are you currently working on?
Right now, I am busy preparing for various exhibitions and shows. My work will be featured this year at Aipad in New York, Photo London, Paris Photo and PAN Amsterdam. A solo exhibition is also being planned at Bildhalle in Zürich for the spring and there are events in January and February related to the current exhibition Remembrance at Bildhalle Amsterdam on Willemsparkweg. Apart from these exhibitions, I am also in the early stages of preparing a new project. The unveiling of this project will take some time considering the extensive time I dedicate to research, finding suitable locations and collecting antique garments that align with my vision.