It’s the dark days of November, but Veldhoven is radiant: GLOW is appearing in the village for the first time this year. The church, a giant weeping willow, the cemetery—all magically bathed in the spotlight. This year’s event is extra special for Hanneke and her family. One of the artworks—directly across from the house where they live—pays tribute to their deceased daughter, Fenna.
There’s no such thing as coincidence. Things happen for a reason. Veldhoven resident Hanneke has been convinced of this ever since she met the Mexican artist who arrived in Veldhoven during GLOW.
“The GLOW organisers were looking for a suitable location on our street to install the video projector,” Hanneke tells Omroep Brabant. “They knocked on our door, and coincidentally, one of the organisers is a friend of mine. She knew the story of our stillborn child.”
Hanneke takes us back to almost seven years ago. She was a radiant picture of happiness then, proud of her 35-week pregnant belly, ready to count toes. The girl was completely healthy but died just before delivery due to a pinched umbilical cord, which caused her heart to stop beating. The couple took Fenna home after the birth to care for and love her. At the same time, they arranged the most beautiful funeral possible.
“The loss was so unimaginably painful,” Hanneke says softly. “Perhaps even more so because her death was so unnecessary. There’s no word for a parent who has lost a child. There’s no standard therapy to teach you how to cope with this. Above all, there’s so much emptiness.”
Back to the autumn of 2025, when it was decided to make the front garden available for the light fixture. “My friend put us in touch with the artist. Her work revolves around honouring the dead.”
Not a moment of tears
In Mexico, this Day of the Dead isn’t a time for tears and lonely mourning, but rather an exuberant celebration. Mexicans visit the graves of their loved ones, scatter flower petals, eat sweet pastries, and go out in public wearing face paint. The lives of the deceased are celebrated with music and colour. “It really resonated with us. And then the artist suggested incorporating Fenna into the artwork.”
It was a very ambivalent experience, she admits. “You’re naturally confronted with the loss. But my three other children—the eldest, 9, and the twins, 5—are slowly starting to ask questions about their sister. And this is a beautiful way to show them that you can also deal with death in this way. Death isn’t just a cemetery and grief; it can be a celebration. You can also remember someone with beautiful colours and flowers, like they do in Mexico.”
Terribly difficult
Fenna was given a prominent place in the artwork “Day of the Living Colours” based on photos. Her name is also included in pink letters. When Hanneke looks out the window in the evening, she sees the cheerful video animation on the house across the street. It brings her daughter very close again, and the light shines right into her soul.
“These days remain incredibly difficult every year,” says Hanneke. “But also the social pressure to keep going. To ‘process’ it. Only in the last two years have I dared to look at my grief. Before that, I worked incredibly hard, head held high, shoulders straight. I consciously pushed the grief to the background. All to avoid giving in to the pain. This artwork helps me process it a bit.”
Source: Studio040
For Eindhoven News: Lila Mehrez
