Category: Unkategorisiert

What if we could see the world unlearned?

Our vision is conditioned—trained by evolution to identify objects, to name and categorize. We see the tree, not the branching. The cloud, not its billowing architecture. In our rush to recognize, we overlook the structures that connect all living forms.

Phase Shift inverts the familiar. By reversing tonal values while largely retaining original colors, these images occupy an impossible space between negative and positive, between document and dream. Trees glow like nervous systems. Skies deepen into oceanic voids. The forest becomes a cathedral of veins and vessels.

This is nature seen sideways—through the compound eye of an insect, the gaze of something arriving from very far away. The process strips the landscape of its comfortable familiarity and reveals the architecture we’ve stopped noticing: the fractal branching of winter trees, the silent choreography of clouds.

The presentation is integral to the work. Printed at approximately 60×90 cm on metallic paper, the images gain an additional dimension. The reflective surface intensifies the otherworldly luminosity of the inverted tones while incorporating subtle reflections of the surroundings—the viewer, the room, the light—into the image itself. The photograph becomes a shifting object, never quite the same twice.

The title borrows from physics, where a phase shift describes a change not in what exists, but in how it is perceived. These images do not alter nature. They alter us.

Perhaps the mystical was never elsewhere. Perhaps it was always here, waiting for our eyes to shift.

In my photo series “Backstage Burlesque,” I document the intimate world behind the curtain, where everyday people transform into seductive artistic personas. My camera captures authentic moments of transformation—from concentrated makeup routines to exuberant conversations between the artists. The images also reveal the duality of the palpable tension before the performance and the liberating relief afterward. Through this documentary approach, I unveil the artistry and humanity behind erotic performance. The series explores the space where everyday life and art merge, revealing the deep connection between the performers in their most vulnerable and authentic form.

In May 2016, I took part in the Tweed Run in London. Here are my impressions of this extraordinary bike ride.

Transylvanian traditional costumes photographed in May 2012 at the meeting of the Transylvanians in Dinkelsbühl.

Statement für dieses Projekt folgt in Kürze.

The Oktoberfest in Munich has become the most famous folk and beer festival in the world.
At the end of the 90s and especially in the course of the 2000s, the Oktoberfest, parallel to its growing popularity, turned more and more into a kind of Bavarian costume festival. The spectrum of this clothing ranges from low cost traditional costume fabric cover-ups, cheap mass-produced costumes to more expensive fashionable creations with a traditional flair. Even fringe groups benefit from the diversity of costuming at Oktoberfest, these wear their “own” traditional costume, no matter how extreme or different.
However, you can still see the original traditional clothing that exists apart from fashion and are typical of certain regions and traditions. However, this type of traditional costume clothing is rarely seen or only on a few days.

Particularly noticeable at the Oktoberfest are the colorful fairground and beer tent crowd and the rampant consumption of alcohol, which is not without consequences. It is a continuous state of exception that lasts for more than two weeks.

All these aspects together form a unique frame for the portrayed people, who are ultimately the most interesting thing about this folk festival.

Dacia was a region in present-day Romania during pre-Christian times and home to the Dacian people. It was conquered by the Romans in the first century and incorporated into the Roman Empire as the Imperial Province of “Dacia.”

This name was given to the automobile that dominated Romania’s streets during the socialist-communist era, which was nothing more than a licensed copy of the Renault 12, manufactured in Pitești from 1969. In the 1980s, a remarkable 90% of all passenger cars on Romania’s roads were Dacias. The vehicle became a symbol of apparent equality in socialist society – an equality that was also manifested in the long waiting periods of up to three years that one had to endure to acquire a new car.

Of course, my parents also owned a Dacia. When it was sold after four or five years, another Dacia inevitably followed – only the color of the bodywork and interior seats offered variety: sometimes white, sometimes dark green, sometimes butter yellow or red. After the purchase, the loving personalization always began: A Western car radio was installed, the bodywork decorated with selected Western decals, and a cross or Jesus figure was usually found on the rearview mirror. Our special pride was a mascot that my father had brought from the West in the 70s, which adorned several of our Dacias in succession. These personal details were what ultimately distinguished the Dacias from one another.

Despite frequent nausea in the back seat, due to poor road conditions and the simple suspension of the car, I loved riding in the Dacia. Whether it was searching for food in the next largest city, going to remote villages to stock the cellar for winter, picnicking in the Carpathians, or visiting friends and relatives – I always observed the passing world with great joy. Thanks to my travel-loving parents, I was able to get to know and experience nearly all of Romania from the Dacia during my childhood.

With the series “Dacia & Chauffeur,” I want to revive memories of a time of childlike utopia, in which at least through the vehicle a certain equality prevailed. It wasn’t the car itself that was the focus, but the destinations one reached with it – the friends visited, the places discovered, the shared experiences.

More than two decades after the 1989 revolution, these vehicles are still part of the Romanian streetscape. But their significance has changed: from a symbol of equality, they have become a sign of social differences – often the last available means of transportation for people with limited financial resources. My photo series deliberately puts the drivers in the spotlight. They are the true protagonists who maintain their aging vehicles with dignity and ingenuity. I pay them respect and recognition with my images.

All Dacia & Driver images, Transylvania and Banat, 2009 to 2013

Isarleben (Life along the Isar) – Part 1

The Isar divides Munich, over a length of more than 20 kilometers, into almost two equal parts. Despite this, the city only reaches the banks of the river in a few places. One feels in the middle of nature although one is in the middle of the city.

As a result, the banks of the Isar, some of which are very wide, strongly attract city inhabitants. On weekends and especially in the long summer evenings, the Isar is a promenade, a barbecue, a sports field, a bathing place and an oasis of relaxation for Munich’s city dwellers.

Watching the crowds, the individual groups of people, down to the single individual is fascinating. The river landscape, which looks as if left to nature, but is ultimately completely designed and tamed by man, becomes a paradisiacal setting without any danger. It is a place populated by people who follow only their desire and enjoyment, living in the moment of the present and willing to forget the past of the city.

This series consists of landscapes full of people, where the crowd is the subject and portraits where individual personalities become visible.

Isarleben – Part 2 (Portraits)

The Isar divides Munich, over a length of more than 20 kilometers, into almost two equal parts. Despite this, the city only reaches the banks of the river in a few places. One feels in the middle of nature although one is in the middle of the city.

As a result, the banks of the Isar, some of which are very wide, strongly attract city inhabitants. On weekends and especially in the long summer evenings, the Isar is a promenade, a barbecue, a sports field, a bathing place and an oasis of relaxation for Munich’s city dwellers.

Watching the crowds, the individual groups of people, down to the single individual is fascinating. The river landscape, which looks as if left to nature, but is ultimately completely designed and tamed by man, becomes a paradisiacal setting without any danger. It is a place populated by people who follow only their desire and enjoyment, living in the moment of the present and willing to forget the past of the city.

This series consists of landscapes full of people, where the crowd impresses and portraits, the close-up, where individual personalities become visible.

The cities in Transylvania, as in the whole of Romania, have developed strongly after the fall of communism, the market economy has in many ways brought the image of the cities into line with that of Western Europe. The situation is different in rural areas. Here, time seems to have stood still, and so-called progress seems to arrive here only slowly.

Even after more than 20 years after the fall of the iron curtain, I still find here the images of my childhood, the idylls that make the rest of the world forget for moments and make time stand still.