Me and the picture – it was not a love at first sight. Photography came quite late into my life – as a cure for thinking – but at the same time, as a missing piece, an element that made everything inside me fell into place.
When I received my master’s degree in philosophy, I was already so seriously challenged by the words that I had a verbal-circulatory blockade. I needed something to dilute my blood and my thoughts. And that’s when the image came to my aid – like a button that turns off thinking. Click – and the brain cuts off the overheated circuit of thoughts. Click – and reset. Click – and my head is filled with soothing silence. Because when I take photographs, I become what I see. I stop analyzing, comparing, evaluating, wondering, processing… I’m an image. While I read or write, I look inside me, but when I take photos, I look at the outside world.
In order to live and maintain a healthy balance, word and image must appear in me alternately, like inhaling after exhalation. When I suffocate with excess image intake, I have to inhale words to be able to survive. And vice versa. Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale… picture, word, image, word…
When sometimes under my photo someone will write: What an artist – I just think to myself: no, that is not me. All I do is breathe.