Analoge Bilder

Cuppa

A Break with the Wind at My Back

I was there.

The cup said so.

No waiting, no doing.

The coffee was already cold.

One-of-a-kind analogue print from a slide. Portugal, 1995. 30 × 45 cm mounted on 50 × 70 cm.

Window to the Sea

Open, Despite Everything

I knew it would get loud.

I left the window open anyway.

Perhaps something will come in.

Perhaps I’ll just jump out.

One-of-a-kind analogue print from a slide. Sri Lanka, 2003. 30 × 45 cm mounted on 50 × 70 cm.

Glowing in the Night

Boats at Sunset

Glowing in the Night

It was quiet.

And yet:

The light knew

more than the morning.

Glowing.

Still.

More than the morning.

Analogue print from a slide. Isla Margarita, 1997. 30 × 45 cm mounted on 50 × 70 cm.

One Stall — Two Lives

Beach Vendor

“One Beach, Two Lives”

I was not your customer.

You were not my subject.

But we stood —

for a moment —

beyond supply and demand.

A moment. No destination.

One-of-a-kind analogue print from a slide. Bali, 2001. 30 × 45 cm mounted on 50 × 70 cm.

Boat Ahead

Waiting for the Wave —

or for you…

I lie half on the beach, ready for the next wave.

Perhaps it will carry me back to sea,

perhaps you will cast me all the way ashore.

You decide whether to give me a push.

I am ready.

One-of-a-kind analogue print from a slide. Bali, 2005. 30 × 45 cm mounted on 50 × 70 cm.

Field of Feathers

Paul

White feathers
above a bed of green,
brushed by the wind
and steeped in light.
Between abundance and distance
lies a valley made of breath —
and everything is
at once
here.

One-of-a-kind analogue print from a slide. Cape Verde, 2008. 30 × 45 cm mounted on 50 × 70 cm.

Line of Growth

Mountain Pass Road

The land breathes
beneath heavy clouds,
the grass flickers
in the wind of times gone by.
Hills grow,
mountains rest,
no one knows
what is coming into being here
and what is passing away.

One-of-a-kind analogue print from a slide. Cape Verde, 2008. 50 × 70 cm.

Between Shore and Shadow

Boat beneath the Palms

The boat waits,
the water is silent.
Palms whisper
of unfamiliar paths
known only to the light.
What remains
is a gateway into green
and the promise
of a journey into the open.

The river lies there like an unwashed mirror,
the palms have forgotten all their names
(not that they ever had any — they are palms, after all,
and palms don’t bother with paperwork).

The boat dreams it is a tree,
and the tree remembers being a paddle.
Some call it nostalgia; others call it a glitch in the programme.
A contract has been signed between water and shore,
with plenty of scribbling, little plain language
and an extra sheet for crocodiles,
who aren’t showing up today because they would rather watch a series.

Somewhere at the back, in the shadows,
someone waves — perhaps a bird, perhaps a tax audit.
There is a rustling.
Perhaps it is only the wind,
perhaps it is yesterday’s news,
perhaps it is simply what remains
when no one knows whether it was a holiday or a life.

Analogue print from a slide. Southern India, 2004. 50 × 70 cm.

Shore Guardians

North Coast

Black against sand,
stone in the light.
They have stood there
longer than anyone remembers,
keeping watch
over the coming and going of the tides.
The sea takes,
the land remains. For a moment
everything rests.

One-of-a-kind analogue print from a slide. The Hebrides, 2004. 30 × 45 cm mounted on 50 × 70 cm.

Conversation at the Edge

Beach Conversation

Two shadows,
one beach —
the sea joins the conversation
without interfering.
What is shared here
the light carries away.
For a moment
the world is quiet
and wide.

Two at the Edge

They sit side by side, like shadows freshly poured out,
indistinct, a little blurred at the hem of the day,
while light shatters on the water like glass,
and everything between them
is silence with a taste of waves.
Perhaps they are speaking; perhaps it is only the outlines of words
dancing between their shoulders.
Perhaps the conversation ended long ago,
and the pause holds them together
as salt holds sand.

In the end, no one knows who leaves first.
But the picture remains.
Waves come, shadows stay,
somewhere between shore and light.

One-of-a-kind analogue print from a slide. Cape Verde, 2008. 40 × 60 cm mounted on 50 × 70 cm.

An In-between Glance

Jessie

A moment
not yet decided —
between rest and departure,
resistance and surrender.
Eyes open,
thoughts elsewhere.
Here there is time
for everything
not yet said.

One-of-a-kind baryta print. Hamburg, 2002. 30 × 45 cm mounted on 50 × 70 cm.

Far and Near

Skyline

Out there, the city,
a promise of steel and light.
In here, the silence,
just a chair,
a gaze.
Closeness remains a space,
the longing for elsewhere begins at the window.

One-of-a-kind analogue print from a slide. New York, 1999. 30 × 45 cm mounted on 50 × 70 cm.

Looking Through

Hagia Sophia

A frame within a space
draws the eye
into gold,
into stories.
What lies beyond
stays hidden
and yet open —
a glimpse through time,
never quite within reach.

One-of-a-kind analogue print from a slide. Hagia Sophia, 2005. 30 × 45 cm mounted on 50 × 70 cm.

Autumn Stillness

A jetty into mist-grey,
silence between the posts,
time crouches on the shore
and breathes slowly.
No destination, no urgency,
only the promise:
Here, everything may rest
until the light returns.

One-of-a-kind analogue print from a slide. Hamburg, 2011.

Splintered Heart

Weathered Post

Kissed by the sea,
scored by the wind —
the wood stands there,
stays open,
stays vulnerable.
Within its cracks
life gathers,
silence and time.

One-of-a-kind print from a slide. St. Peter-Ording, 2010. 30 × 45 cm mounted on 50 × 70 cm.

Sentinels

Posts

Row upon row,
they stand in the sand —
silent,
yet each bears
its own pattern.
The surf whispers,
but the wood remains.
Together against time.

One-of-a-kind print from a slide. St. Peter-Ording, 2010. 30 × 45 cm mounted on 50 × 70 cm.

Stone Point

The day draws its line —
foam dances at the edge,
the sea turns to a mirror,
land turns to light.
Between coming and going,
for a moment,
only radiance remains.

One-of-a-kind print from a slide. St. Peter-Ording. 30 × 40 cm mounted on 50 × 70 cm.

Beach Lights

An Edge of Light

The day draws its line —
foam dances at the edge,
the sea turns to a mirror,
land turns to light.
Between coming and going,
for a moment,
only radiance remains.

One-of-a-kind print from a slide. St. Peter-Ording, 2010. 30 × 40 cm mounted on 50 × 70 cm.

Traces of Folds

Tidal-flat Beach

What passes here
still leaves something behind.
A surface
that can tell it all —
wind, water, time,
a secret code
in the shifting ground.
No step is like another.

One-of-a-kind silver baryta print. Hamburg, 2005. 30 × 45 cm mounted on 50 × 70 cm.

Back on the Beach

A line of light,
sand clings to skin.
Nothing is concealed here —
only the sea is still missing.
Every fibre reveals
where strength and softness
meet.

One-of-a-kind silver baryta print. Hamburg, 2005. 30 × 45 cm mounted on 50 × 70 cm.

Sun Kisses

Starry Shoulder

Skin meets light —
the sky goes for a swim.
Sparkles gather
on a shoulder
that wants nothing
but the day’s
next kiss.

Receiving in Surrender

Two forms,
one moment —
one gives,
the other receives.
Not a word,
only a touch of light.
Where the “I” ends,
the “we” begins.
What remains
is receiving.

Silver baryta print. Wooden figure. Hamburg, 2010. 30 × 45 cm mounted on 50 × 70 cm.

Flute Player — A Note at the Threshold

Is this still a figure,
or already a breath?
A body made of light,
bronze only in the shadows.
The flute dissolves the boundary:
silence becomes sound,
and for a moment
everything lives
that is not allowed to live.

Silver baryta print. Subject: a sculpture by Camille Claudel. Hamburg, 1998. 30 × 45 cm mounted on 50 × 70 cm.

Dew Rose

Morning dew on red velvet,
each drop a promise.
The blossom holds still,
as though waiting for a word
that need not be spoken.
Enough that it glistens —
just for this moment.

Tulip Heart

Yellow at its very heart —
open to the centre.
A heart
that does not ask
but blooms.
Close enough
to see everything
that remains
when its guard falls.

Flawless? The Moment Before

Perfect Doll

Nothing is missing,
nothing moves.
Beautiful down to the last detail,
without a story.
The gaze lingers —
and suddenly you start looking for the flaw.
Perhaps that is
what is missing.

Longing Doll — Still Life in Light

Blossoms and lustre —
no heartbeat,
yet everything seems ready.
Between seeming and being,
a gaze waits
for an echo.

When the Blue Begins to Breathe

The sky wears blue like a memory,
the land breathes softly in reply.
One last bird moves through the light —
and nothing asks for more.

Analogue print from a slide. Sauerland, 2000.

A Bridge between Times

Bridge in the rain, stone in memory,
a heart of granite holding stories.
Whoever lingers here hears water thinking —
of loyalty, loss and time.

Analogue print from a slide. Scotland, 1995.

Quiet Laughter

Time has wrinkles, but no hurry.
A laugh that outwits the years.
So much sunshine in one face — without a beach in sight.

An analogue moment, printed from a slide. Bali, 2000s.

A Glance from the Stairs

Sometimes life looks up at you from below,
checking whether you really mean to climb.
Between blue and shadow, a silent dialogue —
perhaps between me and what remains.

Analogue print from a slide. La Gomera, 1995.

Point of Contact

Sometimes change lies not in movement —
but in pausing.
A gaze that stays unseen. A hand that feels.

Analogue silver gelatin print. Hamburg, around 2009.

Between the Hands

Between the hands.
No grip, no hold, no promise.
Only the space between — open, still, full of an inkling.
Perhaps closeness begins right there.

Black-and-white photograph on resin-coated paper. Subject: a figure by Camille Claudel. Hamburg, 2005.

Being in the Light

I stop where the light finds me.
Nothing is required, everything is allowed —
the day settles on my shoulders
and suddenly grows light.

Fisherman on a quay wall. Cape Verde, 2007. One-of-a-kind analogue print from a slide.

Leaping Girl

When the Sea Calls.

She still wears the day on her skin,

but her feet know the way back.

A leap straight into freedom.

For one heartbeat, the world belongs to her alone.

The sea receives her as though it had been waiting.

A pearl diver’s assistant after work. Bali, 1995. One-of-a-kind analogue print from a slide.

In-between Times

Sometimes I simply stand there,
feet in the sand, salt in the air.
The umbrella keeps nothing out —
except perhaps the world, for a moment.

Analogue print from a slide. Bali, 1992.

In the Midst

A street festival, everything in motion.
One drumbeat, everything stands still.
Smoke in the light, faces lost in thought.
Only a moment — and it stays.

What Is Life?

Is This Life?
A glass shimmering like liquid light.
A lighter, ready to kindle stories — or simply a cigarette.
A golden packet, a black frame, everything gleams — and yet so much everyday life lies between the reflections.

Life is more than what sparkles.
It is what remains when the glass is half empty and the last drag is done.
It is the fingerprints on the rim, the stains on the cardboard, that little “too much” in the evening because the day was too much or too little.

Life is:
A moment when you pause.
Staring at the light a little too long, feeling the warmth, the bittersweet taste of now and a moment from now.
Life is what you make of it — and sometimes it is only a glass, a lighter, a quiet evening and the question:
What is life?

Evening — A Celebration

It is only a glass.
And yet it holds more than wine.

A conversation still reflected on the wall.
A gaze not quite ready to let go.
A golden trace of warmth that has not yet faded.

The day lies behind us,
but not far enough away to forget.

Not everything has been put away,
not every role set aside,
not every mask gently laid to rest.

And still:
A glass.
A glow.
A moment.

Perhaps I am not drinking.
Perhaps I am only holding.
Perhaps I am waiting
for the glass to tell me whether I am still here.

Evening — a celebration.
A word dancing between fullness and fragility.
Between: I am alone.
And: I am whole.