WORK

The cloud draws ever closer, on the verge of expanding more and more—like a heart that longs to be wide, open, and full, yet wonders whether it might come to regret it. But what choice does it have?

75 x 100 cm, fine art print, framed in a 6 cm deep, gold‒colored aluminum frame; edition 1/1, making it a unique piece. Each of my works is accompanied by a poem I have written, which the buyer receives along with the artwork.

Poem in German (original):

Mein Herz so weit

Der Puls schlägt schneller, wenn ich dich sehe
Die Pupillen weiten sich in deiner Dunkelheit
Du fängst mich ein mit deiner Samtstimme

Du machst es weit
mein sich selbst empfindendes Herz
das nicht anders schlagen kann als
dich dich dich
hundertmal in der Minute

Du öffnest mir die Brust
Die Zukunft auf deinen Lippen
Rot in meinem Gesicht
Farbe ist Demut

Und im goldenen Glanz meiner Haut
schimmern die Träume
von einem Herz, das es nicht bereuen muss
so weit und groß und weich
geworden zu sein.

Translation:

My heart so wide

My pulse quickens when I see you,
my pupils dilate in your darkness.
You catch me—
with the velvet of your voice.

You make it wide,
my self-feeling heart,
that cannot help but beat
you, you, you—
a hundred times per minute.

You open my chest,
the future on your lips,
red upon my face.
Color is humility.

And in the golden glow of my skin,
dreams shimmer—
of a heart that will never regret
becoming so wide,
so vast,
so soft.

Inhabiting the Moss captures thawing frost on moss, glistening in the sunlight. The atmosphere is intangible, like in a dream. Grease obstructs a clear view.
The accompanying poem says: entering the forest means coming home.
"The moss whispers: Do not surrender."


75 × 100 cm, textile print on glossy fabric, mounted on a 60 mm stretcher frame; edition 1/1 and therefore a unique piece. Each of my images is accompanied by a poem written by me, which the buyer receives along with the artwork.

Poem in German (original):

Das Moos bewohnen

In den Wald kommen ist zuhause sein
mit nackten Füßen auf Moos
das Gefühl halb Wasser, halb Pflanze

Am Grund staut sich das schwindende Licht
Perlen reihen sich auf grünen Fingern

Und Nacht drängt auf die Erde
wie Tintenfässer Dunkelheit
Das Licht verengt sich auf den kleinsten Punkt
In grünen Ästen fließt eiskaltes Blut'

In seiner Sprache singt das Moos
„Ergib dich nicht“
Und ich verlor die Kraft
mich weiter festzuhalten

Ich legte mich auf konzentrierten Glanz
und wusste doch „Ich bin jetzt angekommen“.

Translation:

Inhabiting the moss

To enter the forest is to be at home
bare feet on moss—
a feeling half water, half plant.

At the ground, the fading light pools,
pearls lining up on green fingers
as night presses into the earth
like inkwells spilling darkness.

The light narrows to the smallest point;
ice-cold blood flows through green branches.
in its own tongue, the moss sings:
“Do not surrender.”

And I lost the strength
to hold on any longer.

I lay down on concentrated radiance
and knew at last: I have arrived.

A quote from the accompanying poem: "And then, on the first evening of January, the door opened and a reserve of red pushed through the crack of the December cellar into the sky. There they were, flowing down like cherry juice and ink." It was the sky of January 1st, 2025.


50 x 70 cm, fine art print, matte laminated and mounted on Alu‒Dibond, framed in natural oak; edition 1/1, making it a unique piece. Each of my works is accompanied by a poem I have written, which the buyer receives along with the artwork.

Poem in German (original):

Tiefrot endet der Tag

Wochenlang lag alles da in Grautönen
Das Licht am Morgen
Das Holz der Stämme
Meine Haut im Spiegel

Ein Jahr, das sein Verfallsdatum überschritten hat und keine Farbe mehr übrig in den Lagerstätten der Monate
Nur fahle Reste in Umbra und Granit
Selbst Weiß war Schlamm

Und dann am ersten Januarabend öffnete sich die Tür und ein Vorrat an Rot drängte durch den Spalt des Dezemberkellers in den Himmel

Da waren sie, flossen hinab wie Kirschsaft und Tinte, so verschwenderisch, dass man fast Angst bekommen konnte es bliebe nichts mehr übrig für all die anderen langen Tage
und die Farben tasteten nach meinen Wangen als haben sie an diesem Abend ein ganzes Leben nachzuholen.

Translation:

Deep red ends the day

For weeks, everything lay sleeped in shades of grey –
the morning light,
the wood of the trunks,
my skin in the mirror.

A year past its exploration date, with no color left in the storehouses of the months.

Only pale remnants in umber and granite.
Even white was sludge.

And then, on the first evening of January, a door opened, and a reserve of red pressed through the crack from December's cellar into the sky.
There they were – flowing down like cherry juice and ink, so lavishly one almost feared nothing would remain for all the other long days.
And the colors reached out to touch my cheeks as if they had an entire lifetime to make up for on this very night.

An icy winter day, when you can see the trees reflected in the forest floor and dried grasses frozen in ice turn into a golden treasure. Those who thirst are quickly deceived, for all that remains of the water is a mere illusion.


75 × 100 cm, textile print on glossy fabric, mounted on a 60 mm stretcher frame; edition 1/1 and therefore a unique piece. Each of my images is accompanied by a poem written by me, which the buyer receives along with the artwork.

Poem in German (original):

Trinken vom Licht

Tief im Wald gibt es eine Stelle
an der das Licht wie ein Vorhang
auf den eisverspiegelten Boden fällt

Bei jedem Schritt kannst du es brechen und knistern hören.
Es sammelt sich das Blau gefrorenen Atems
und das Gold vergehender Feuer
rauchlos am Ufer

Beim Betrachten empfindest du
tiefe Sehnsucht
nach Wärme und der Gewissheit
eines wiederkehrenden Sommers

Und kommt ein Tier, ein Reh vielleicht,
an diese Stelle, so wird es leicht getäuscht
denn es gibt nur Eis und Spiegelbäume

Und ihm bleibt nichts anderes übrig
als seinen Durst mit Licht zu stillen.

Translation:

Drinking from light

Deep in the forest, there is a place
where light falls like a curtain
0nto the ice-mirrored ground.

With every step, you can hear it break and crackle.

Blue breath gathers in the air,
and the gold of fading fires—
smokeless by the shore.

As you look, you feel a deep longing
for warmth and the certainty
of a returning summer.

And should a creature come— a deer, perhaps—
to this place, it is gently deceived,
for there is only ice and mirrored trees.

And it has no choice
but to quench its thirst with light.

What is precious? What makes life special, rich, and beautiful? It is always the light. It is all we have. Without light, nothing would exist — there would be no life, no hope, no gold in the sky, and no diamonds in the forest.

75 × 100 cm, fine art print mounted on aluminum dibond, framed in a high-quality 5 cm deep aluminum frame with a cool gold tone; edition 1/1 and therefore a unique piece. Each of my pieces is accompanied by a poem written by me, which the buyer receives along with the artwork.

Poem in German (original):

So kostbar das Licht

Im Lichtschein der Wolken
zeigt sich goldblühend durchsonnt

Sirup auf Wiesen
Silbernes Wasser
Stämme wie dunkler Kakao

Die Träume schimmern am Saum der Wälder
Hundertfarbig zerrissene Luft
Das Zirpen von Grillen
Eine Echse auf Stein

Sei still

Ich kann nie etwas schaffen
was schöner und ehrlicher ist
was kostbarer ist
als all dieses Licht

Translation:

So precious the light

In the glow of the clouds
gold-blooming, sun-soaked

syrup on meadows
silvery water
trunks like darkened cocoa

dreams shimmer at the hem of the forest
hundred-colored-torn air
the chirping of crickets
a lizard on stone

Be still

I can never create
anything more beautiful and more honest
more precious
than all this light

One of my most personal pieces. It says everything there is to say about a time that was once heavy. Now, when I look at it, there is something comforting in it. It received an Honorable Mention at the Annual Photography Awards 2024.

50 x 50 cm, fine art print, matte laminated and mounted on Alu‒Dibond, framed in natural wood; edition 1/1, making it a unique piece. Each of my works is accompanied by a poem I have written, which the buyer receives along with the artwork.

Poem in German (original):

Am Grund

Fallen wie Sirup
so träge und satt
auf den Grund auf das Bett in den Schacht

Ein Pendeln in Schwere
und Wallen von Kleidern
und Haaren und Herzen und Nacht

Ich liege in Sträuchern
am Boden am Boden
von Dornen durchbohrt meine Haut

Denn das Moos deiner Brust
das ich glaubte zu finden
fängt mich schon lang nicht mehr auf

So fließ ich am Grund
zähes Treiben in Bahnen
in die Nacht und den folgenden Tag

Translation:

At the bottom

Falling like syrup
so heavy and full
to the ground, to the bed, to the shaft

A swaying in weight
and billowing of dresses
and hair and hearts and night

I lie in the thicket
on the ground, on the ground
my skin pierced by thorns

For the moss of your chest
I once thought I would find
has long since ceased to catch me

So I drift along the bottom
a slow current in motion
into the night and the following day.

Structures repeat themselves, patterns repeat themselves. The forest floor under frost becomes an entire galaxy, a universe with mist and black holes. Just as the sky can draw me in, so can the ground. We are between worlds.

75 × 100 cm, fine art print mounted on aluminum dibond, matte laminated, framed in oak; edition 1/1 and therefore a unique piece. Each of my images is accompanied by a poem written by me, which the buyer receives along with the artwork.

Poem in German (original):

Universum zu unseren Füßen

Ich lese aus Sternen deinen Namen
Zieh mich in das dunkle Grün
damit ich das Licht besser sehe

Ich liebe den Geruch von Erde
und das Aufblitzen von Frost
zu unseren Füßen

Flüchtig wie die Konstellation eines Gestirns
Einmal blinzeln und es ist fort

Über mir ein voller Himmel
unter mir ein voller Himmel

Ich öffne die Augen
Das All ist Wald geworden.

Translation:

Universe at our feet

I read your name among the stars
Draw me into darkest green
to let me see the light more clearly.

I love the scent of earth
and the glint of frost
at our feet—

fleeting as the constellation of a star,
one blink and it is gone.

Above me: sky in full;
beneath me: sky in full.

I open my eyes—
the universe is forest now.

To rebel against the cold, to cry while watching reels of people being kind for no reason, to let kindness reign —uncompromisingly— and to shine in both bright and shadowed tones, rising like those clouds on an autumn day in Munich.

92 x 92 cm, fine art print mounted on Alu‒Dibond, matte laminated, framed in an oak shadow gap frame; edition 1/1, making it a unique piece. Each of my artworks is accompanied by a poem written by me, which the buyer receives along with the piece.

Poem (Original in German)

Mild sein mit ganzer Wucht

Die Dinge ändern, indem man nicht die Dinge verschiebt,
sondern sich selbst.

Sich jederzeit gestatten, weich zu sein
doch bei Bedarf zusammenziehen
und halten gegen Widerstand

Und Anderen ebenso gestatten
die Form organisch-fließend anzupassen

Weich das Licht einfangen
in wolkenweiten Maschen

und jedes mal mit ganzer Wucht
Milde walten lassen

gegen die Welt und vor allem auch sich selbst.

Translation

To be mild with all one's might
To change things—not by shifting the things themselves,
but by shifting oneself.

To always allow softness,
yet, when needed, to draw in
and hold firm against resistance.

To grant others the same:
the freedom to adapt their shape
in an organic, flowing way.

To gently catch the light
in cloud-wide weaves—

and each time,
to let gentleness reign
with full force—

toward the world, and most of all, toward oneself.

In summer, the forest floor sometimes feels so much like the ocean floor, with its swaying ferns and shrubs. Sunlight ripples across the green, and everything falls quiet—as if, in the stillness, you might hear the colors more clearly.

50 x 50 cm, fine art print, matte laminated and mounted on Alu‒Dibond, framed in natural wood; edition 1/1, making it a unique piece. Each of my works is accompanied by a poem I have written, which the buyer receives along with the artwork.

Poem in German (original):

Wenn nur flüstern
Das Grün zerbricht
in Kraut und Moos und Farn

Die Sonne löscht das Licht
in warmen Schatten

Ich taste all das Waldgeflüster
dieser Wesen

Das Singsang Kratzen Rascheln Lachen
Ich kreise stumm, naturbetäubt
vor Käfern Flechten Zweigen.

Ich fühl mich fremd in ihrem Reich
und kann nur schweigend bleiben.

Translation:

Only a whisper

The green breaks apart
into herb and moss and fern

The sun extinguishes the light
into warm shadow

I trace the forest’s whispered secrets—
these beings,
their singing, scratching, rustling, laughter

I drift in silence, nature-dazed,
in front of beetles, lichens, branches.

I feel like a stranger in their realm
and can only stay in silence.

The photograph captures evening light breaking through tree trunks. The light has an almost underwater quality. A paradoxical aesthetic emerges—both beautiful and dangerous. One viewer told me she could smell fire. At the same time, it evokes our responsibility toward nature.

50 x 70 cm, fine art print, matte laminated and mounted on Alu‒Dibond, framed in natural oak; edition 1/1, making it a unique piece. Each of my works is accompanied by a poem I have written, which the buyer receives along with the artwork.

Poem in German (original):

Brennende Erde

Die Stämme werden lose
und Bäume fasern im Nebel

Mein Blick schwimmt
durch Waldmeer aus Umbra und Gold.

Da ist kein Himmel mehr
da ist kein Halt

Der Wald hält all die Erinnerungen

Einsamkeit aus Gras
Glück zwischen Heidelbeeren
Verlangen im Gesang der Vögel

Die Wälder lesen Geschichten
mit brüchigen Stimmen

Wann erntet ihr das Feuer?
Wir brennen
in magischer Schönheit.


Translation:

Burning ground

The trunks grow loose
and trees fray into mist.

My gaze drifts
through a sea of forest, umber and gold.

There is no heaven anymore,
no ground beneath—
the forest holds all the memories:

loneliness from grass,
happiness between blueberries,
longing in songs of birds.

The woods read stories
in brittle voices.

When will you harvest the fire?
We are burning
in magical beauty.

Blue skies are always most special when small clouds begin to form—when I can make out shapes, objects, and figures. A smile, perhaps, or the wing of an eagle or an angel. That is spring.

50 × 75 cm, fine art print mounted on aluminum dibond, matte laminated, framed in oak; edition 1/1 and therefore a unique piece. Each of my images is accompanied by a poem written by me, which the buyer receives along with the artwork.

Poem in German (original):

Die Welt lächelt mir zu

Es ist kein Fitzel Nacht mehr übrig

Es ist vollständig Tag
Vollständig Blau
Vollständig Weiß
Vollständig Frühling

Selbst in der letzten Ecke der Wiesen
Kein Laub kein Schnee

Das Leben geht wieder nach Draußen
Haut in der Sonne
Schmatzendes Grün
Farben auf voller Lautstärke

Bald gibt es
Tage am See
Melone und Eis
Korallenrot lackierte Nägel

Und die Welt lächelt mir zu.


Translation:

The world smiles at me

There’s not a shred of night left.

It is fully day.
Fully blue.
Fully white.
Fully spring.

Even in the farthest corners of the meadows.
No leaves, no snow.

Life is moving outside again.
Skin in the sun.
Lush, smacking green.
Colors fully tuned.

Soon there will be
days by the lake,
melon and ice cream,
nails painted coral red—

and the world smiles at me.