seeds
Fragments and finds along the way. Thoughts in passing, notes that stay. Visual sketches, process marks — small lights flickering in the dark.
Liebe ist kälter als der Tod
Love is a chamber. A closed room – never innocent. Fassbinder knew: affection becomes a weapon, tenderness turns to control. Intimacy is a battlefield, silence loaded, glances cutting deeper than words. The staging is deliberately artificial: colors too saturated, poses too perfect, the atmosphere suffocating. Like in a chamber play, needs collide as the green walls close in.
Love as prison. Desire as trap. Intimacy as final illusion.
Liebe ist Kälter als der Tod , Movie by ‚Rainer Werner Fassbinder‘ 1969
Belonging
The camera meets eyes that carry what cannot be spoken: exhaustion as strength, vulnerability as failure. Here boys learn which parts of themselves are acceptable. Which must be buried. Small wounds mark the price of belonging. Toughness demanded, tenderness forbidden.
The visible marks fade. The invisible ones don’t.
Das Fest
„After the dinner. „
Das Fest, (Dogma 95), Movie by ‚Thomas Vinterberg‘ 1998
Traces
The image holds us between two poles: knowing and perceiving. We may know that it could be artificial, constructed, generated – and yet the eye insists on treating it as a lived moment.
The impression is not erotic in a consumable sense, but inward, almost ritual. The small trace of tongue becomes a fissure, a point where the hidden presses through. One sees, and at the same time one sees that something is missing.
This is the paradox: the eye perceives presence as if it were real, even when the mind knows it may not be. The image demonstrates that seeing is never neutral – it is always caught between perception and knowledge, between what appears and what escapes.
Dudas de Isabell
Doubt is not a deficiency, but a state of thought. A pause that widens the gaze: the eye no longer stepping into the world, but falling back into itself.
Drift
The music no one hears, but everyone carries. Silence, tuned like a string.
Memories
„Photography begins with arrangement – placing one beside another, letting time appear in the space between.“
Who's gaze ist it?
This portrait carries a strange double message. At first glance, it’s a classic studio portrait: soft light, the silky sheen of fabric, the tilted head pose – almost like an echo of fashion photography from past decades. Yet beneath it lies something more unruly.
The posture is neither clearly provocative nor submissive. It sits in between -confident, yes, but not in a “look at me, I love myself” way. Rather, as if pulling back from the gaze. The slightly averted head speaks of pride, but also of a trace of skepticism: Whose gaze is this? Mine? Yours?
If you link it to self-love, then it’s precisely in that ambivalence. Self-love is not a poster with hearts and affirmations. It is fragile, contradictory, at times defiant. The image does not tell of a polished ideal, but of inhabiting one’s body, feeling the weight of how the world looks at you, and still deciding: I will stay here.
It feels less like an answer to the question of self-love, and more like holding on to the question itself.
Herbert
Herbert carries time, not as weight, but as witness
Taylor
Silence is the weapon, or the wound.
Chromatic Divide
The wall is cleaved into blue and fire; his profile rests on the fault line between memory and the present.
Ocean Surf
The generative real is tireless. Like waves, it never repeats – yet always returns. More true than truth: not what is, but what insists.
A Glitch in the Matrix
You look through grids. Through compression. A fracture in the image – revealing the instability beneath what once seemed whole.
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