seeds

Fragments and finds along the way. Thoughts in passing, notes that stay. Visual sketches, process marks — small lights flickering in the dark.

Woman & Horse

Symbolic Bodies

Symbolic Bodies

Again the woman appears with an animal, and again the image begins to leave the ordinary world.

The animal is never neutral. It carries old meanings into the frame. The snake sharpens the figure toward temptation and knowledge. The goose drags her toward parody, vanity, almost social grotesque. The crane lends height, elegance, distance. The horse gives her weight and legend, sensuality and force. Each pairing becomes a different instrument of elevation.

That is the temptation of these images, and also their danger.

The woman is intensified by the animal, but she is also stylized through it. She begins to hover between body and emblem, between person and figure. The image wants more than depiction. It wants myth. And precisely there it risks becoming too smooth, too charged, too certain of its own beauty.

The animated sequence opens this closed beauty again. The horse rises, breathes, snorts. The animal interrupts the pose. Symbol becomes body. And the image briefly recovers tension.

Joerg Alexander, Florianopolis, March. 25

Woman & Object

Blue Ore

Blue Ore

Elusive. We do not see where cobalt, nickel, lithium, copper are taken. We hold them as devices, batteries, screens, cables, speed. The body is where value is fixed, captured, controlled. What is called poor is often what is being mined.

Joerg Alexander, Florianopolis, Feb. 25

After the Body

On Compulsory Protheses

The autonomous body belongs to an earlier imagination. What remains is a host body, fitted with extensions, interfaces, and replacements. The prothesis was once visible and rare. Now it is ambient, ordinary, almost impossible to name. The phone no longer behaves like a tool. It functions like an organ of timing, attention, and recall. Permanent connection appears as convenience, yet works as obligation: less support than tether. Freedom changes its texture. It survives, but in negotiated form — distributed across flesh, device, and network, sustained by the quiet reflex of never fully going offline.

Hommage to Aimee Mullins (1975)

Counterforms

Study in Volume, Pose and Defiance

In this three-part seed, the body refuses to become an obedient line.

The corset remembers old laws of beauty, but breath, flesh, and gesture answer with their own grammar, soft and ungovernable. A trace of New York underground lingers here, through John Waters and Divine: excess as truth, camp as clarity, dignity inside exaggeration. What appears at first as pose becomes a small revolt, where pressure turns into presence, and presence becomes form.

Hommage to John Waters (1946) and Divine (1945-1988)

Body Volumes

Balancing Inner Weights

Body Volumes explores the body as a site of pressure, containment, and transformation. Inflated forms become a second anatomy, balancing fragility and force inside decaying architectural space. The work nods to South African photographer Phumzile Khanyile, whose series Plastic Crowns uses balloons as charged symbols of intimacy, power, and social expectation.

Hommage to Phumzile Khanyile (1991, Soweto).

Backside View

Smoking kills

When the body turns, the self does not disappear. It opens into a layered personality carried by posture, skin, and gaze. The back becomes both vulnerable and constructed, the hand with the cigarette becomes ritual and control, the averted face withholds narrative, and the redirected gaze speaks as a second voice inside the same body.

It is revelation. In the refusal of frontal presence, desire performs itself, and desire consumes itself. Desire kills.

A slow internal drift follows, in which one person becomes several versions of the self.

Backside View is a layered performance: unstable, split, and always negotiated between body and gaze.

Hommage an Jürgen Klauke (geb. 1943).

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

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.“

Whose gaze is 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.