houses | antimatter | signs | creatures | new | about my art
The images in the gallery can be enlarged in two steps
Prints are available in small editions, also framed on request, at Artmajeur.com, Artmo.com and Singulart.com. Singulart has the largest selection, the other platforms are gradually being expanded. Printing is carried out by the renowned Whitewall laboratory. I don't use AI.
I wanted to be as tall
as my mother saw me.
With holy horror
I wander through the ruins.
Little birds live under my hat.
If I set them free, they die.
The end of numbers
A countdown - a picture about the temporal limits of life. The girl in the center of the picture remains alive, while life around her is frozen in its structures. The collage perhaps shows how conforming to social expectations can imprison a person until the end of their life. I don't know whether it is sad or reassuring that the person remains alive at the core.
Friendship,
that is when a sea
brings forth a city full of music.
Some people forget
that the universe is a music box.
I give birth to worlds
and drag them behind me on umbilical cords.
Little homes.
When they die, I hang them in the wind.
When you speak to me,
the words have gone through a forest.
And I smell the earth,
in which we all sleep.
The fairy tale of the wondrous hand
A picture about the soul of a child. The collage shows loneliness, mask-like demons, but also the “miraculous hand” that protects the child and holds it in a dreamlike state of suspension. The picture was created in several stages until I was finally satisfied. I was living in a precarious situation at the time and felt threatened from many sides. Not a “beautiful” picture, but it is particularly close to my heart.
I wrote the word
in the language of the constellations
from boards and metal.
As sacred junk
I threw it into the air.
Maternity room
A marshy lowland near Greifswald on the German Baltic coast. Only the door indicates that this is a transition. An entrance to an invisible world. The ensemble looks deserted and uninviting. No path leads to the door. In fact, the door is far too small for anyone to go through. Despite everything, there is the idea that everything could be different behind it. And perhaps it is.
The old couple.
Tired, they drive their stake into life.
She is more door, he is more window.
Their touch is old and beautiful
like a constellation.
Go ahead and freeze, it looks good.
Preserve your dreams as a matrix.
Turn yourself into a symbolic image.
Go digital, because life stinks.
Whoever breathes doesn't get a design prize.
The world as Lisa's guest
Clear frosty air. An icy wind from the sea.
A diffuse mass of thoughts and feelings condenses into a radiant vision.