The strongest impulse in my work is my own life, an interplay of contradictions: the beautiful becomes ugly, the ugly beautiful. The romantic collides with the radical. In this way, indirectly, I generate an autobiographical chronicle, one that finds its way onto the walls as a patchwork of photographs. Also granted to me are dreams: during the night, I journey to an inaccessible continent, one that can never be relocated. As a child, I even slept once on the hood of a car, my body adapting itself to the form of the VW Beetle. I sleep so soundly that everything that thrusts out from my dreams wants to emerge from the blackness into the light. My pictures always strive toward the light. Perhaps that is because my photographic ego needs to seek out nocturnal, invisible places, to uncover them and to capture them in images. My photographs set cornerstones at the extremes, oscillating between height and depth, positive and negative, eliminating the middle.
My gaze, however, not only contains a clear view from the mountaintops, but also a view of the dark valley lying below the cloud cover. If one contemplates the slick surface of my photographs long enough, they open themselves, telling my story, so filled with discrepancies, and expressing the personal, isolation and yearning, beauty and terror, as well as naturalness and artificiality. Perceived initially in aesthetic terms, these pure images become intensified and their central theme of fragility emerges, one that is nonetheless underlain with love.