Somewhere in the wide area of ​​tension between life, love and death, hope always arises.

Most of the time hope simmers inconspicuously in the undergrowth, it gathers strongly or accumulates rebelliously. Now and then it spills over excessively.
How does hope arise? Where does hope actually come from? What does it protect you from? How does it feel to be seemingly hopeless? What does hope direct you towards? How does your personal hope feel? How does it look today? Deep and black? Glistening white? Golden or poisonous yellow? Blood red? Turquoise like the sea?
Is it flawless? Scratched? Strong, matte or smooth? Worn, purposeful or embarrassingly small?
Taking photos in a certain type of light, like that day, makes you feel empowered and confident. I feel the mission or even the duty to enjoy life in all its facets, to appreciate it, to celebrate it and to elevate those I love.

I began with “All Colors of Hope” around the death of a friend - and yet it is universally valid: everyone knows these fragile and at the same time powerful moments of transition, of being all-one, of simultaneous connection and loneliness. And yes: Hope can be mined even in the deepest depths you have ever passed through.

From the work cycle of five images each year: Hope 2022–2026