Ready for the island

Timeless –
in the middle of the ‚Bavarian Sea‘

Sometimes I get a strange feeling:
As if people think we are incredibly naive.

Whether in everyday neighbourhood life, in a professional context, in newsletters, on social media or in conversations with service providers – occasionally you encounter explanations that seem more staged than honest. They are creative, you have to admit. Almost an art form in themselves.

Is it really necessary to string together clever excuses and elegantly package subtle manipulations?

I sometimes ask myself: Do people really think this goes unnoticed?
Or has it become socially acceptable to simply go along with these subtle distortions?

It doesn’t work for me.
Fake newsletters remain unread.
I question half-baked arguments in a friendly manner – initially trusting in the good. Contradictions usually emerge quickly. Asking questions doesn’t always go down well. Why is that?

Is it really satisfying to persuade people to do something they wouldn’t do without skilful rhetoric?
Wouldn’t a respectful, honest exchange on equal terms be much easier – and more sustainable?

Authenticity instead of algorithms

Especially on social media, the ‘social’ aspect often seems to become a statistic. Reach, algorithms, optimisation, strategic wording. Sometimes expensive recommendations on what works – which images, headlines and keywords generate more attention.

Once, I received well-intentioned advice to post things that would get lots of likes – and to change my carefully designed profile picture in order to supposedly gain more followers.
My intuition was clear:
That’s not me.

Credibility does not come from conformity, but from authenticity.
Authenticity is not a marketing tool. It is an attitude.

I also see art not only as freedom, but as a process. Styles change, priorities shift, new projects emerge. That’s what makes artistic work alive. And so I’m looking forward to soon realising a photographic project that has been growing inside me for a long time and is very close to my heart.

Ideas, appreciation and a little experience

Ideas are the capital of artistic work. They arise intuitively, develop into images, texts, concepts – into something independent with attitude.

At this point, I am reminded of a lovely little incident at a family celebration:
I gave the birthday boy a planted bowl with edible herbs – lovingly depicting the ‘round’ age. Another guest was so enthusiastic that he asked me directly if he could adopt the idea – perhaps in a modified form.

When I spontaneously said ‘Of course!’, he thanked me warmly and sincerely.

This natural respect and appreciation touched me. It can be that simple.

Perhaps that is precisely where the difference lies: not simply adopting ideas, phrases, words and images publicly, but treating them and their original source of inspiration with care.

Important, authentic, bread-winning – ideally also for the originator of the idea.

With this in mind, institutions that are open to new ideas in the field of artistic and experimental photography may find this offer
interesting: Individual workshops for groups

An inspiring exchange on equal terms can be just as valuable – especially within artistic associations. Dialogue, resonance and joint reflection not only enrich one’s own work, but also strengthen the cultural landscape as a whole.

Perhaps this is precisely where the true sustainability of art begins: in open, respectful cooperation.

Sometimes I get a strange feeling:
As if people think we are incredibly naive.

Whether in everyday neighborhood life, in a professional context, in newsletters, on social media, or in conversations with service providers – occasionally you encounter explanations that seem more staged than honest. They are creative, you have to admit. Almost an art form in themselves.

Especially on social media, the “social” aspect often seems to become a statistic. Reach, algorithms, optimization, strategic wording. Recommendations on what works – which images, headlines, keywords generate more attention.

I sometimes ask myself: Do people really think this isn’t noticeable?
Or has it become socially acceptable to just play along?

Island time in the ‘Bavarian Sea’

If the little dramas of everyday life become too much for you from time to time, then I know where to go.

To the South Seas
or the Scandinavian fjords?
One possibility. But there is an easier option, at least for me: to a small island in the largest lake entirely within Bavaria, Lake Chiemsee—often referred to as the “Bavarian Sea.”

The small, car-free island, Fraueninsel, is only about 600 metres long and 300 metres wide. It is surrounded by a 1.5-kilometre-long shore path. It formed after the last Ice Age, and its history goes back about 1,200 years, with the founding of the Frauenwörth Monastery.

Going there without a camera?
Hard to imagine for me.

It is certainly popular with tourists, especially in the summer months.
However, my personal favourite time to visit is in autumn and winter – as the picture show above also shows.

The intense shades of blue, green and red, the light, the clear air – and that special tranquillity that sets in when the last ferry has departed. Those who stay overnight experience a different world: vastness. Silence. Time.

The thousand-year-old lime tree in particular impresses me every time I see it – a living testimony to both permanence and change.

An island to breathe deeply. To observe. To gather new ideas. To recharge your inner ‘batteries’. And, of course, to take photographs – timeless and full of motifs.

(Almost) regardless of the location, which may seem unspectacular at first glance: I am happy to share my experiences in special photography workshops —for institutions that are open to new ideas in the field of artistic and experimental photography, or in small, individual groups. I look forward to receiving your inquiry!

In conclusion

Last but not least – bringing things full circle, historically and fittingly for this picturesque place that has been visited by many artists – a small painted exercise on my first canvas, which I stretched and primed myself in the old academic tradition. I still remember well the ‘intensive painting seminar’ I attended. Years later, I learned that the lecturer from back then is now a professor at an art college.

Sometimes it is precisely these approaches – honest, searching, experimental – that endure.

And perhaps the true art of living lies not in skilful concealment, but in courageous authenticity.

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