Blog / Chronik

Back in 2023 when I was in my first artist residency, I made the realization that I put a lot of pressure on myself with my art and decided to make an effort not to do that again. Fast forward to recent days. I’m in a couple commercial galleries, starting to break into the Boston art scene, and have been asked to give a presentation to the Newport Photo Guild about my work. Wow–I’m really building something here.
But I realized again that I’m putting an awful lot of pressure on myself. When I go out for a photoshoot, in the back of my mind I’m thinking about if the photo will be good for my project, for a gallery show, or whatever else I might want to use it for. There’s always got to be some purpose for the photos I’m taking. I’m losing sight of just having fun.
My solution? Try something completely new and different.
In this photograph, I’m holding up the very first monotype I’ve ever made. It’s not very good… but that’s fine! It was a wonderful experience to create something without pressure or cares if it’s a new best seller. I also recently started creating collages, and now I’m taking an etching class. All to simply get out of my own head and create without a purpose. Just fun!

FFJG+45 Kingston, South Kingstown, RI

What will come next? Right now it’s that question that applies not only to the future but also to my past.

It just came over me last week. Out of the blue. A pretty unexplainable reason to tidy up my archive, find a new order, and the hardest part for me, to decide which things to let go of, which ones I release after decades of holding everything close – and: finally laying a foundation for forgetting, to make room for the new.

In doing so, many things and memories surface. Very personal things I haven’t had in front of my eyes for an unbelievably long time and memories from deeply buried in my hippocampus. Often it’s a cheerful reunion, sometimes exciting, then sad, and occasionally quite embarrassing (like finding my old mixtapes).

It’s like following a trail of breadcrumbs back into my past—a trail I left for myself to see how much I’ve changed over the years (no more collecting habit), where I’ve more or less obviously grown (my first attempts with photo editing software are a decent witness here), where I’m still the same old guy (like a hearty love for pop culture and humor in any form), and where painful shards of the past still linger inside me (as i recently read in some old love letters from the 90s).

There are still some breadcrumbs left here that I want to follow soon. It’s fascinating – this fine line between liking and having to. And it’s nice to notice in myself how this liking is connected with consistency, curiosity, courage, openness, and ultimately: the willingness to let go.

66WM+2V6 Leonding

Look closely. Do you see it?
A funny little detail, which I missed until I got home later to look at the photo.
A Foggy Day. I hadn’t even noticed that’s what was playing on my car’s speakers as I was stopped at the intersection… on a foggy day.
It made me think of all the funny little coincidences that happen to me. How I speak about something, and suddenly there it is. How I think about someone, and suddenly there’s a call from them on my phone. I tell people I’m a great manifestor, but I don’t know that what happens to me is special.
I think what it really comes down to is noticing. Opening yourself up to the possibilities. Seeing opportunity. If you go through life distracted and confused, you’ll miss all these funny little coincidences. But when you pay attention to each moment, magic starts to appear.
I think that’s also the secret to Stefan’s New Year’s Resolution of trusting in the good to appear. It’s there! Open your eyes and you’ll see it.

What you are looking for will be right in front of your eyes.

FGWV+3M Saunderstown, North Kingstown, RI

I was driving along in my car, almost in a trance. A grey day. Rain. No snow. No pre-Christmas idyll. Then, as I glanced out my right car window, I saw – contrary to all weather forecasts – that scene from above. A quiet, yet unmistakably astonished “Oha!” escaped me (a softly yet firmly whispered Austrian word, expressing overwhelming surprise). I slammed on the brakes, grabbed my phone, shifted into reverse, and took this completely unplanned and unexpected photo during the golden hour, somewhere amidst the lonesome fields of Upper Austria.

It often just happens that the unexpectedly good appears. Trusting in that more will be one of my resolutions for the new year. Actually I don’t like resolutation but this one feels different. Staying active. Staying attentive. Being less blinded by very specific expectations. Allowing myself to be surprised more often – in all directions. Oha!

3XGH+3W3 Ritzendorf

when will i feel better? i just want to get back to normal!
am i even improving?
why don’t i feel well yet? it’s been weeks!
i want to go out photographing. i want to go to the gym.
i want to take a sunset stroll on the beach. i want to go for a hike. i want to walk around the city. i want to walk around town.
what a bummer to feel this way.
at least there’s the hope that someday i will feel better. some people don’t even have that.

Lots of thoughts. Some days I feel better, some worse. Every day I’m tired, weary, fatigued.
On “My Saturday,” I decided to go to Galilee. I planned on walking around the beach and the town, taking photos of the sunset and the full moon rise. I was so looking forward to it–it’s been weeks since I got to take photos. It’s good for my soul to have my camera in hand.
But… I was just too tired. I had been coughing all day. I knew if I tried to walk anywhere, it would be too much for me. I sat in my car in the beach parking lot, watching the sun reach towards the horizon, feeling disappointed.
Then I decided, as I often do, to make the best of things. I started the car and drove down the street. The wonderful thing about where I live is you don’t have to go far to find beauty. I pulled over on the side of the road, bundled up in my winter hat and scarf, and took it all in. No walking, no pushing myself. Just a roadside view that gets passed by hundreds of people every day as they zoom down the road towards the ferry. I surprised myself by taking 7 photos. Once the sun dipped below the horizon, I got back in the car and drove away.

While I want to feel better, of course, I suppose I should use this time to rest. Perhaps it’s the universe’s way of telling me to slow down and take it easy. Admittedly, I have a habit of taking on too much. Though I’m eager to get back to my normal routine, I’m going to try to enjoy this in some way. It’s easy enough to be sad for no good reason; can we be happy for no good reason too?

9FHQ+MR Narragansett, Rhode Island

“The world is complex and contradictory.”.  

This is one of the phrases that has been crossing my mind repeatedly lately. The deep human longing for everything to be logical and simple. And yet, if it were, life would probably feel quite barren. The incomprehensible complexity of life is, at least in my opinion, a kind of metaphysical “perpetuum mobile” that continuously spits out wonders. Be it friendships that, against all odds, suddenly “happen” (a warm wink goes out to Rhode Island) or seemingly trivial things like reflections or thoughts that travel through this miraculous complexity across the world, only to be rediscovered, expanded, altered, or even remixed over and over again.

The saying my this week’s blogpost is all about originates, so the story goes, in Central Russia in the mind of the author Andrei Platonovich Platonov. It comes from a dialogue in his utopian-philosophical book “Chevengur”, which revolves around two people talking about a fish. Years later it’s this passage that catches the attention of the controversial Serbian filmmaker Emir Kusturica, who incorporates the thought of that dialogue into the lyrics of a song for the soundtrack of one of his more famous films. That song is sung by none other than Iggy Pop and finds its way into my head sometime in the mid-’90s, from where it now embarks on yet another journey through this blog post.

The phrase, the story, the dialogue, the lyrics goes as follows:

This is a film about a man and a fish…this is a film about dramatic relationship between man and fish…the man stands between life and death…the man thinks…the horse thinks…the sheep thinks…the cow thinks…the dog thinks

The fish doesn’t think…the fish is mute…expressionless

The fish doesn’t think…because the fish knows…everything

The fish knows… … everything.

PS. I’m no vegetarian. At least not yet.

3Q3G+4W Schwanenstadt

One always has to go somewhere.
Overcoming it. Ugh.
The first milestone: that thick winter coat (clumsy).
Wind.
Crunching snow.
Hand on the ice: not too thick. Good. (It’ll probably get worse.)
A second spark of relief: no frozen doors. (It’ll probably get worse.)
The double déjà vu: that feeling of needing the ice scraper again after months, touching it, remembering how it feels in my hand (And: the memory of last year. When I almost used a very similar photo for this blog.)

The ice: like butter. Good. (It’s okay if it gets worse.)
Everything’s smooth.
Using one hand is enough.
No further pressure needs to be applied.
Stripe by stripe, fine and precise (what’s the name of that special rake in Zen gardens?).

A warm-up exercise for the things yet to come.
Ice crystals.
But slowly the light comes through.

How much I actually like my old, humble buddy (my car).
I’m so much looking forward to be on your side for yet another year.
And again: a post that feels unexpectedly meta.

Here we go!

3WPW+FC4 Fischlham

An endless supply of human activity. In the morning, the garbage men haul away trash in their big blue trucks. The street sweeper cleans up the sidewalk. A girl walks by with headphones, texting on her phone. An electric bicycle zooms past. The rising sun is still behind the buildings as the world wakes up.
At night, the crowds come in. Navymen huddle together in groups. Raucous young men stumble out of the bar. Someone drops a bottle of something, and the yelling ensues. The sound of car tires over cobblestone is endless as people vie for parking spots in this prime location. Motor bikes zip in and out of traffic. Groups of friends gather for a fun night out.
I’m in this place as a guest. Simply a visitor. I am the cat sitter. The temporary help. I watch the world go by lately with a feeling of sadness. The way things could be feels like a weight.
But really–isn’t it just this? The cars go by, the people cross the street, everyone coexists, life keeps happening from day to day. The troubles in my mind are only in my mind. My spiritual side tells me not to attach to those troubles, that I should just be fully present to all that endless supply of human activity. No feeling sorry for yourself or anyone else. Just be.
Well, sometimes that’s harder than it sounds. But as long as we keep coming back to this moment, I think we’ll be alright.

FMQM+QX Newport, Rhode Island

I couldn’t agree more with Timothy Snyder these days: it’s not only the grand gestures but also the small ones that hold a very unique importance at certain times.

The actual origin of my blog post this week, again, traces back to a conversation between Sarah and me that happened a while ago. During that exchange, the hilarious idea came up that I might dedicate a blogpost to all the amazing Special Characters of the German alphabet one day, as they might seem pretty exotic and strange to people from English-speaking countries. Naturally, I was captivated by this so obvious yet somehow undiscovered idea instantly – the only practical question that remained was when and how to bring it to life. Of course, a lot could work – from a photo of a German Duden (the most common German dictionary, by the way) to a snapshot of a German QWERTZ keyboard (with all those charming extra keys for Ö, Ü, Ä, and – let’s not forget – the sharp S, ß). But then things took, again, a whole different turn and I stumbled upon a new approach, one that could potentially allow me to address that topic from a fresh angle and even refine it further. Could is the word I want to put an emphasis on because in this world nothing is ever entirely certain.

It all came together here at Zö’s snack stand, not far from my workplace, where all these special letters unite in the best possible way – through human interaction, conversation, and, of course, the menu. As a matter of fact, the German and Turkish languages share some of these Special Characters completely independently of each other. Whereas in German the Üs, Äs, and Ös are called Umlaute in Turkish they are known as Trema. Therefore I love how all of this comes together on the menu there: you’ll find dishes like the classic Döner Kebap (the well-known kebab in a bun), the cleverly named Dürüm “with a migration background” (a kebab wrapped in flatbread, featuring three sauces from three different nations), Käse-Sticks (cheese sticks), or even Austrian-style Hühnerschnitzel (chicken schnitzel). It’s all there. Combined, in a most delicious fashion.

For the sake of thoroughness it would certainly be fitting to include a phonetic representation of these special characters (which would undoubtedly be entertaining) as well but that might be content for another future blog post.

My warmest thanks this week go sincerely to the two souls who run Zö’s stand: “Mr. Muscle” Furkan and his boss! Only through their openness and cooperation did that “could” become something concrete. For me, it was a grand gesture, especially at a very particular time. This past week – with the U.S. election and all – was quite an intense one for me. Sharing tea with the guys at Zö’s, chatting about good food and life, and laughing together about how menu items can also have politically-charged names was exactly what I needed right now! What a beautiful afternoon! Once again: Thank you, Furkan & Chef! It was truly a joy and honor for me to be with you guys – or might I say –  Special Characters! See you soon again!

2XWP+JC Eberstalzell