03 REQUIEM 2022

In my book REQUIEM I deal with the preservation of personal memory and the natural process of human aging and physical decay after death. During our lifetime we constantly seem to fight against this process, either through the use of cosmetic products or surgical interventions, conscious that we can no more than slow it down. Thus are the permanent dream of eternal youth, or the permanent fear of death constantly reminding us of past memories.

I visited an orchid museum in the Italian alps last summer. I entered a sector of the building, where I saw numerous types of beau- tiful butterfly orchids. The many plants were habitat to various butterflies and moth. I was overwhelmed of the beauty and range of colors of these insects. Additionally presented was a doll cabinet with a vast amount of cocoons in various shapes and sizes. I was about to leave the building, when the wings of two, almost decayed moth caught my attention in the green moss. Their color had almost completely faded away, they were infiltrated through holes it was like the moss was slowly swallowing these beautiful creatures, slowly but surely absorbing them. In that actual moment, in that space, I witnessing this whole wonderful cycle of life, something which repeats every day, right in front of my eyes. I thought to myself, maybe there is a human body lying under this moss and all butterflies in this space can live, because of it. Secretly I knew this was not the case, but the imagination of this scenario calmed me, made me smile.

REQUIEM opposes colored photographs with physically intensely edited photographs. Colorful and high resolution images visualize my still very recent and juvenile memories. In this very moment, chronologically close to the memory, the belief is strong, that they will last for ever. But as time passes, they suffer from a growing loss of detail, the color fading away, everything turns dull and grey. Added disorders, seem to blur my memory. Holes start to appear, holes like of insects and bacteria, which feed of the dead body, until it disappears. Being baptized, the church had always kept me from fearing insignificant decay, but I can’t remember how. The monochrome photographs in this book were took in an old farm house in Hessen. Until 70 years ago, it was inhabited by a strictly religious family. After the passing of the last family member, the space was abandoned, left to nature. Walking through the rooms, I repeatedly noticed crucifixes resting on the doorframes. Wooden madonna figures throned the bed side tables. Bibles and holy images were overly present. This scene was familiar to me, but taking a closer look, I noticedcobwebs, traces and bites of insects. The natural cycle of decay had begone regardless the sacred.