A place where every story is being listened to. A place where every sentence, every chapter and every break in your story and mine is received with attention.
Installation with shapes made from book pages and ear shapes made from concrete and polymer clay. Work in progress.
shape of a story. book pages, concrete, plant parts, wire.
shapes of stories, a returning theme.
limits and barriers define the shape. without them, no story can be told, nor is there a movement towards more freedom.
to see a story like this, as a shape, already is freedom.
shape of a story. inverted photography.
shape of a story. altered book, beads.
shape of a story. altered book.
texture. crocheted text, wool. c. 140 x40 cm.
dialogue. crocheted story and story about evolution. Ines Seidel..
outside, inside. self portrait with crocheted text.
throne. digital photography with chair and crocheted story.
Stories in a river, a lake or on ice. Floating, washed ashore or tied to the land. An exploration with diaries.
foam on diaries. digital photography.
Selected Works, with foam. photography.
empty lines. photography.
Rewriting stories with empty lines.
Empty Lines. book altered with wall paint, ink and wax.
Empty Lines. photography.
at the edge of the story. concrete, book pages, wire.
outermost edge of the story. concrete, book pages, wire.
at the edge of the story. concrete, book pages, wire.
no title. photography with foam on story.
no title. photography with foam on story.
white foam.
My story and yours
still separate, frozen
are starting to melt:
Letters flow away,
sentences gather in puddles…
Our story, one slow current,
trickles into new patterns,
seeps into the ground or evaporates
save for a bit of dust,
and falls down as rain, somewhere.
For the series of photographs “story, written on ice” I wrote on a bloc of ice with Indian ink. I chose two different fragments of German text, one from a family saga by John von Düffel, whose writing usually has to do with water. The other line is from a poem which is better known as the song “The miller’s joy is wandering”. Here are the translations:
Impossible to say, how often I thought of these rivers, how often I dreamt of them, how many nights I was drawn to them, when I was passing through sleeping towns, dry, riverless towns, on the search for water, on the search for the movement of water,(…). My translation from: John von Düffel “Vom Wasser” (On water).
The water teaches us to move, the water. From: Wilhelm Müller “Wandering”
How to explan the impact. Concrete,wire, polymer clay and other material. ca. 20 cm in diameter, 28 cm tall.
(Actually this is only about the first few seconds of the impact. Of a book, a story, a word, a gesture.)