"It seems to me that the natural world is the greatest source of excitement; the greatest source of visual beauty; the greatest source of intellectual interest. It is the greatest source of so much in life that makes life worth living."
- Sir David Attenborough 

About
 

What stays perpetually of nature, what remains eternal? This is the main question underlying my practice. Attempting to answer this, I apply drawing, collage, print, embroidery and textile work; to maybe even implore the eternalness of nature, hoping to keep its infinity intact. 

Do we carry, each and every one of us, a mental and/or tangible blueprint of the surroundings in which we grew up? What does such landscape mean to us? What is Heimat, to use this quintessential German expression? How has it shaped us and how do we feel connected? What happens when the agelessness of a ridge of hills in the distance turns out to be an illusion. 

I am interested in that which does not directly meet the eye, which has no economic value and has not been touched by a gardener´s hand, that which has not been alienated as landscape architecture. What I am looking for in nature are the seemingly useless segments of any given area, overgrown banks, rocks or cavities under tree stumps which are not subject to human value judgement. I am hoping that this is what will remain, these forgotten patches where life continues unnoticed and stealthily. 

Having grown up along the river Moselle, I am inevitably shaped by the monoculture of its sloping vineyards. Yet I am much rather at home in the adjacent, elemental, harsh countryside, the Volcano Eifel to the north of the Moselle. Here I have found a landscape that echoes an innermost longing. Yet, even here, one encounters man-made change through the mining of this landscape´s volcano formations. The many quarries, mostly hidden from the gaze of passers-by, reveal the layers of excavated mountain slopes laid bare. Once familiar local hills are not necessarily still part of one´s used and every-day vista. 

A similarly deep-seated connection with the (seemingly) austere Namibian landscape resulted in the creation of a series of mostly large-format textile works. Events, only measurable in geological time, resulted in extensive faulting and down-cutting through large-scale erosion of this landscape, processes thus that allowed me to get a sense of the Eternal. With these works I arrived at an interesting juncture, one that I want to explore over the next months or so: materials dyed, layered and superimposed, loosely hanging fragments, sketchy, hatched embroidery and the development of individual and specific hanging modes. 

My practice is firmly rooted in drawing; curve and surface area form the basis of what is aimed to be displayed. Over time I was able to develop kind of an alphabet of the (drawn) line, particularly in the constantly evolving shrubbery-series. In this process I realised, more and more, that the different materials do relate interactingly, a process of reciprocal enrichment. While stitching a piece of flat-lying fabric to some basis, a mental impulse would seed an idea for a lino cut; my style of sketching is mirrored in my embroidering, et c. My mostly large-format textile work is a combination of hand embroidery with appliqué. This makes for the highly haptic feel that cites collage and drawing technique. 

While I reflect on nature, landscape and their inherent eternalness in my  practice, I have to, logically, concern myself with sustainability and therefore recycling. Printing ink and cleaning materials are of particular concern, therefore. Not the least, paper is to be used with some respect for its materiality; it cannot be squandered aplenty. My textile pieces are made from recycled materials such as disused tablecloths, old shirts and tea towels, amongst others. The origin of these materials is secondary, and usually not discernible except when they contribute to the contents of the piece. 

(English translation by Dr. Wolfram Hartmann)