My work is figurative, usually about people and their emotions – or the lack of emotion. About how people communicate with each other – or struggle with the inability to communicate – in their relationship with those around them, with their partner, with their children.
Or about growing children: how they look for the light or how they turn away from it. Their uncertainty about the future is often symbolized by an undefined cube – a black box, who knows, a Pandora’s box, in which everything is s.ll hidden.
Or about the aliena.on people can find themselves in aBer major events. Like uprooted refugees or homeless people.
Most of my work is kind of autobiographical. Based on twists and turns in my own life, I investigate the crossroads in which life takes shape. Often unconsciously and unintentionally, small or big moments have an indelible impact on everyone’s further life.
For example, I painted a series of works based on super-8 films that my father made in the early 1960s. The carefree years of a middle-class family – on a trip or on vaca.on. It’s like everything started in those years. The war was now well digested, everything was quickly getting ‘better’. The cars sparkled, plastics and concrete were gifts from the gods; there was no limit to faster, higher and more. But there, too, the circles seem to be closing again. We are gradually learning that there are indeed limits to our world can endure. And that we should therefore try to return to the intersection where we started the route. To make a beUer and more sustainable choice than before.
