Photographing is accumulating. But a series does not exist in volume — it exists in decision. I have spent years photographing memory, absence, and the fractures of the present. What I have learned is this: the work does not happen in front of the subject. It happens afterwards, alone, in the repeated confrontation with one's own images.

I make photographs that don't give themselves up at a glance. Series that take ten years. Images that ask you to stop — genuinely. In a world that accelerates, this has become a position. Here is why I hold it, and how to read what I do.

In recent months, as I returned to my archives and revisited certain series I once considered finished, an obvious realization emerged: my work does not lend itself to closed, self-contained entities.

You might think Todtnauberg is just a photo series. An aesthetic proposition among others. That would be a mistake. Todtnauberg grows out of a deep unease: what History has left behind in our landscapes, our families, our habits of seeing.