June update
Dear friends,
The past month has taken me to London, Italy, Singapore, Borneo, and Chicago. My travel plans changed unexpectedly after my father passed away, but I eventually made it to Borneo, where I began my new project, Paradise Lost, and returned home with many new works.
It has been incredibly difficult not to share more about the series, but it needs to remain a surprise—for now. It is something completely new and, once again, very different from anything I have done before.
Yesterday, while working in the darkroom, I found myself thinking about how the idea for this series evolved. It all began with an extraordinary opportunity to photograph the last two remaining Northern White Rhinos in Kenya. Naturally, I wanted to do it immediately. It felt important and deeply relevant. Yet, for reasons I couldn’t explain at the time, I never felt at peace with starting the project right away.
I kept thinking about it, and over the course of fourteen months, the pieces slowly began to fall into place. What started as one idea gradually transformed into something entirely different. A new project began to take shape in my mind.
It will probably become a series of only nine photographs. They will be among the most difficult images I have ever attempted to create. At the moment, I already have three pictures clearly in my mind, while the others are slowly revealing themselves as I work. It almost feels as if the ideas already exist somewhere—they simply need to be discovered.
Working on the series reminds me of standing in a darkroom. At first, everything is hidden in the darkness. But the longer you stay, the more you move, observe, and trust the process, the more details begin to appear. Slowly, the image reveals itself.
My next trip will take me to Kenya. I can share that much because photographing the white rhinos was the starting point of this journey. Beyond that, I have to remain silent. As difficult as it is, my curator friends and advisors are right—it really does need to be a surprise.
I hope all of you are doing well in these extraordinary and difficult times. We seem to be surrounded by one challenge after another: we feel the impact of climate change, the wars in Ukraine and the Middle East, political uncertainty, and economic instability. There are moments when I feel like disappearing into my darkroom—or moving to a lonely island.
What keeps me going is the act of creating. It gives me hope, purpose, and energy. Without it, I honestly don’t know how I would remain optimistic.
In times like these, I believe art becomes more relevant than ever. It reminds us of beauty, poetry, love, wonder, and everything that makes life worth living.
My greatest wish is that my photographs can make a small difference—that they encourage people to pause, to reflect, to feel, and perhaps to see the world with a little more wonder. If my work can spark curiosity, bring hope, or remind someone that even in difficult times there is still beauty worth protecting, then I feel it has fulfilled its purpose.
And purpose is what we are all longing for.
