Floating through every-day-life, through spaces both private and public. Looking for what might just become home, I am catching my gaze out of my window onto the passing shadows, at crashing waves in the middle of the night, at a lost vocabulary list, at initials scratched into rocks.

Too optimistic to leave encounters untouched, unturned, undocumented.

So between between dem Rheinland and het Rijnland, I carry my camera whereever I go, relying on Chance to tap me on the shoulder. And glimpses piece each other together, becoming essays of what was graspable.


The sky is grey, wrapped in a blanket of clouds.

As we step out the door, it is raining softly.

We match our pace to the pace of the river,

zoom into the bigger picture – to catch a glimpse at the water.

Because floating in this water, and I can’t seem to grasp it

– is what I recognize in the arms of het Rijnland,

from the embrace of the stream I know from dem Rheinland.

The landscape is vast, yet we live shoulder to shoulder.

And since its always been that way – space is made for change.

Still, we tell each other

that the water of our river will always keep flowing.

In remembering little conversations with Opa,

I rediscovered my optimism.

'Et es wie et es. Et kütt wie et kütt. Et hätt noch emmer joot jejange.'

– Et rheinisch Jrundjesetz

Rhenania is an essay, picturing the gaze of our companion – the Rhine.

What he remembers, what he can see, what he imagines.



Chances are. What is the mechanism of that box?

What is the ongoing position, what is already there, and what has to be looked for? Relying on random factors in producing, particularly as a methodology in photography, often has a negative connotation. Snapshots are left for the amateur to take. Yet if we gave value to what happens randomly, we might just find that Chance has the potential to reveal what is authentic. Looking closer, it comes down to simply identifying intuition when it appears – to gain access to the subconsciousness. The documentation of this gaze is how the thesis pieced itself together.

"I don’t mind

the drips, the drops,

the spills, and leaks, and stains,

the holes,

the rips,

the bumps, and bruises,

the scratches, and scars,

the shards, and pieces.

Mistakes are full of beauty."