A personal introduction to the streets, the countryside, and mindful observation—to images that emerge from the intersection of everyday life, travel, and memory.
From Holding On to Photography
I bought my first “real” camera almost six years ago—in early 2020, at the beginning of the coronavirus pandemic. Looking back, it's not easy to say why I wanted one so badly at the time.
Ever since our first child was born, I’ve photographed almost everything related to my family. First with a digital point-and-shoot camera, later with a video camera, and eventually just with my smartphone. Back then, I didn’t have the ambition to tell stories through pictures or to consciously document anything. Above all, I wanted to capture memories—for myself, for my family. To preserve moments before they fade and the memories grow dim. Emotionally meaningful snapshots from our lives.
To this day, this old photo album is like a movie of my life. It’s full of beautiful moments—and a few others as well. Things that are just part of life. Back then, I took a lot of candid photos—and I still do today—with my smartphone. As the saying goes: The best camera is the one you have with you.
There wasn’t a single moment that triggered the decision to get an interchangeable-lens camera. But there is one photo that has stayed with me to this day. Shortly after the birth of our first daughter, a friend came to visit us. He was already an avid photographer back then and had brought his SLR camera with him. He took a photo of our daughter in her crib—no flash, warm light, unhurried, technically flawless. It was simply good. Really good. I can still picture it today.
This photo certainly wasn't the only reason my interest in photography has grown over the years. But it did spark something.
In early 2020, I started looking more closely into cameras: Which one is right for me? Which one fits my budget? Is this just a passing phase—as is so often the case when you get “briefly” hooked on a topic? This time was different. Partly because my wife encouraged me. And then we found ourselves in a camera shop in Cologne, got some more advice — and I bought the camera.
At the time, I didn't know what role photography would come to play in my life.
I don’t make a living from photography. I take photos out of passion, not as a profession. My main job is as a manager at a management consulting firm. And when you work full-time and don’t just put down your pen at five o’clock, photography rarely becomes part of your daily routine during the week. On top of that, there’s family, obligations—and sometimes just plain exhaustion. It’s often a battle against my inner sloth. But it’s not a hopeless one.
Less analysis, more observation
In my professional life, a lot revolves around concepts, structures, and complex processes. For me, photography is the opposite of that: slowing down, observing, discovering. Less analysis—more perception.
With a camera in my hand, my rhythm changes. I pause. I look more closely. I’m more present in the moment. Taking photos pulls me out of autopilot—and sometimes that’s the real reward. It’s not just about the picture. Of course, I’m happy when I get beautiful photos. But for me, it’s all about the process. That’s what allows me to switch off by focusing on something else.
What appeals to me visually
I enjoy photographing landscapes and street scenes—and I love the process: finding a scene, waiting, deciding, and taking the shot. I prefer to use the images straight out of the camera—SOOC, “straight out of camera.” Post-processing is part of the process, but for me, it’s more of a means to an end than an end in itself.
I am particularly fascinated by places where time and change remain visible: city outskirts, harbors, and transitions between activity and stillness. I am interested not only in the “perfect” shot, but in what a place conveys: traces, atmosphere, and signs of change. Situations in which the mood speaks louder than the surface.
I love large-scale structures just as much as I love details. And I love landscapes—especially those in the north. Then there are the people and moments captured in street photography: fleeting, authentic, sometimes unspectacular—and powerful precisely because of that.
Why I'm starting this blog
This blog is my personal space where I share my thoughts and experiences as an amateur photographer. I want to write about travel—for example, my road trips through Norway—as well as projects like “Structures in Transition” and the routines and decisions that shape my journey as a photographer.
It also serves as a complement to my portfolio page, where the focus is on the images. Here, the emphasis is on what lies in between—on places, decisions, doubts, and small lessons learned. Technique and perfection shouldn’t dominate; rather, the focus is on mindful observation, pausing to reflect, and discovering meaning in the seemingly ordinary.
If you, too, are captivated by places, change, and quiet observation, you might just find yourself right at home here.