Novel of a golden generation

I have the best seat in the house.
A first-person narrator in his mid-forties, a box seat above the end of the world and a look back at the eighties, nineties and noughties. At the generation in between: analogue enough to still be personal, technical enough to already be comfortable.
Told through music and built like an album. Chapters are tracks, with commercial breaks in between, and after the epilogue a hidden track is waiting. Right now the whole thing is getting its second pass: more scenes, more dialogue, less summary.
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There's a story behind every picture, and most of the time it's funnier than the picture. In the journal I tell them: about shoots, encounters and things that go wrong. Soon also short stories that have nothing to do with photography.

How a makeup artist named Angelika Oswald walked into my work life through someone else's booking — and stayed. A note about coincidence, skin texture, and capsized boats.
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A collection of single images from completely different shoots — Vienna, Gran Canaria, early and more recent years. Seven snapshots, seven stories, seven frames.

Fifteen years, half a camera universe, and one small Fuji I always come back to. Why the X100 series is, for me, the best camera release of the past two decades.

Backstage with the Berlin Philharmonic — Bruckner's 8th Symphony, a new Schagerl prototype, and the invisible choreography behind a great evening.

From the castle back to the studio — a soloist in the hard spot. How the shoot came together between the light circle, the white wall, and beige sneaking back in at the end.

How the shoot with the ARD prizewinner at the historic castle came together — between the riding school, the chandelier, and the golden hour in the castle park.

A body of work spanning years with the most easy-going model I have ever worked with — and a makeup artist named Geli who carried all of it with the necessary humour.
New short stories are in the works. Quiet, funny, sometimes both.
To the journal →