i shouldn’t lest i did.
windy days, enormous nights.
bodies shaking, breaking tides.
sweat dripping, never stop.
down the drain and out again.
back from hell, lost weight.
there, out of shotgun shells babies were made.
then stopped believing lies told by dazzled eyes.
caught up with what from now on i should call ‘my life’.
Can’t sleep.
Sleep is like the hand that keeps him from breathing.
Breathing in, in soft hums somewhere lonely in the distance.
Distance makes him feel numb.
Numb like a hand that’s limp-wristed.
Limp-wristed like ghosts who lost theirs in former lives.
Lives dispensed of loneliness and rest.
Rest that he seeks so desperately.
Desperately as the birds sing when the sun rises.
Rises to crush his longings.
Longings he’s damned to have.
Have sleep is what he can’t.

Aquarell auf Karton 100 x 70

Acryl auf Karton 100 x 70

Schwer beeindruckt von den abstrakten Arbeiten von Fotopionier Eckart Schuster ging ich sofort nach Hause und goß ein viertel Rotwein in meinen Scanner. Nach mehreren Versuchen kam ich zu obigem Ergebnis. Nicht so gut wie das Original - aber immerhin :-)

Das Bild wurde aus vier verschiedenen Vektor-Rastern erzeugt und anschließend im Photoshop mit “Hartes Licht” schichtenweise überlagert.

Just found, sorry I had to post this one ….

“HJK I”

“HH I”
Two long-time exposure pictures from the “Nachtschuss” series, taken in a moonlit night from my balcony.