To be curious is to be alive
I was born in southern Germany, surrounded by mountains and forests. For as long as I can remember, I’ve been creating. Spending my early childhood years roaming outside, I painted, sketched, and shaped art from the world around me - sticks, leaves, shells and stones - long before I ever thought of it as art. Creativity was instinctual, a way of making sense of the world.
But life, as it often does, took me on a detour. My late childhood, teenage and early adult years were marked by trauma, time spent in hospitals and therapy, by loss that reshaped my very understanding of existence. When I lost someone I loved to suicide, the weight of their absence felt unbearable. I struggled to see the purpose of continuing in a world where they no longer exist.
Yet, in the depths of grief, I found an unrelenting curiosity - a need to understand what it means to exist at all. I searched for answers in philosophy, in spirituality, in quiet moments of reflection. And in time, I came to a realisation that changed everything: existence is not confined to the physical, it is neither singular nor absolute - it is defined by each of us in our own way. The people we love do not simply vanish. They remain in our memories, in the love we carry for them, in the ways they have shaped the world around them. No one is ever truly gone.
That realization became my turning point. Instead of continuing to stand still, I actively chose to move forward - not just for myself, but for them too. I began to see life as an unfolding story, filled with possibilities and things still waiting to be discovered. I found myself drawn to questions I had never considered before - how things work, why they exist, what they could become. Curiosity became my guide, leading me to seek, to learn, to create. And in that process, I came to understand that the life I had was a privilege - one I could no longer take for granted. If I was still here after everything that had happened, I had to make it count.
It all started with a borrowed camera. A friend lent me their old Canon DSLR, and the moment I looked through the viewfinder, something shifted. Photography became a way to engage with the world again, to see it with fresh eyes. I found beauty in details I had previously overlooked, in light and shadow, in the texture of a surface, in the ordinary and mundane. From there, the creative spark grew. I reconnected with painting, with writing, with crafting. When everything else in my life felt uncertain, creativity became my anchor - a way to keep moving, growing, transforming.
Over time, I refined my skills, learning through trial and error. Eventually, I bought my first camera and continued experimenting with different forms of photography - portraits, landscapes, abstract compositions - each offering a different approach of interpreting the world. My art expanded and evolved with me. And now, here I am.
This space is a reflection of that journey. My own testament to the power of curiosity, to the resilience of creation, and to the belief that even in loss, there is light. Through my art and my words, I hope to share that with you.