For 25 years he has been taking pictures based on the concept of a continuous study of the sphere of life and perception. From his photographic work that has a rather serial nature he has hitherto presented the cycles Gommelbergkrater, Unterwasserblätter (Underwater Leaves), Zwischen Jahren und Zeiten (Between Times and Years),
Et Exspecto, Von Bäumen (On Trees), Vom Wasser (On Water).

His WATER-cycle has been appreciated in more than 20 international exhibitions 
since 2006.



Jeff Beer


I am standing at a river, the water is a lead-gray slate. Then the transformation, the metamorphosis. The water is getting clear and bright and emerges as a complex spectacle with its own tension which I call the grammar of water. A physical astrolabe: flow, wind, light, temperature, reflection of the clouds, of the trees, branches, leaves with their veins, everything is knit together, being mutually dependent. Just as if every part knew about the other.

However, it is not only the flow, the reflections, the trees, the wind. It is the least of that. Just as if codes of something completely different would hide behind their apparent names. When taking a closer look, it becomes obvious that in the literally tidy palpable world of things there emerges something untidy, something that is not at all simple, something that denies itself.

Advancing the anonymity of things with my camera, that is what I am actually interested in. The pulsating density and depth of things, as if they were alive. In their presence that is separated from outer time. To stir something that we know at heart. Life sentiment. Or something definite without a name. The picture changes and becomes a spiritual metabolism. Seemingly, in the simplest matters and situations there happen to be astonishing events that revolutionize my perception and my vision. That is the reason why I topographically limit myself to my immediate sphere of life and perception. To feel these processes much more intensively. I have never been a photographic tourist. In fact, I am convinced that I can achieve something essential in the course of time – either with a fistful of grass, a slice of bread, a table, a few metres of streaming water or whatsoever.

I remain and remain. I always photograph the same things. Again and again I get the impression as if I had seen the same things never ever before.

Sometimes I feel as if the things knew more about my life than I know about the things.

That is what photography means to me as well. Finally, it is probably the question about

the comprehension of vision that has been photographed many times.


 Gumpen – March 2006