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Red Notebook >
Schachtel / Box
c-print, 82 × 102 cm, 2009
but what does one know, ever? I myself have never been really sure of anything, my friend.
Everything I have done has been a riddle to me my whole life long. Often I have tried to solve
this riddle,but I don't think I ever succeeded. You ask for my notebooks. I don't have them
anymore. Once I photographed them. Don't ask me why, other people photograph their children.
That's not a good comparison, you will say, and I will answer you, it's not a comparison at all.
It's nothing more than an evasion, a diversion, a pathetic attempt to explain myself, without
really wanting to or being able to. But let's let that be. I first photographed the notebooks
in color. But these images seemed too colorful, and I photographed them again in black and white.
That was nonsense, because later I couldn't decide which images I liked better. I hung them
on the wall again and again, and sometimes I preferred the one set, sometimes the other. I think,
in the end, I liked the color ones a little bit better. But I'm not completely sure. What do you
think? But I already hear your answer, which becomes a question: Why did you photograph the
notebooks at all? And I will tell you: I don't have the notebooks anymore. That's not an answer,
you will say, and of course you will be right. But it seems to me you are not completely right.
We will yet debate that. Bleak weather prevails here, which always puts me in an insecure mood.
This dependence on external things is