I have been drifting toward a mindset of expectation.

Away from letting things come to me.

Tangled up in my habits of purposefully disconnecting, the sought-after and intentionally created emptiness takes up the space of true emptiness.

Am I becoming a slave to my own system?

I am on my way to Haus am Waldsee. A different direction than usual. I won’t take the S1 up north-east, but down south-west. Not only is the geographical direction different. I don’t know what the current exhibitions at Haus am Waldsee are about. I only saw a photo of the Haus from the outside when I looked up how to get there before I left. Not my aesthetic, intuitively.
It is 10:38 and I am walking slowly toward Rathaus Steglitz. I don’t know the S-Bahn schedule toward Wannsee by heart. The early spring sun almost feels like early-morning summer sun. Almost too warm for what I am wearing. The train arrives while I ascend the stairs to the platform.
I get off at Mexikoplatz. Pigeons, making the sound that pigeons make. A man and a woman sit on a bench, talking to each other in Spanish; the woman is clipping her nails. An old man sits on the last stair at the station exit, crutches and a guitar next to him, playing a harmonica.

When I film at night, I simply follow the light. What happens if I do the same during the day? Or, if I reverse it and follow the shadow?

I leave the station behind me and walk along Argentinische Allee. Most people on the sidewalks are older than 60, maybe even 65 or 70. A few years ago, I always wanted to be and stay young. It has changed. I am now looking forward to being old. I check the time on my phone: 10:54. Given how long I have been walking, Haus am Waldsee must be no more than 200 or 300 meters away. I may arrive before it opens. I slow down, walk even slower than I already did. A brimstone butterfly, bright as the hi-vis jackets of the construction workers on the side of the road, flies past my face. I stop, turn around, and watch it disappear into the hedge next to the sidewalk. Another one follows just half a minute later, and as I walk 20 meters further, a third one. And another one, just as I arrive at the gate of Haus am Waldsee. I check the time again: 11:00.

Capture a dynamic moment in its permanence. A sign promoting space. Empty becomes representation. Where is moving through the world self-evident?

11:11.

I open the door, slightly surprised, and take off my sunglasses. Emptiness, but not really. Silence, but not really. Darkness, but not really.
Thin shimmering bronze-colored threads hang from the ceiling in an otherwise empty, dark room. Clicking and humming from slide projectors in the surrounding rooms. Flashing lights from rhythmically progressing slides. Abstract colors, abstract images. One room is different. Small tiles on the floor in a checked pattern. An office lamp hovering about 20 cm above.
Labyrinth. Dream. Horror movie. Backrooms. Being here feels like walking in a Zwischenebene between life and death. If the subconscious were a space, this is what it may be like.

I stop behind the projector at the end of the last room. One black folding chair on the left, one on the right. I sit down on the one on the left. The clicking symphony of the projector right next to me and of those behind me makes sure that my mind doesn’t wander. The longer I sit and look at the images on the wall in front of me, they slowly turn into a unified background noise. Focused on the images, I let my mind wander. I let my mind wonder — wonder what these images show.

Click. Plain blue slide [reminds me of a projector startup screen]. Click. Nothing. Click. Irregular geometric shapes in black, gray, white. Click. The same shapes, just closer. Click. The same shapes, even closer. Click. Nothing but red. Click. The shapes from before, even closer. Click. Same shapes, further away. I briefly feel as if I were doing an eyesight test. Click. A slide in portrait instead of landscape. The same shapes, but teal and dark blue instead of black, gray, white. Click. Back to landscape. Same shapes, black, gray, white again. I can’t tell what these shapes could be. Click. A green rectangle, portrait. Click. Back to the previous shapes, cut off on one side.

A sequence rotating.

Focused, organized.

Arrangements, transitions, consistency change,

find new alignments, lose stability

without being consciously perceived.

Remaining steady establishes a rhythm,

concentrated slowed mode unfolds space.

Not originally intended

stretching, layering

integrated.

The temporal order produces focus,

transforms interest into atmospheric space.

Shift in attention, distance, conditions.

The exterior is integrated, used,

perceived anew.

I walk back to the Mexikoplatz S-Bahn station and feel as if I just woke up from a dream. Or like coming back from another dimension. The sun, shining in my face, pulls me back into this world harshly and gently at the same time. I stop.

A small tree to my right, behind a light grey fence with aluminum bars, the paint covered by pollen, dust, and maybe pollution from the road, grabs my attention. About 1.5 m high, with a small trunk and long spider-leg-like branches, looking like a tree that is supposed to be ten times bigger. The bark is covered in yellow and gray lichens. A ladybug sits still on one of the branches, bathing in the sun. After a while, it starts to move.

I start to move again as well. The sun has gotten warmer than it was on my way here. A slight cold breeze makes it pleasant though, and unzipping my fleece would be too much effort.

I have been drifting toward a mindset of expectation.

Away from letting things come to me.

Tangled up in my habits of purposefully disconnecting, the sought-after and intentionally created emptiness takes up the space of true emptiness.

Am I becoming a slave to my own system?

I am on my way to Haus am Waldsee. A different direction than usual. I won’t take the S1 up north-east, but down south-west. Not only is the geographical direction different. I don’t know what the current exhibitions at Haus am Waldsee are about. I only saw a photo of the Haus from the outside when I looked up how to get there before I left. Not my aesthetic, intuitively.
It is 10:38 and I am walking slowly toward Rathaus Steglitz. I don’t know the S-Bahn schedule toward Wannsee by heart. The early spring sun almost feels like early-morning summer sun. Almost too warm for what I am wearing. The train arrives while I ascend the stairs to the platform.
I get off at Mexikoplatz. Pigeons, making the sound that pigeons make. A man and a woman sit on a bench, talking to each other in Spanish; the woman is clipping her nails. An old man sits on the last stair at the station exit, crutches and a guitar next to him, playing a harmonica.

When I film at night, I simply follow the light. What happens if I do the same during the day? Or, if I reverse it and follow the shadow?

I leave the station behind me and walk along Argentinische Allee. Most people on the sidewalks are older than 60, maybe even 65 or 70. A few years ago, I always wanted to be and stay young. It has changed. I am now looking forward to being old. I check the time on my phone: 10:54. Given how long I have been walking, Haus am Waldsee must be no more than 200 or 300 meters away. I may arrive before it opens. I slow down, walk even slower than I already did. A brimstone butterfly, bright as the hi-vis jackets of the construction workers on the side of the road, flies past my face. I stop, turn around, and watch it disappear into the hedge next to the sidewalk. Another one follows just half a minute later, and as I walk 20 meters further, a third one. And another one, just as I arrive at the gate of Haus am Waldsee. I check the time again: 11:00.

Capture a dynamic moment in its permanence. A sign promoting space. Empty becomes representation. Where is moving through the world self-evident?

11:11.

I open the door, slightly surprised, and take off my sunglasses. Emptiness, but not really. Silence, but not really. Darkness, but not really.
Thin shimmering bronze-colored threads hang from the ceiling in an otherwise empty, dark room. Clicking and humming from slide projectors in the surrounding rooms. Flashing lights from rhythmically progressing slides. Abstract colors, abstract images. One room is different. Small tiles on the floor in a checked pattern. An office lamp hovering about 20 cm above.
Labyrinth. Dream. Horror movie. Backrooms. Being here feels like walking in a Zwischenebene between life and death. If the subconscious were a space, this is what it may be like.

I stop behind the projector at the end of the last room. One black folding chair on the left, one on the right. I sit down on the one on the left. The clicking symphony of the projector right next to me and of those behind me makes sure that my mind doesn’t wander. The longer I sit and look at the images on the wall in front of me, they slowly turn into a unified background noise. Focused on the images, I let my mind wander. I let my mind wonder — wonder what these images show.

Click. Plain blue slide [reminds me of a projector startup screen]. Click. Nothing. Click. Irregular geometric shapes in black, gray, white. Click. The same shapes, just closer. Click. The same shapes, even closer. Click. Nothing but red. Click. The shapes from before, even closer. Click. Same shapes, further away. I briefly feel as if I were doing an eyesight test. Click. A slide in portrait instead of landscape. The same shapes, but teal and dark blue instead of black, gray, white. Click. Back to landscape. Same shapes, black, gray, white again. I can’t tell what these shapes could be. Click. A green rectangle, portrait. Click. Back to the previous shapes, cut off on one side.

A sequence rotating.

Focused, organized.

Arrangements, transitions, consistency change,

find new alignments, lose stability

without being consciously perceived.

Remaining steady establishes a rhythm,

concentrated slowed mode unfolds space.

Not originally intended

stretching, layering

integrated.

The temporal order produces focus,

transforms interest into atmospheric space.

Shift in attention, distance, conditions.

The exterior is integrated, used,

perceived anew.

I walk back to the Mexikoplatz S-Bahn station and feel as if I just woke up from a dream. Or like coming back from another dimension. The sun, shining in my face, pulls me back into this world harshly and gently at the same time. I stop.

A small tree to my right, behind a light grey fence with aluminum bars, the paint covered by pollen, dust, and maybe pollution from the road, grabs my attention. About 1.5 m high, with a small trunk and long spider-leg-like branches, looking like a tree that is supposed to be ten times bigger. The bark is covered in yellow and gray lichens. A ladybug sits still on one of the branches, bathing in the sun. After a while, it starts to move.

I start to move again as well. The sun has gotten warmer than it was on my way here. A slight cold breeze makes it pleasant though, and unzipping my fleece would be too much effort.