In today’s world, where fast-paced stimuli flood every moment, it is not always easy to remain aware of the value of time. Especially our own lifetime often only comes into focus when we’re confronted with loss, illness, or mortality. We pause briefly, feel a tightness in the chest, only to return soon after to treating our most precious resource with careless distraction. I know this pattern well from my own past. And to be honest, I still slip into it from time to time.
But over the past four years, I’ve come to see my lifetime from a different angle. And not, as one might expect, while standing high in the mountains. Rather, it was during the planning of new expeditions, and through the process of connecting them with long-term photographic projects. Because in those quiet hours of mapping out visions and dreams – often with euphoric anticipation – one realisation became crystal clear: I will not be able to realise all of my ideas in this one lifetime. And yet, that thought filled me with peace. Because it meant I had found something that truly mattered to me.
The awareness of how limited our time is becomes sharper the moment we fill it with something that is meaningful.
Reinhold Messner once said: “Life is meaningless, until we give it meaning.” And on that point, I agree.
Since then, I’ve looked at the world differently. At myself. And through the viewfinder of my camera. More than anything, I feel a deep sense of gratitude for the rare and beautiful chance to give value to the time I’ve been given.
This year, that includes the release of my first major art project, Edition Zero, in November. It also includes new attempts in high alpine terrain in Switzerland and Nepal.
And beyond that, I’m already working on a new project titled BYND66°.
But that is another story.
