Meaning is never predetermined. What comes first is structure, or rather, what the mountains give. Nature creates. Discovery follows. From what is offered, a composition takes shape, and from that, interpretation emerges. For the viewer, and inevitably for myself.
The work is not built around narratives. What the mountains will offer cannot be known in advance. Sometimes a scene is shaped by blue skies and sunlight, sometimes lost in snowstorms and whiteout. Decisions are made in the moment, as the landscape unfolds. Lines and surfaces, light and shadow, and the relationships between them come into focus. Meaning, if it appears, follows later.
The process begins with what is given, reduced to the essentials. A subject shaped by light. Light does more than create atmosphere; it reveals order, or its absence. In black-and-white photography, the reduction of color removes suggestion. Color explains quickly; monochrome slowly. It invites the viewer to linger, to look more carefully, to interpret without prejudice.
Creating works without knowing the story to be told may seem absurd. Yet this is exactly how my work comes into being. Surrendering to nature leaves no choice over what unfolds before the lens. The high mountains cannot be controlled; they can only be read with precision and respect. And in doing so, it is always the light that decides what remains legible and what disappears.
The mountain does not adapt to the image.
The image adapts to the mountain.
Structure comes first. Meaning follows.
And yet, meaning is always present. Every climb, every expedition leaves its trace, shaped by unpredictable, wondrous, and sometimes harsh experiences. After each journey, moments of reflection are needed, in the quiet of the studio, reviewing the gathered material. These moments, and the memories they carry, shape my interpretation and give the works their context, rooted in what has been lived, observed, and felt.
