In front of me my box is standing with all the posters and articles of you. I found it while cleaning up and now I’m wondering if possibly someone would want to have it yet. I don’t need it any more. But I looked it over once more. Somehow that’s symptomatic for my complete “relationship” to you. When I met my husband and got finished with you overnight, I kept all of you anyway. I couldn’t make it to throw away just one little piece of my collection. And now, after all these souvenirs have been hidden for more than ten years in the stack and garage, I dig them all out again and occupy myself with them - to get rid of them. Apparently I have to do this with all the memories in my head and in my heart, too.


Love is blind: My dad was just building an arch in the passage between wardrobe and corridor. For this reason he fixed in the first days a board in form of a half circle for support. My brother and sister could walk through it comfortably, but my parents and me had to duck our heads, for not to bang on it with the forehead. It happened to my mother several times, and because I always laughed about it, she kept a jealous watch over me. But I always remembered the board, always, except for that one day.
From my friend I was presented with a beautiful poster, where he showed a grin that seemed to me very insinuating and made me quite fidgety. In the physics lessons with “Rudi” I tried permanently to watch it, but there was only little room under the desk, so I could hardly open the binder where I concealed it in. So I had to be patient until I got home. But barely had I gone through the door and taken off my shoes I tore that poster out of my bag. I only had eyes for him - and banged against the board! Thankfully my mother didn’t see that.


When I’m looking at all the pictures of you I hardly can find some good ones among them - the same as with your songs. However, today I can afford to criticize pictures, because I am a photographer, but with your music it is more a matter of taste.

In the past I have much sought after each of your pictures, did adore you, how sweet you were looking, saw your eyes, your lips, your hands. Today I see the badly directed lighting, inadequate backgrounds, disadvantageous poses, I realize that the focus is too much in front or in the back, or that they are entirely out of focus. There are only a few pictures left to please me.
My favorite picture I bought on one of your concerts: A studio photo, taken from high above, you are standing and looking up to the right past the camera. You are wearing a black suit, under it a white shirt, your hands are forming a heart. From right above a light source illuminates only your face. The rest is largely disappearing in the shadow. Great – arranged very graphically, and of course black-and-white!
Compared to this picture, what you can buy on the internet at present – posters or your current calender – is really gruesome photographically seen. It reaches from boring up to very hokey, and nothing among them seems to be authentic to me.

I would like to see you in a different way. There is a series of photos in my mind showing you in your everyday life, allowing to look behind the facade, not “dress up and pretend”, but things like breakfast in the morning, a look from behind the newspaper, locking the door when you’re going to work, or when you are jogging, or... I don’t know what else you are doing when you’re not posing. First I’ve got to know you, before I can conceive real photo scenes.
Then I would stage this without looking contrived. Minimal lighting, but a high end image sensor. I would take the Hasselblad with the 39 megapixel back, telephoto for a shallow focus. Afterwards I would elaborate it in black-and-white, with a high contrast, large format prints. And among this there would have to be a classical portrait, too - without make-up. Yeah, that would be cool, if I could do something like that.


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