In the South of Germany, a few kilometers from the Rhine, there is a range of volcanic hills- not very big- in midst of a rather flat landscape. The hot rocks and fertile loamy soil allow good wine to grow.

From the very top of the mountain, you can see beyond the vineyards and the Rhine river plains up to the foot of Vosges Mountains; in the other direction up to the rising Black Forest.

I used to spend a lot of time at the top of that mountain, with friends, often on my own; reading and letting my eyes wander. In the evenings you could observe white lights on the plains, the sharp line of the straightened Rhine, and behind it the yellow lights of France. An enormous, two-colored surface.

There might be a time in life, in which one develops a sort of matrix; a pre-stage to something which will continue developing later on. In any case, I have always felt that these moments, these images and these states of being on the top of the mountain are what have made me an artist.

Today, when working in my studio, it feels just like being on top of that mountain; surrounded by nature, even though I’m in the middle of a city.

This state is hard to describe. It is a kind of atmospheric noise.

I feel the need to re-create this noise time after time, as a point of origin for everything else. It is like trying to reproduce the same one image again and again, an image you already know very well.

According to wikipedia, the word matrix has its origin in the French word matrice, which means casting mold. I trace along the outlines of that casting mold every day, and I do in fact feel that I’m getting closer.