Series
The serial works shown here represent a selection. All works are printed in various sizes and editions on fine art paper.
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Stagnation and movement I
„Is this even a series? For me, they're more like private studies or reflections on a subject for which photography is arguably the worst possible medium.
A movement in the water is frozen solid in the millisecond of the shutter release. Its dynamism becomes fixed lines, the fleeting immortalized, a rigid image. A one-and-no-other. A here-and-there! The price for this sharply defined moment, detached from movement and captured by the camera like a quiver, is the loss of movement itself. At best, its curves become compositional lines.
Only a long exposure would reveal, through the blur, how much movement still lingers in the pond's stillness. In the brief moment of the shutter release, nothing moves. A languid summer afternoon over a scalding pond and an unbearable calm. Onward! Patience."
Till Heene, Juli 2025
Traces
"When did I first think (or say) 'Black Forest' without referring to a black forest, but rather to this low mountain range in the southwesternmost corner of Germany? When did I first wonder why this forest is supposed to be black when it's actually fir green?
At the latest with the TV series 'The Black Forest Clinic,' it became clear to me that the Black Forest was no longer some dark place where a treasure hunter hides or where the globalized Dutchman temporarily turns someone like Peter Munk into a cynic. Black Foresters, according to my then-current perception, heavily influenced by Hermann Hesse's writings, ultimately know, like everyone who stayed behind, what's what. They know this right way of life in the right place. Because that's how things are done here, and not otherwise. Therefore, there's no point in moving away.
When I finally moved away years ago, I started referring to the Black Forest as my home to others for purely pragmatic reasons. It was a makeshift solution. Where I When I lived there, I was the stranger. The others were from there. What was I doing among them? So I called the Black Forest my home, to reassure the others.
"So you have a home too, a here," they said. "You're someone like us, only from somewhere else. Someday you'll return there, while we stay here. You'll be back there in your here, and we'll stay here in our here."
I'm not looking for a cozy home. I'm looking for traces that remind me of places where I must have been once, at some point."
Till Heene, Juli 2025
Skies
"I don't understand how anyone can prefer an aisle seat to a window seat on a plane. Weak bladder, comfort? But then you just have to annoy your seatmates. Maybe that's how you strike up a conversation. Claustrophobia?
The best antidote is surely the fleeting landscapes out there."
Till Heene, Juli 2025