Julian Köpke

A picture I like turns my gaze inwards and I stop staring at it. It is not possible for me to give the reason why I avert my gaze. For it is no longer my eyes that look.

Is it a spell ? Has a string of my existence been made to vibrate ? Is it a vortex that draws me into its depths ?

The simple shot of a farm in the Black Forest can take on the attractiveness of a shot from the early days of photography by processing the lighting conditions. Immediately, the antennas on the roofs of the farm look like evidence of a long past, although they can be no more than 50 years old.

The first day of the new year ended at the little church of Maria Lindenberg with a warm sunshine that almost protectively enveloped the promenaders. The gaze inwards is lost in the apparent aimlessness of the walking movement.

The forest area, which takes its name from the effect its conifers have on the viewer, has not always been a Black Forest. The visitor becomes smaller to tiny when the fog makes the forest even more impenetrable.

The farm was named after an Ignaz, locally always with the associated diminutive Nazi, but this designation has since been banned from the signs as unacceptable.

What happens to green leaves when I turn them into black and white? Again and again I photographed ferns. During a hike in the Black Forest I photographed groups of different leaves with different shades of green and brightness.

The result was clear to me beforehand. I had found such an idea in the images of Ansel Adams.

Less subtle is the following motif with a wooden bench for tired hikers. In this image the fern, the bench and the stone marker are the brightest objects.

Different hues of green lead to different levels of brightness in the black and white cosmos. Our destination for the day was Lake Buhlbach, which unfortunately could no longer be circumnavigated on foot in the newly opened national park.