Why I take photographs
Quite simply: I want to be rich and famous like Annie Leibovitz or Peter Lindbergh! – Of course not (or maybe just a tiny bit, deep down in my heart).
Photography has fascinated me for a long time. It all started in school in the black-and-white lab, and then continued in the Bundeswehr. There was a darkroom there that no one else used. I developed pictures from Flensburg, Kiel, and Eckernförde – back then, people only came into the lens at parties.
During and after my studies, I mainly photographed products for trade fairs and posters – I only took snapshots for personal use. Everything was analog, of course. Digital photography was too expensive and the quality was disappointing for a long time. My own brand: Minolta.
With the birth of our child, I got my first digital camera—a Canon Powershot 70. I took over 2,000 baby photos in the first year! After that, the number dwindled rapidly. When I found myself looking at the back of my analog camera more and more often, it became clear: it was time for a digital SLR.
In 2014, in a state of emotional turmoil, I spontaneously bought a Sony Alpha 77 Mk2 – very uncharacteristic of me. While on vacation, I discovered how much technology and image quality had advanced. The old Minolta zoom lenses could no longer keep up with the 24 MP sensor – only the 50mm 1.4 remained a dream. So, new lenses followed – and a new photography kick.
At first, I snapped everything that didn't run away. Then I spontaneously ended up at a portrait workshop – and was immediately hooked. Staged portraits, in the studio or on location, controlled light instead of random. Excuses like "bad light" no longer apply – now it's up to the photographer.
This is what excites me: setting the right light, working with people, and developing creative ideas together. No shoot is complete without preparation – concept, communication with the model, and shared image ideas. The longest project to date took over five months from the initial idea to the finished portfolio.
After the shoot, the selection process begins: I usually keep only one image per subject—similar versions are boring. Then it's time for editing: First in Lightroom—alignment, white balance, and exposure. Then in Photoshop—skin retouching, micro-dodge & burn (inspired by Pratik Naik), spot sharpening, and a color look with NIK filters.
At the end: a final check, a few days of rest, then printing or exposure. The model receives a portfolio with the best images—and, of course, digital copies.
Why I photograph nudes
Between light and shadow, form and feeling, a quiet fascination began for me – the discovery of the naked body as a canvas for expression, dignity and beauty.
My introduction to nude photography began at a workshop. At first, I was nervous—what would it be like to photograph a naked person? But with a professional trainer and a confident female model who handled the situation completely naturally, I quickly realized: nudity doesn't play a central role. What matters is the photographer's eye—the light, the pose, the expression. And all of that is detached from any erotic charge.
I'm fascinated by the diversity of the human body. Every person brings something unique to the table—and it's my job to make that visible. For me, beauty isn't standardized. There are no "ugly" bodies—only images that don't work. And if an image doesn't work, the responsibility lies with me, not the model.
I also photograph fashion and portraits, people with clothes, in everyday life or staged. But nude photography has a special appeal for me – not because of the nudity itself, but because it takes us beyond the ordinary. Clothing is our everyday costume, often fixed, often limiting. Who has a theatrical repertoire at their disposal? Creating an extraordinary image with clothing requires a lot of effort. A naked body, on the other hand, is unusual in itself – not ordinary, not self-evident. And that's precisely where the artistic "kick" lies for me: achieving a strong, extraordinary effect with few means.
Interestingly, I often find that many models actually feel freer when naked—almost liberated from roles, expectations, or fashion codes. Clothing can quickly seem boring, while the same pose without clothes suddenly takes on a certain presence. Perhaps this is because nudity is not commonplace—and therefore automatically carries more meaning.
My work is about presence, pride, and self-confidence. "Look, I'm naked—and I like it!" This attitude inspires me. I reject submissive depictions of bodies or disempowering perspectives. Condescending poses? Not my style. Helmut Newton is a role model for me—his women are strong, proud, and unmistakable.
Respect is the foundation of my work. I create a safe space: a fresh bathrobe, slippers, drinks, snacks—little things with a big impact. And the most important rule is: Don't touch the model. Trust is everything.
Of course, I encounter prejudice. As a white, male photographer over 50, I fit too well into the image many critics have of a bogeyman. It's easy to reach the "boob photographer" corner – but I work with high standards and have my partner double-check every series. No image leaves my studio without showing poise and dignity.
Because nude photography is not pornography. The difference lies in the care taken: in the composition, in the play of light, shadow, and blur. Pornography aims to reveal everything, leaving nothing open. Nude photography invites you to look – yet still leaves room for imagination.
My pictures are not about skin, but about attitude – about the courage to show oneself and the art of making the invisible visible.