I explore how bodies move through and shape space, with a focus on urban and postindustrial landscapes. My work draws on the choreographic potential of everyday routines.
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Dancing blind, taking the wrong train, picking up photographs
A month ago I boarded a train — Düsseldorf to Munich to Verona. Somewhere after Verona I went in the wrong direction. By the time I noticed, the hills had grown larger and a sign read Lago di Garda. No connection, no hotel, no plan. I spent the night in a village that didn't need a name, and stepped off at Santa Lucia station on an early Wednesday morning, the first day of opening week at the Biennale di Venezia.
My first time. During opening week.
Diary entry, 06.05.2026
Venice Biennale
Hey dearest Reader,
What I didn't know: Venice during opening week is not an exhibition visit. It is a bodily state. I walked twenty kilometres a day, lost my orientation constantly, and found my rhythm in exactly that. Structured plans collapsed. Instead there was a conversation in the queue for the next party, a friendship on the train home — exhausted and glad.
Once I sat on a bench in the Giardini, completely spent, a cappuccino in hand. A small person sat down beside me and began feeding pigeons. It was Luisa Rabbia — an extraordinary painter who migrated from Italy to New York and was now, quietly, visiting her homeland with me. These moments belong to the vernissage just as much as anything on the walls.
I used to feel excluded in the art world — where perhaps there were only moods. Those feelings dissolved in a thousand alleyways where everyone loses their bearings and reunion moments wait around every corner: Dakar and Düsseldorf, Brussels and Berlin, London.
My absolute highlights: the Belgian Pavilion, Cameroon, Taiwan, Ukraine, and The Ear is the Eye of the Soul — a sound work tucked behind Santa Lucia station.
Day 3, I ask a Venetian to take a quick photo of me — I know they don't like tourists, but he had just come from a football match and was in a good mood, so he took the picture.
Get lost in streets you already know by heart.
Turn in circles — slowly first, then faster. Don't think about finding your way home.
Decide in your mind where north is and where south is. Let your shadow choose the next destination.
Found on 16 June 2026, Hildebrandstraße Düsseldorf
The Found Photographs — looking for a new home
Someone threw these photographs away. I picked them up.
Black and white. I'm almost certain the photographer is a woman from the East — Leipzig, maybe. I love her horizon shots. They remind me deeply of my own ocean work, sea chest.
So here is an invitation:
If you try the movement score above and want to tell me about it — film it, photograph it, write it down — I will make a collage from these found photographs for the three most beautiful responses and send it to you, signed.
Lost & Found
Lost & Found, on 16 June 2026, Hildebrandstraße Düsseldorf
Many artists and collectives draw on a surprisingly wide range of bureaucratic and administrative skills — working alongside institutions and authorities, becoming marketing experts, doing fundraising, developing spaces, shaping urban planning.
Over the past years I've used exactly these skills to open doors for street dance communities. KARTELL was born during Covid, when we had no training spaces left. I quietly unlocked exhibition rooms and studios for the communities — no announcement, no budget. This May we celebrated the second edition of the KARTELL Battle at Ebertplatz in Cologne, with guests from Brussels and Paris.
In hip-hop culture, hosting is not a logistical role. It is a practice. The Queen of Hosting, Peaches, showed me what it means: you open time and space in a place that hasn't yet invited anyone. You need a microphone, a DJ, cheerleading skills, and the ability to translate a culture for outsiders without betraying it. You hold the past and the future in the same breath.
I want to carry this role with honour.
KARTELL is not a standalone artwork. It is a commitment — one without which the artist in me could not survive.
The next KARTELL edition is coming this September. What role do you carry in your community — or which one would you like to carry? Feel free to write back here. Your answers mean the world to me, so I'll reply to every email.
Ludmi, credit: Sebastian Wulff
KARTELL
Hosting @Kartell Battle, credit: Sebastian Wulff
Dance here and now!
Hey Reader,
I rarely turn toward a subject this close: tenderness.
For two days we took the time to listen to inner voices, sheltered from the outside gaze. It is hard to let go of perfect form and risk an experiment in basic trust. And yet — safety is not a place we have to find. It is a feeling we can create within ourselves.
Sometimes we danced blind. Moving through the room without sight, we oriented ourselves through each other — through breath, through proximity, through the faint pull of another body nearby.
"I notice a change in my interior. I am looking beyond the edges and breaking down walls I never would have broken alone." — Sonja
The next workshop takes place the weekend of 12 September. A new theme. More soon.
Tenderness workshop, credit: Moïse Fall
Exited!
I have received the inaugural grant from Kunststiftung NRW to research Exercises of Unarming through the end of the year. This includes developing a large porcelain work with the museum foundation KERAMION and — finally — making a film essay with my favourite film studio, STIFTER. It is a deep moment of breathing out. I will keep you close as it unfolds.
I explore how bodies move through and shape space, with a focus on urban and postindustrial landscapes. My work draws on the choreographic potential of everyday routines.
Spring Issue 21.April.2026 mirror selfie at Hospitalfield in an 200 years old mirror Dances of Intrusion – when time stands still and bodies begin to shift it. Hey dearest Reader, Spring has arrived in the north of the UK and I’ve just returned from the studios at Hospitalfield. In March, I spent two weeks in an old castle on the Scottish coast as part of an interdisciplinary residency. Time there stretched quietly, allowing me to reconsider my studio routines and tune into my upcoming...
