I’m a self-taught figurative painter living in the rural village of Titz, Germany—somewhere between Aachen, Düsseldorf, and Cologne. By day, I work in science. But painting has become the place where I slow down, look more closely, and try to express the things that words don’t quite catch.

​

Drawing was a big part of my childhood, though I didn’t follow that path for a long time. I picked up acrylic paint for the first time when I was 23, filling four small canvases. Then I stopped again—until a single image, stuck in my mind for years, finally made it onto canvas. That led to more ideas. And while I didn’t act on them right away, I eventually started painting more consistently in 2019.

​

I began with acrylics, but oil paint had always intrigued me. I’d heard it was difficult and temperamental, so I held back—until 2021, when I finally tried it for a landscape. Since then, I’ve kept a steady rhythm: usually one or two small-format paintings a month. My focus has shifted a lot over time: from portraits to landscapes to what really fascinates me now—figures, gesture, and narrative.

​

I carry a sketchbook and pencil almost everywhere. Drawing has become a daily practice—both a way to sharpen my eye and a way to think. Most of my paintings begin with small sketches: a gesture, a posture, or a mood that feels charged. I tend to work alla prima, completing most pieces in a single sitting, which keeps things intuitive and direct. 

​

My work draws on classical figurative painting, contemporary realism, everyday life, and—at times—the raw lyrical energy of rock music. My subjects often exist in transition—caught between presence and absence, connection and solitude. Whether they’re seated in a smoky backstage room, standing in front of a crumbling shack, or frozen mid-gesture, I try to paint that in-between space where something has shifted, even if we’re not sure what.

​

Though I haven’t exhibited my work yet, I’m steadily building a body of paintings that feel honest to me—ones that live in tension, suggestion, and silence. Looking ahead, I want to keep exploring these quiet, emotionally ambiguous moments—those small gestures and atmospheres that hold more than they reveal.