– that's where the real thing begins. Not in the clear symbol, but in the distance, in the silence, in the cracks in the bark. This is where memory and history are stored, where myths and breaks condense. The reliefs are like nature's lettering: notches, traces, signs. But their meaning arises in the space between – in that space where the invisible reveals itself. THE PHEASANT’S DREAM OF BEING AN EAGLE 1990 mixed media, manually kinetic 110 x 65 cm A dream such as *The Pheasant’s Dream of Being an Eagle* (1990) opens up a field of symbolic meanings that extends far beyond mere animal metaphor. In European cultural history, the pheasant typically represents ornamentation, game for the hunt, earthbound nature, and decorative splendor. It is a creature that can fly, yet never attains the majestic heights and vast horizons of an eagle. The eagle, by contrast, has been regarded since antiquity as a symbol of power, transcendence, freedom, and political sovereignty—from the Roman legionary eagle to the state emblems of modern nations. The dream of transforming from a pheasant into an eagle thus articulates a longing for elevation, for transcending one’s own limitations. It points to the tension between being and yearning, reality and ideal. Realized mechanically—through the manual, kinetic extension of the wings—the dream remains simultaneously fractured: the wing movement is technically produced rather than organic, and the transformation remains confined to the symbolic realm. The work can thus be read as a reflection on the human desire for ascent, power, and freedom, but also as a commentary on the illusions and limits inherent in such dreams. At its core, the "pheasant" remains a pheasant, even when it bears "eagle wings." JUST BEFORE... 1988, mixed media, 120 x 100 cm In this assemblage, metaphors of nature, found objects, and symbolic signs converge. The background—composed of snakeskin and a fire hose topped with a head—forms the body of a snake poised to strike. It is—as the title suggests—"just about" to devour the frog perched on a wild garlic stalk. This constellation is highly symbolic: the frog, an ancient emblem of transformation, liminality, and ambivalence, is here cast in lead—fixed in place and stripped of its vitality, yet still under threat. The snake, by contrast, represents the ominous, signifying both death and renewal; it embodies cosmic regeneration (shedding skin, the cycle of life) as well as imminent danger. The three small images resembling reliquaries along the upper edge—depicting a plant, a blossom, and a human figure—appear as iconic stages of life overshadowed by the looming scene. The result is a tableau that freezes a moment of peak tension: an image of the immediate "before," the split second preceding an irreversible event. *Just Before...* thus becomes an allegory for existential states of transition—that singular moment where life, death, and transformation intertwine. BLUE FISH 1988 mixed media 120 x 90 cm The relief depicts an underwater scene. At its center lies a large fish—gleaming and heavy—crafted using a polished lacquer technique. It appears almost like a foreign object—more a symbol than an animal. Surrounding it are numerous small fish, seashells, and traces of the seabed. It feels as though everything has been frozen in a single moment—half-alive, yet half-turned to stone. The intense blue evokes depth and darkness, hinting at what lies hidden beneath the surface. The large fish contrasts with the smaller ones: it is powerful, unusual, and perhaps even menacing. The result is an image capturing the mystery of the sea—a play between life and stasis, between the ordinary and the extraordinary. FOX IN TRAFFIC 1988 mixed media 110 x 90 cm In this work, we encounter the animal not in its natural habitat but as a victim of civilization: positioned on the left side of the image, the fox stands as a silent testament to the countless animals that lose their lives in traffic. The surrounding environment—composed of metal parts, industrial scraps, and fragments of headlights and wheels—evokes the mechanics of the road: wheels, headlights, signals. Amidst these fragments emerges a chaotic web of organic and technical traces, making the contrast between nature and machine visible. The yellow-brown base structure calls to mind asphalt and oil stains, while the incorporated objects appear almost like relics—remnants of a collision preserved within the material. Thus, the work becomes a monument to the violence of everyday life: it is not the grand hunt, but the heedless speed of cars that becomes a deadly trap. "Fox in Traffic" symbolizes the clash of two worlds—nature and technology—in which the living creature often comes off worst. SMALL WATER STRIDER 1989 mixed media 65x45 cm This relief depicts a creature of the imagination. Technical fragments—a pipe, a wheel, a seashell—come together to form a hybrid entity, a mythical being poised between nature and machine. The title "Water Strider" offers only an initial association: a light creature touching the water's surface. Yet here, it transforms into a symbol of balance and transition—between elements, between reality and imagination. The earthy ochre tones above and the deep blue below create a stage of land and water, surface and depth. The creature does not stride; it hovers and feels its way forward, as if emerging from an inner dreamscape. Thus, the "Small Water Strider" becomes a poetic cipher for the imaginary: neither animal nor machine, but a figure of possibility. LANDSCAPE 1989 mixed media 65x45 cm Stems rise up like signs of a secret botany. Filled with fruits—peanuts, seeds, reservoirs of life. At the base, test tubes glow as if the earth itself had yielded up its essences, gathered in glass. Arched above is the sun or the moon—a cosmic eye watching over the scene. Thus emerges an image of nature that is at once grown and constructed—dreamscape, experimental setup, myth. MECHANICAL FOSSIL 1989 mixed media, manual-kinetic 65x45 cm The work combines found objects and everyday items into a form that resembles a fossil. Elements of a tool (a drill) are integrated into the composition in such a way that they simultaneously appear like bones or limbs. The red earth of the background reinforces the impression of archaeology and an excavation site. "Fossil" alludes to the past, while the mechanical function—activated by manual kinetic movement—points to technology and the present. The work explores the connection between natural history and the history of technology: the mechanical element is treated like an organic remnant, as if it were part of a future archaeology of human artifacts. AUTUMNAL TRIALOGUE 1990/91 mixed media 200 x 210 cm The work features three preserved magpies in a relief-like composition. Their arrangement in the upper section of the piece suggests communication or interaction—the "trialogue." Below, a structure formed by numerous jaw fragments (lower jaws of small animals) creates an ornamental, repetitive pattern resembling a carpet of fallen leaves. This establishes a connection to autumn: the cycle of transience, decay, and transformation. The magpie serves as a symbol of the collector, of the realm between life and death, and also of cunning. Combined with the bones, the work forms an allegory of the natural cycle: the food chain, mortality, and interspecies communication. LISTENING FOR SILENCE 1990/91 mixed media 120x200 cm In this work, airplane reliefs combine with a rhythmically arranged frieze of openings. Housed within these openings are “ultra-high-heated pig’s ears”—a disturbing, almost macabre material that places organic fragments within a technical-military context. The airplanes allude to aerial bombardment and air warfare, while the pig’s ears point to the absence of human voices: an act of “listening” for signs of survival that, in a grotesque twist, leads only into the void. The composition thus becomes an allegory for the aftermath of violence—for the silence that follows destruction. SMALL CONTINENTAL DRIFT 1990 mixed media 150x120 cm The work *Small Continental Drift* (1990) combines walking sticks and exotic insects—arranged on island-like segments—with a map of Berlin. The walking sticks appear not only as topographical markers but also as symbols of traversing great distances. They allude to migration, mobility, and the experience of moving through political and cultural spaces. The insects and the segments, with their geological appearance, mark the intrusion of the foreign into the urban fabric. In doing so, the work reflects geological, political, and social shifts that became particularly acute in Berlin’s urban landscape around 1990. INTERRUPTED CONCERT 1988 mixed media 120x90cm The work "Interrupted Concert" (1988) arranges technical objects and musical instruments in a composition charged with tension. Gears, tools, and instrument parts appear like components of a silent orchestra. A key motif is the trombone, the extension of which terminates in a bird's nest containing eggs. The concert is interrupted in both the literal and figurative sense: a dove has settled on the trombone and is brooding its eggs. Silence replaces sound; the rhythm of the living replaces mechanical-technical order. The work thus addresses the rift between culture and nature, yet also their unexpected intertwining: music falling silent enables life to continue. EVOLUTIONARY ACHIEVEMENT 1991 mixed media 200 x 120 cm The relief *Evolutionary Achievement* (1991), measuring 200 × 120 cm, unfolds as an emblem of human existence. A pelvis with an ascending spine transforms into the curved shape of a scythe—simultaneously the axis of life and an instrument of death. Plants sprout from the ribs, while frogs—amphibious primordial creatures and mythical symbols of fertility—point to the space between origin and renewal. The visual language evokes *vanitas* and the *Danse Macabre*: as has been the case since the Middle Ages, the scythe introduces the motif of mowing, finitude, and cyclical becoming. Yet here, the symbolism is not merely depicted but materially embodied; bones, organic structures, and objects themselves serve as the bearers of the message. Thus, the work portrays the human being not as the victor of evolution, but as a fragile interface between nature and culture: their "achievement" remains inextricably linked to transience. ON THE FREEDOM TO SHOOT A SPARROW 1990 mixed media 110x65 cm The work *On the Freedom to Shoot a Sparrow* (1990) combines personal memory with cultural-critical reflection. Its starting point is a childhood experience: killing a sparrow with an air rifle—an experience initially driven by curiosity and a sense of power, yet one that immediately transformed into guilt and remorse. The work is defined by this tension between power and powerlessness, violence and compassion. Formally, this is illustrated by the combination of the weapon, the magazine, and the sparrow encased in glass. The title offers a dual interpretation: on one hand, it refers to the individual experience of childhood cruelty; on the other, it alludes to the idiom "shooting sparrows with cannons," signifying disproportionate violence and senseless excess. Thus, the work can be understood as a critique of the abuse of power and the violent dynamics that shape the relationship between humans and animals, as well as between humans themselves. The sparrow preserved in glass becomes a symbol of the fragility of life, which all too easily falls victim to the calculations of technology, weaponry, and domination. MELODRAMA 1991 mixed media 80x140 cm Musical notation formed from fish and tools: Fish appear as fragile signs of nature along the lines of a stylized musical staff, interspersed with soldering irons. Here, music transforms into a score of interventions—a field of tension between organic life and technical manipulation. ZUM FRESSEN GERN (Good Enough to Eat) 1990 mixed media 160x80 cm The work depicts forks made of bone, arranged in a fan-like pattern pointing toward a red center—a heart or organ, a symbol of life itself. The clear composition, set against a deep blue background with a luminous red, creates a powerful tension: desire and destruction lie close together. The title, *Zum Fressen gern* (an idiom meaning "to love someone so much you could eat them up"), plays on the ambiguity between affection and aggression—love tipping into devouring, or greed taking possession of the living. The work thus reflects the ambivalent relationship humans have with their food and with nature: care and destruction in a single act. FORSCHERS WALD 1 (Researcher’s Forest 1) 1991/92 mixed media 150x80 cm The work combines vertical structures with scientific instruments and tools. Measuring rods, glass, writing implements, and technical elements rise upwards like tree trunks, while a bright circular form evokes the sun or the moon. This creates a “forest” of research in which nature and technology merge: a place of collecting, measuring, and observing, but also an image representing the attempt to fathom nature while simultaneously translating it into cultural systems of order. FORSCHERS WALD 2 (Researcher’s Forest 2) 1991/92 mixed media 150x80 cm In this work, the vertical structures (pine cones) appear like stylized trees, yet simultaneously resemble composite laboratory objects or technical apparatuses. Colored segments, linked by net-like structures, recall plant stems that—in their artificiality—are also artifacts of research. Silvery tree silhouettes in the background contrast with the intensely colored forms in the foreground, creating a tension between the image of nature and scientific construction. *Forschers Wald II* thus continues the exploration of the interplay between nature and culture: the forest as a real-world habitat and, at the same time, as a laboratory for an inquiring, creative imagination. BAUKASTEN (Construction Kit) 2001 mixed media 32 x 24 cm Edition: 25 copies This work takes the form of a small, almost didactic diorama. Embedded in the relief are natural, technical, and symbolic elements: a snail, a thermometer, a scale, a fragment of a drawn architectural plan, and a photograph of the artist himself. The title *Baukasten* (Construction Kit) alludes to the principle of combinatorics—a system is formed from individual, clearly identifiable modules that is simultaneously scientific, artistic, and autobiographical. The inclusion of his own portrait turns the work into a personal commentary: the artist positions himself as part of the system of measuring, organizing, and experimenting—and makes it clear that every "scientific" image of the world is also shaped by a subjective perspective. STRANGE TOOLS IN DIALOGUE (1990) Mixed media, 2.00 x 1.20 m. The relief *Strange Tools in Dialogue* (1990) was created against the backdrop of technological upheavals—shifts that have intensified further today in the age of artificial intelligence. Even then, the work articulated the question of machine autonomy: Does the machine still need the human at all, or is it beginning to operate within a discourse space of its own? The relief-mounted objects—technical instruments, alienated and transformed into a spectral gathering—appear like actors in a conspiratorial council. Their arrangement evokes an assembly of "speaking tools" listening to an imaginary orator. This staging grants the objects the status of subjects: they are no longer passive means but emerge as bearers of a mysterious, potentially menacing agency. Here, the tools are presented not merely as functional objects but as allegories of the alienation between humanity and technology. Through their rigorous alignment and visual anthropomorphization, they point to rituals of collective decision-making that exclude the human subject. The relief thus marks an aesthetic and philosophical shift: the machine no longer appears as a subservient tool but as an autonomous actor within the realm of "technopolitics." From this perspective, the work can also be read as anticipating contemporary discourses: the talk of the "self-empowerment" of artificial systems, the loss of human control, and the fear of a secret, uncontrollable dialogue between machines. *Strange Tools in Dialogue* thus functions as an artistic conceptualization of a posthuman future in which the relationship between humanity and technology must be fundamentally renegotiated. Siblings | 2010 | mixed media | height approx. 1.50 m each | This two-part work depicts the figures of a girl and a boy, both reduced to their upper bodies and embedded in a green, textured relief. The girl holds a needle and the boy a thread—together, they suggest the potential for an act of connection. Circular pictorial medallions are set into the composition around the figures, appearing like fragments of memory or family history. Traces on the surface allude to paths taken and the temporal nature of relationships. The work explores the sibling bond as a symbolic connection: closeness and difference, individuality and mutual complementarity. The thread and needle serve as a metaphor for the possibility of healing rifts, forging connections, and continually "stitching" together what is shared. "Wunderbare Ansichten der Ivone Claes II" (Wonderful Views of Ivone Claes II) 2005, mixed media, 140 x 120 x 10 cm. The work "Wunderbare Ansichten der Ivone Claes I + II" (2005) takes as its starting point watercolor portraits by an unknown artist, discovered at a Belgian flea market. The sheets were photographed and incorporated as reproductions into relief structures, framed in red and gold, and complemented by small objects. This creates a tension between appropriation and appreciation. In the spirit of appropriation art, authorship is renegotiated—yet the work simultaneously remains a tribute: the images of the forgotten painter are not left in the archive of chance but are elevated into a new, visible context. The work renders her present as an artist, even though her biography has been lost. "Wunderbare Ansichten der Ivone Claes II" (Wonderful Views of Ivone Claes II) 2005, mixed media, 140 x 120 x 10 cm. The work "Wunderbare Ansichten der Ivone Claes I + II" (2005) takes as its starting point watercolor portraits by an unknown artist, discovered at a Belgian flea market. The sheets were photographed and incorporated as reproductions into relief structures, framed in red and gold, and complemented by small objects. This creates a tension between appropriation and appreciation. In the spirit of appropriation art, authorship is renegotiated—yet the work simultaneously remains a tribute: the images of the forgotten painter are not left in the archive of chance but are elevated into a new, visible context. The work renders her present as an artist, even though her biography has been lost.