Lauternsee #dipt_4152_4153

Pigment print, steel

Part of the work some lives on earth.

Lauternsee #dipt_4152_4153

Pigment print, steel

Part of the work some lives on earth.

#dipt_3309_3310

Pigment print, steel

Part of the work some lives on earth.

#dipt_3309_3310

Pigment print, steel

Part of the work some lives on earth.

Rattenfalle II

Sculpture

Bait station, PE film, steel cable

80x40x20

Rattenfalle II

Sculpture

Bait station, PE film, steel cable

80x40x20

Rattenfalle I

Sculpture

Bait station, PE film, woody shrub, soil

40x25x55

Rattenfalle I

Sculpture

Bait station, PE film, woody shrub, soil

40x25x55

Compilation

IMG_7797, IMG_7816, IMG_7814

C-Print mounted on acrylic glass

Each: 150 x 120 cm

Rogue Wave 

Sound work

16:42 minutes

IMG_6015 - 6019

C-Print mounted on acrylic glass

Each: 48 x 27 cm

IMG_6913

C-Print mounted on acrylic glass

60 x 60 cm

IMG_5177

C-Print mounted on acrylic glass

76 x 135 cm

IMG_5981

C-Print mounted on acrylic glass

68x85 cm

Compilation

IMG_7797, IMG_7816, IMG_7814

C-Print mounted on acrylic glass

Each: 150 x 120 cm

Rogue Wave 

Sound work

16:42 minutes

IMG_6015 - 6019

C-Print mounted on acrylic glass

Each: 48 x 27 cm

IMG_6913

C-Print mounted on acrylic glass

60 x 60 cm

IMG_5177

C-Print mounted on acrylic glass

76 x 135 cm

IMG_5981

C-Print mounted on acrylic glass

68x85 cm

Pilze

Pigment print, steel

Each: 130x104 cm

I go into the forest to search for and collect mushrooms. Then I dry the fruiting bodies. Layer by layer, I photograph the dried bodies to render portraits of them. Nothing remains of their former appearance; it gives way to another.

The archive currently comprises over 120 species.

Pilze

Pigment print, steel

Each: 130x104 cm

I go into the forest to search for and collect mushrooms. Then I dry the fruiting bodies. Layer by layer, I photograph the dried bodies to render portraits of them. Nothing remains of their former appearance; it gives way to another.

The archive currently comprises over 120 species.

Mainwasser

Sculptures

Clay, PE film, water from the Main River, phosphat, nitrat, algae, fungi, microorganisms

40x15x60

Portraits

Pigment print, steel

Various sizes

Mainwasser

Sculptures

Clay, PE film, water from the Main River, phosphat, nitrat, algae, fungi, microorganisms

40x15x60

Portraits

Pigment print, steel

Various sizes

FECHER 

Pigment print, steel

Various sizes

Awe might be the right word to describe the feeling I had for the activists in the Fechenheim Forest. The fact that I felt this way showed me how incapable I perceived myself to be, how little confidence I had in myself, and how much I would need to learn in order to transition into action. Are we really as independent as we sometimes believe? If so, why is so little being done in the face of the many problems our societies confront? Neoliberal ideology and the capitalist system keep us trapped in immaturity and a false sense of freedom. Yet only a few dare to step onto uncertain ground, to explore new paths, to experiment, and to take action.

That day, the mood was dark and somber; it was late December. The sun was low, and its last light filtered through the bare branches and trunks of the small Fechenheim Forest. The cold crept from my feet up my legs into my chest, and as usual, I was only for half a day in the forest to take photos. As dusk began, it was time for me to leave. At a small treehouse, barely a few meters above the ground, I took my last pictures of some trees. An older person from the forest strolled over and playfully joked with a young activist. But the jokes couldn’t mask the seriousness everyone felt. There was a smell of sweet alcohol and weed in the air, and the older person’s expression turned serious: "Why are they making such a fuss? Why are they building a fortress out of containers, what’s all this heavy equipment for? How many of us are there? Fewer than twenty people. Do we look dangerous, are we armed? What have we done to anyone? What’s the barbed wire for?" The person bent down, picked up a dirty, old, small liquor bottle from the ground, and held some decaying leaves in the other hand. It stuffed the leaves into the bottle and held it up, slightly swaying. "Is this what they’re afraid of? A Molotov cocktail of the forest?"

Dennis Haustein devotes his photographic project Fecher to observing a forest occupation that took place in a small forest area near Frankfurt am Main. The aim of the occupation was to prevent the planned construction of a motorway tunnel by Autobahn GmbH and to protect the species-rich habitat from being destroyed. In his work, for which Haustein accompanied the occupation in the Fechenheim Forest for over six months, he examines the intersection of various forces and actors, both human and non-human.

The forest activists in Haustein's work appear as a heterogeneous group originating from different economic strata, social backgrounds, and precarious living situations. These individuals, who fall through normative societal frameworks, develop practices of collaboration, care, and political action to protect present and future life. They create a structure in which responsibility for other life forms and the forest is assumed. In contrast, state efforts to expand the motorway largely disregard the interests of the people living there, displacing their habitat. 

The occupation ultimately ended with an eviction through a massive police operation.

FECHER 

Pigment print, steel

Various sizes

Awe might be the right word to describe the feeling I had for the activists in the Fechenheim Forest. The fact that I felt this way showed me how incapable I perceived myself to be, how little confidence I had in myself, and how much I would need to learn in order to transition into action. Are we really as independent as we sometimes believe? If so, why is so little being done in the face of the many problems our societies confront? Neoliberal ideology and the capitalist system keep us trapped in immaturity and a false sense of freedom. Yet only a few dare to step onto uncertain ground, to explore new paths, to experiment, and to take action.

That day, the mood was dark and somber; it was late December. The sun was low, and its last light filtered through the bare branches and trunks of the small Fechenheim Forest. The cold crept from my feet up my legs into my chest, and as usual, I was only for half a day in the forest to take photos. As dusk began, it was time for me to leave. At a small treehouse, barely a few meters above the ground, I took my last pictures of some trees. An older person from the forest strolled over and playfully joked with a young activist. But the jokes couldn’t mask the seriousness everyone felt. There was a smell of sweet alcohol and weed in the air, and the older person’s expression turned serious: "Why are they making such a fuss? Why are they building a fortress out of containers, what’s all this heavy equipment for? How many of us are there? Fewer than twenty people. Do we look dangerous, are we armed? What have we done to anyone? What’s the barbed wire for?" The person bent down, picked up a dirty, old, small liquor bottle from the ground, and held some decaying leaves in the other hand. It stuffed the leaves into the bottle and held it up, slightly swaying. "Is this what they’re afraid of? A Molotov cocktail of the forest?"

Dennis Haustein devotes his photographic project Fecher to observing a forest occupation that took place in a small forest area near Frankfurt am Main. The aim of the occupation was to prevent the planned construction of a motorway tunnel by Autobahn GmbH and to protect the species-rich habitat from being destroyed. In his work, for which Haustein accompanied the occupation in the Fechenheim Forest for over six months, he examines the intersection of various forces and actors, both human and non-human.

The forest activists in Haustein's work appear as a heterogeneous group originating from different economic strata, social backgrounds, and precarious living situations. These individuals, who fall through normative societal frameworks, develop practices of collaboration, care, and political action to protect present and future life. They create a structure in which responsibility for other life forms and the forest is assumed. In contrast, state efforts to expand the motorway largely disregard the interests of the people living there, displacing their habitat. 

The occupation ultimately ended with an eviction through a massive police operation.

some lives on earth  

Pigment print, steel

Various sizes

How does it feel to live?
Exhaust fumes and the smell of damp moss mingle.
I am old and sick.
I am young and sick.
We are mixed together, it stinks.
My skin sticks to yours, to yours all.
Can something protect me? I am afraid.
My stomach growls again.
Searching, searching, and crumbs found. Again I have to share with you, with all of you. You want a share. Okay, I give you some.
Ah, I am tired and broken, we are broken and alive. I and we hate each other, are enemies and fight. I and we love each other, are lovers and mate with each other.
Everything has become so toxic.
I cannot hold any of it.
Nothing preserved.
Just now it was so clear, forgotten in sharp little stones and damp drops, a small animal tickles me, and pain comes again, then passes.

What remains for me with you?

Who takes care of themselves and curls up with cramps and pain?

Born and dependent.

On you and us.

some lives on earth

Pigment print, steel

Various sizes

How does it feel to live?
Exhaust fumes and the smell of damp moss mingle.
I am old and sick.
I am young and sick.
We are mixed together, it stinks.
My skin sticks to yours, to yours all.
Can something protect me? I am afraid.
My stomach growls again.
Searching, searching, and crumbs found. Again I have to share with you, with all of you. You want a share. Okay, I give you some.
Ah, I am tired and broken, we are broken and alive. I and we hate each other, are enemies and fight. I and we love each other, are lovers and mate with each other.
Everything has become so toxic.
I cannot hold any of it.
Nothing preserved.
Just now it was so clear, forgotten in sharp little stones and damp drops, a small animal tickles me, and pain comes again, then passes.

What remains for me with you?

Who takes care of themselves and curls up with cramps and pain?

Born and dependent.

On you and us.