I used to like to stroll around junk shops looking for private photos. It wasn't the voyeur in me that drove me, but rather the idea of observing a sinking ship. I myself sank into the visual worlds of random people while looking at the colourful photos in musty junk shops. Something disappears here, irrevocably: the physically tangible, colourful photo. At the same time, I was reading Roland Barthes' "The Bright Chamber" and followed his world of thought on the punctum of the image. Several series of painted photos emerged from these reflections and my romantic inclination and love for the old colour photo: Watercolours on primed, sanded and polished canvas of various sizes.
Writing about the punctum, Roland Barthes observes: "Whether it has clear contours or not, it is always an ingredient; it is that which I add to the photograph and yet that which is already there."
