The starting point, when I fully merged with photography on a professional level, was my move from Freiburg to Berlin in 2008. Another significant turning point came in 2010, when I changed capitals again—this time to Paris.
The factors were both obvious (genetic predisposition, a large palm that makes it easier to hold a camera, and the circular lines on my fingertips as an indicator of abstract thinking) and less obvious (the unwillingness to continue studying economics, a tender pull toward beauty, toward the feminine), and some that I don’t even suspect yet but that reveal themselves in different forms with enviable consistency.
But overall, photography is the one thing that I’ve managed to do really well for a long time.
Last year, the idea to organize an exhibition came from a close friend of mine in Minsk. She took on the threads and levers of preparation and execution. All I had to do was come to Minsk, dance well at night, walk a lot during the day, and, smiling boldly, tell everyone about the upcoming mega-event not to be missed. And only on the day of the exhibition did I bring my works and help stick them on the walls. Everything turned out really well. For a first time, it was a phenomenal success.
This year I did everything myself. Again in May, again in Minsk, right on my birthday, May 24. It’s a wonderful time of year, one of my favorites—the end of a stormy spring and the beginning of a hot summer. Before the exhibition, I gave a lecture. But that’s already another story.
I was the initiator, the driving force, the sponsor, and the executor of the exhibition. The most important things in this business are faith, dedication, a team of helpers—and money. Except for money, I was incredibly lucky with everything. Unbelievably lucky. But in the end, the idea outweighed the money.
A huge number of people helped me, each in their own way, however they could. Without them, I wouldn’t have managed.
There were many funny moments. Too many to count, and they’re all tied to being there in person. The preparation process wasn’t torturous—we took all our successes and failures with a healthy sense of humor. We weren’t afraid of mistakes and made plenty of them.
For example, we spent a whole day gluing frames to the photographs. It was tedious—tedious beyond tedious. And the next day we realized the mounting had to be done completely differently. We had to rip everything off and redo it from scratch. By then, time and energy were already running low. During the exhibition, right at the start, a few works fell down. I didn’t notice right away, and it turned out many people thought it was part of the concept.
From the experience I can only say one thing: do things in a way that won’t make you ashamed in front of yourself for what you’ve done and shown. No matter what anyone says, you’re doing the exhibition first and foremost for yourself, and you must rely only on yourself. No one will do it for you, and later it will be you who is either ridiculed or at the peak of glory.
Plus, it’s a wonderful opportunity to revisit your previous work, to analyze it, highlight the best pieces, and see people’s live reactions to your images—not just “likes” on Facebook. That is priceless.
Stay as focused as possible, honest with yourself, disciplined, and never lose sight of your goal.