About being on the move in photography

The world of photography is huge.

And although I have been moving around in it for years, I know that I will never travel it completely. It is too much, too far, too diverse - a universe of shapes, colors, moments and meanings.

I don't mean traveling with suitcases and plane tickets, but traveling in photography. Moving through the different forms of expression, genres and perspectives of photography. There is nature and landscape photography, architecture, street and fashion photography. Images of happiness, of fleeting moments. And those of suffering, of standstill, of things that remain.

Each of these fields feels like its own continent. Some are clearly demarcated from one another, with their own rules, styles and cultures. Others merge gently into one another. And within these continents there are countries, cities, places - photographic spaces that shape and attract people in different ways.

My home is in the land of portraits.

I am rooted here. This is where I know my way around. I know how a face changes when it starts to tell a story. I recognize subtle movements, moods, small truths. And little lies. Sometimes I travel from here into other areas: into the world of reportage or landscape. I go out to sea, let myself drift, see new things - only to return with the feeling that this is exactly where I belong.

Not because it's nicer here than anywhere else. But because I feel like I belong here. Because I understand the language here. The faces, the stories, the unsaid between two glances. Portrait photography is not a genre for me. It is my living space.

And yet I'm always drawn out again. Into the streets of other genres. To places where life is on the move. Then I take something with me - a kind of souvenir - one experience richer. As I write these lines, countless things are happening at the same time. Somewhere a person is jumping over a puddle. A child runs through a ray of sunshine. A woman looks out of a café window onto the street, lost in thought. And these are just three of the thousands of moments that happen - and then disappear again.

I know I can't see them all.

There are too many. Too fleeting. Too vivid. Some only last a fraction of a second - and then they're over. And yet there is this silent longing to be a part of it. Not to want to hold on to everything, but to look. To remain open.

Perhaps that is the real task of photography: not to capture the world in its entirety, but to remain attentive to what we cannot otherwise see. For what happens when others have looked away.

And maybe it's not even about taking pictures, but about learning to be mindful and anticipate.