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march in viktoriapark feels like a spring night. a nightingale sings, it’s empty, but full with anticipation. people find the space they need, waiting for the weather to shift, the water to flow. I know this place for a long time now and sometimes I don’t see what draws me there. is it the people? is it the same tree stump I find over and over? there’s a beauty here, in the landscape but also the people. how do I depict it? how dare I depict it?

i noticed it’s different to just loosely photograph a project without the intention to publish it. in the first months of this project, i held back from photographing people in the park. there are so many micro doubts before i do it. but then i see someone. i register something, a coat, a gesture, the way they stand. i’ve told myself beforehand: today you’ll ask. but there’s always this second where i almost walk past. then i don’t. i go up, say i’m working on something about this park, ask if i can make a portrait. they never quite know what’s happening. often it’s over before either of us can overthink it. i leave my card. that’s it.

Footprints frozen mid-step, going nowhere now. That statue has seen this before: the silence right before everything breaks open. I can't describe the landscape as anything other than bland, while a young boy sits in the freezing cold, making his first architectural drawings of Berlin's pretty much non-existent skyline. A mouse doesn't mind me, maybe out of desperation? The ice gets cracks, and just two weeks after taking these pictures I can't believe this is what I saw.

There’s not much to report except that I spent my birthday in Lanzarote. I brought my camera, but it felt like a challenge: How do you photograph a place where everything is either a postcard or lava?

What did fascinate me: The American Agave in all its variations. Not a single tree on the entire island, but these plants everywhere. Fun fact: The agave stores its seeds until that one moment when conditions are statistically optimal, then it spreads out with everything it has and dies.

Another thing I noticed: There’s no public advertising in Lanzarote.

Back in Berlin, there’s a public referendum to inhibit advertising displays in the city. One part of me wants to sign it immediately; I think our public spaces are over-cluttered with information. Another part of me wants to do work that’s shown on these advertising boards, to earn money to make personal projects that feel meaningful and purposeful.

Speaking of the advertising industry: I see more and more agencies posting AI projects and framing it like the only reason they do it is because they want to stay relevant/prove they can use AI.

But the more I see these AI-generated advertisements, I conclude that in the future, fully AI-generated work will communicate either “we have no budget”or “this is a scam” or “buy a product that doesn’t exist”. Will society really accept these uncanny images over something that feels real?

But then again, last year I spent a day in a psychiatric ward in Neukölln.

One Day in the Psychiatry

For ‘Psychologie Heute’ I spent a day following a peer support specialist on a psychiatric ward in Neukölln and had access to a world that usually lives behind closed doors.

A peer support specialist bridges the gap between patients and the staff in a psychiatric institution. To be qualified for this job, you have to have personal experience with being treated for mental issues. Martin was very open about the challenges he once faced in life and you could immediately feel, that he thrives in his profession and through the contact with his patients.

Working in a psychiatric was challenging: My presence was a welcome distraction in the monotony of the daily routine for the patients. But I also felt mistrust and couldn’t quite gauge the unpredictability of situations. I usually prefer direct interaction with the people I’m photographing, but here that either wasn’t possible or I’d get pulled into someone’s delusional world immediately. I only photographed what kept patients anonymous, so no portraits, no identifiable moments.

What stayed with me: Martin’s patience. During countless cigarette breaks with patients, even when they were deep in psychosis, he gently guided conversations back to the one important thing: their recovery. While other staff had a certain resignation about them, he seemed to float above it all. The system, the sterility of the place, it’s difficult to imagine how you’re supposed to get better here when you’re in crisis. But I could see how his timing, his presence, made a difference.

Three Things that inspired me recently

1. Book: ‘The New Space’ by Scott King

   

   Scott King writes about the plight of the cultural worker. How this worker’s whole identity and well-being is dependent on the accumulation of ‘space’: a currency which is safeguarded by institutions and clients. It’s a novel in the form of a manifesto.

2. Documentary: ‘The Work’ by Gethin Aldous & Jairus McLeary

   I’m not sure I’ve ever seen a documentary that touched me so deeply. It’s about a group therapy project in a high-security prison, that opens up once a year for non-inmates from outside the prison walls. The doc follows four men from the outside world, who take part in this four-day session. By doing so, the film paints a picture about masculinity in a way I’ve never seen before. Everyone should see this film in my opinion; unfortunately you’ll have to search a bit to find a working stream for this.

3. How Cesar Manrique shaped Lanzarote’s Landscape: it took one visionary artist and probably a lot of money and power to shape a whole Island. If you’re ever there, please visit the foundation, I found it fascinating how the lower part of the house is built into a lava bubble. Manrique is also responsible for the lack of advertising on the whole island.

When Berlin gets snow, Viktoriapark turns into a sledding paradise. A modern Bruegel painting coming to life from afar.

A list of objects people used as sleds:

• construction fence

• A skateboard

• Trash bags

• A folding chair glued to cardboard

• A jacket

• A drying rack

• Full HD-TV

It's not always easy going down. Or up.

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Photographs, Video and Text by Bastian Thiery

Music and Sound Design by Blu Aloé

For several years, I’ve been photographing Viktoriapark in Berlin. It’s an artificial mountain landscape in the middle of Kreuzberg, with a waterfall that gets turned on and off every day between May and October.

What keeps pulling me back is how this one small place becomes a cross-section of the entire city. You see meditating students next to families with shisha pipes, teenagers showing off next to elderly couples sitting quietly on benches. Everyone finds their spot. The park somehow holds all of it without feeling chaotic.

I’ve photographed here on and off for years, whenever I felt like it. But it never really went anywhere; it felt like just another half-finished project missing a structure. I couldn’t figure out what story I was actually looking to tell or how to give it a framework.

So I'm trying something different: I will start releasing this project on Substack as a series. One episode per month, January through December. Each month focuses on a different moment. Whether that's the DIY sledding chaos in January or the slow decline of nature in November.

There's something about this park that feels rare in Berlin (maybe in any city). It holds a kind of quiet optimism. People come here and they just exist. I think we could all use more of that in 2026: places that remind us things can be positive.

I'm continuing my regular newsletter on its irregular basis, so this will be an additional message you'll receive each month. Here are some images from the last few years to give you a sense of the place. The first proper episode comes in early February. I'd love for you to follow along.

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Four years ago, Ben from WESERHALLE noticed I kept photographing random dogs on the street. We turned it into a calendar: first with casting calls for the gallery’s regular four-legged visitors. Now, for the fourth edition, we went back to my roots: only dogs I randomly met outside.

I would love to invite you for the launch on Friday, November 28, between 6 and 9 pm at WESERHALLE. We’ll have the calendars there, some drinks, and probably a few of the dogs if we’re lucky. Or grab your copy at the Weserhalle Webshop. It makes for a good Christmas gift, I’ve heard.

PS: If you want to dive into my world of dogs, find them all on my SOOT-Archive

ASVOFF Screening I’m excited to share that a short film I made with Haley Louise Jones this summer will screen at the ASVOFF Festival in Paris on Saturday, 15th November, 2pm. The film explores the actors creative process and relationship with her own intuition. It’s showing in the ‘Mental Health in Fashion’ category, which I find meaningful. Not only dark themes deserve attention, but also quiet, introspective explorations.
Find more infos on the ASVOFF Website and if you can’t make it, you can watch the short film here:

Recent Editorial Work The past weeks brought diverse projects: A Mercedes Maybach SL680 feature for ZEIT Magazin Mann I photographed together with writer Luisa Thomé. We spent a full day with the car, starting by cleaning off Berlin’s rainy summer residue, which became the image itself.

I had several artist portraits commissioned: Petrit Halilaj for Monopol at his Hamburger Bahnhof exhibition, Danielle Braithwaite-Shirley for Wallpaper+, and Jeremy Scott at Friedrichsstadt Palast, where he created new costumes following in Jean Paul Gaultier’s footsteps.

This fashion shoot with Balbina for Sleek was really enjoyable. The German-Polish singer loves staging herself, which made the shoot a fun collaborative process.

And a personal full circle: I photographed a fox for Die ZEIT that roams around their new Berlin office. A theme that won’t let me go since I graduated seven years ago with a book about a limping fox.

Things that inspire me lately:

1. Gaga Dance: One hour of pure body and movement, no space for thoughts

2. Films taking a political stance: A House of Dynamite, Bugonia, One Battle After Another capture the absurdity of today’s political climate while entertaining

3. The ONE Thing: A book about productivity that challenges the myth of multitasking and focuses on what actually matters

I’m heading to Paris for ASVOFF and will also visit Paris Photo and Offprint. Looking forward to discovering new photobooks and connecting with people there. Hope to see some of you.

Best, Bastian

A few things since my last newsletter: Back in Berlin after some weeks in Paris in May. Started shooting the next 'Dogs of Weserhalle' Calendar in a new format and an ad campaign that feels so close to my personal work, it’s very exciting. Both projects will come out later this year. Left my agency Bird Productions after some great years together and went solo. Had a fun shoot with the famous Gstaad Guy in Greece. And I finally finished a film project I've been avoiding for two years, something I shot during a Vipassana Retreat in Thailand.

2. “Holding Thought”

I'm sharing something more personal than usual. Here’s the scene:

It's night, and I lay restless on my bed. Dark wood, thin plastic mattress, tiny pillow. It's hot, I hear animals screaming outside. Or are those my thoughts? What happens when the mindful state of daytime vanishes and the subconscious takes over?

Seven days at a Vipassana Retreat in Thailand sent my brain from all over the place to super sharp to anxious to calm. I went there out of curiosity, after discovering meditation during a time of overwhelming self-doubt. What became a quick fix for anxiety and OCD is now part of my life.

This is a filmic essay about my mind during the retreat. Without reading, phone or talking. Just an ever shifting mind and a hard bed. You build awareness like a house of cards during meditation practice. But it will crash inevitably.

Meditation taught me I'm not my thoughts. But experiencing the mind coming apart and setting itself back together is very different from knowing it.

The film is two minutes, without narration. See if it matches your experiences with mindfulness. I would love to hear if you can relate.

Share Visions, Repetitions

3. Five questions with Aysan Lamby

Aysan is a filmmaker and photographer living in Berlin. We share an office in Kreuzberg and since I got to know him I’m always very drawn to his work: it feels very sensitive. We sat down in his neighborhood to talk about film making. Check out Aysans work on Vimeo, Instagram or his Website.

You went from civil engineering to film direction. That's quite a career pivot. What triggered the change?

It was actually coincidence. A friend who had started rapping got a label deal, and I initially did art direction for his videos. After working on the first three videos, I realized I also wanted to try directing. It was a combination of this ever-present urge to work creatively, and external validation that I had pretty good taste. I never really thought about how to actually direct, it was very freestyle, learning more with each job.

You say your best ideas come at night when you can't sleep. How do you handle this creative process?

Yeah, that's actually true. I often have my best ideas when I'm trying to fall asleep and my mind keeps racing. I have tons of different notes on my phone that are super confusing. There's no set technique with music videos, it's primarily about how the music makes me feel: weightless or hectic. From that feeling, hopefully sooner rather than later, a concept emerges.

East Asian new wave cinema inspires you visually but also narratively. What fascinates you about this approach?

You can tell with people like Wong Kar-wai that a lot is improvised: even just the courage to let the actors walk through the streets without a motivation to it. It doesn't directly advance the story, but it totally enriches it. You don't have to go directly from A to B, you can also stay at A first to make A bigger. The work was very intuitive, and that translates into uniqueness.

Identity seems to be a recurring theme in your work. How do you approach this as a filmmaker?

I think it's more from an observational context. I observe something that's politically charged, but I don't impose any political charge from myself onto it. If it is what it is, then it is – everyone can interpret it how they want. Identity plays an important role because it's in everything, same as a political agenda. Every choice you make can be traced down to some sort of political agenda. The themes you choose to tackle, the talents you use. I would say this happens subconsciously for me. I don’t intentionally charge up my work. It's more this role of someone who observes, tries to understand and then - without thinking much about it - makes a decision.

You told me about your dream project that has a kind of chamber play approach. What is it about this way of telling a story that interests you?

I find this approach exciting, getting everything out of one location. In this microcosm, many different dynamics between characters can emerge. It's like in “Goodbye, Dragon-Inn” by Tsai Ming-liang: all the action just happens in this one run-down cinema, which is visually super interesting and tells incredibly many stories through its inhabitants, a melting pot in a way.

4. Three Inspirations

1. This Substack Post outlining how Social Media shortens our perception of time and by doing so steals it

   The Prism

   How Social Media Shortens Your Life

   I. THE NORMALISATION OF AMNESIA…

   Read more

   10 months ago · 1596 likes · 121 comments · Gurwinder

2. The Wembley Live Version of Fast Car by Tracy Chapman

3. The Forest for the Trees by Maren Ade. Her debut film before making Toni Erdmann. It’s a painful film to watch when you tend to feel ‘fremdscham’, but it’s worth it!

   Thanks for reading Visions, Repetitions ! This post is public so feel free to share it.

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Dear Subscriber,

I am currently in Paris, spending the month here. This time I wanted to try out something different to the last Newsletter, where I showed my process when creating a personal project. When looking through my archive, I realized how often I photograph men in my personal work. So this is an attempt to approach this pattern - not a statement, rather an investigation.

Current Thoughts: Photographing Men

Note: I write this from my subjective position as a cis-gendered male. I assume the gender identities of my subjects to my best knowledge. I don’t claim to represent the full spectrum of gender identities but see this as my personal perspective on an ongoing cultural conversation.

When editing my book Humpelfuchs, there was a brief moment where we considered including only images of old, seemingly lost men I photographed in Berlin-Neukölln at night. Since then I often asked myself what exactly drew me to these men in the first place?

Since I began taking photography seriously, I've been photographing men. While studying at the ICP in New York I met a German homeless man, that became my subject for a documentary. On one of our first assignements we had to photograph a stranger in their own home - I met a friendly older neighbor on my block in Bed-Stuy, who invited me to his home and I photographed him in front of his huge vinyl selection.

Masculinity is a subject that has attracted me sometimes consciously, but mostly unconsciously. I think a lot about masculinity in my private life, and I occasionally wonder how my focus on photographing men in everyday situations connects to this. When I look through my archive, what do I see?

I see images of men in patriarchal positions but I also see men not fitting into these traditional roles. I see numerous portraits of old men. I see few images of young men. I see men at society's margins, smoking, waiting. I see men performing masculinity, for me and for the camera, for themselves, for others.

This last aspect particularly intrigues me. What makes a man? How do we present ourselves in public, and how does the world perceive us? For many men, this is a question they rarely ask themselves.

Through this newsletter, I'll explore what draws me to these subjects, what I find in images that often contain both strength and humor, and how my position as a male photographer shapes these encounters.

Part 1: The Gesture of Vulnerability

This image is one I keep returning to, when thinking about the men I photographed. In the background stands one of the anonymous housing projects in Manhattan. In the foreground, two men are visible, one sitting, one standing, in a close embrace, one apparently soothing the other. They're surrounded by metal fences, metal benches, and trees in full green foliage. Are we witnessing two lovers who have just found their way back to each other, or two friends consoling one another? I remember exactly the moment I took this picture. The fear of disturbing the moment, and how unusual I found this public display of affection. Men touching other men in public, giving and allowing closeness. I was afraid to photograph this scene, as I didn’t want to draw too much attention to them, but also was afraid, of making them feel exposed, of invading this emotional moment in public.

Part 2: Acknowledging and Projecting

What does it mean to approach and photograph a stranger on the street? The photographer sees a face, a character, a style, something that stands out within the scenery. The photographed person finds themselves in a complicated situation. Unlike the photographer, they are unprepared, often alone, typically distracted from their everyday life and thoughts by being photographed.

I am often asked how I photograph people on the street and how people react. I take this as a compliment, because many of my images appear candid, but are mostly re-enacted. I've made it a habit to tell the people I want to photograph exactly why I want to photograph them specifically.

Yet I don't always know exactly what it is, because it's usually a mixture of different factors that draws me to the person. With most of these encounters, while working on Humpelfuchs, I felt that I had given them a kind of recognition through photographing them. Some men receive so few compliments in their lives that they remember a compliment decades later. The interest of a stranger may have felt like a compliment to some and perhaps like an intrusion to others.

In a way, the people I photograph act as a mirror - but not always. I see some part of myself in their life and photography can be my way of dealing with this part inside me. Of course, their seeming loneliness is a projection, but it also raises the question where does Life lead towards, as a man?

Part 3: Performing Masculinity

Is masculinity changing? Yes, in my opinion, for both better and worse. On one hand, I see male friends with kids performing so much care work as never before done by any previous generation (of course this should be the norm, but it hasn’t in the previous generations). On the other hand, there are figures from the manosphere like Elon Musk and Andrew Tate, who target young men with their crude theories about sex, gender, and feminism, striking precisely at the vulnerable spots in young men's souls. Men perform being men. It's exactly this performance that interests me. But what does it look like? A series I keep returning to was an assignment given to me by FAZ Quarterly in 2019. I spent a month in New York and was tasked with photographing the 'Man of the Future.' Impossible. I set out in search of men I found interesting, who performed or staged a kind of masculinity that broke with the 'ideal image' (my subjective ideal).

Often men perform their man-being with little self awareness. This subconscious performance interests me. It’s a contradiction between outer strength and inner insecurity. Maybe I photograph men to understand my own gender-performance? What is ‘too masculine’ and what is ‘too little’?

Who am I in this?

As a man, I view the men I photograph through different lenses. Perhaps I project onto them primarily a possibility (to become like them) or a deficit (that I perceive in myself). In any case, I want to approach them without prejudice and show them the recognition they deserve. I see men and the notion of masculinity in a crisis that won't be resolved through current social debate alone. A solution will only emerge when men speak with each other, about each other, and begin taking the many small steps needed to exit this cage of patriarchy. I'm particularly interested in men who challenge and question their own position.

So what draws me to men? I don’t think I can fully answer it. There is a tension, inside me and inside society, and I see my pictures of men as a way of dealing with this.

Writing this I wonder: what images of Masculinity do we miss in visual culture? I’d be happy to hear your thoughts.

A few resources that inspired me to reflect on masculinity

Mannsein heute – Zwischen Stärke und toxischer Männlichkeit - Sternstunde Philosophie (German)

Toxic Masculinity - This Jungian Life

The End of Patriarchy: Radical Feminism for Men by Robert Jensen

Current Project: Rimowa Design Prize

Wallpaper* Magazine and Rimowa asked me to direct a documentary following the ten finalists of the Rimowa Design Prize 2025. I was instantly in when they told me that they secured access to the iconic Bauhaus Dessau building, where the first Bauhaus university had its origins. The ideation process took form in several concepts, drawing from the images the first Bauhaus students took of each other in the building. We separated the finalists into two groups, talking about the legacy of the Bauhaus and about mobility, the topic of the Rimowa Design Prize. Cinematically, we referenced iconic photographs (especially on the balconies) and had them explore the space; in the edit we went back and forth between the historical place and the fresh perspective the students give. Director of Photography on this was again my long time collaborator and friend Philipp Lee Heidrich (full credit list is on my Instagram).

Five Questions with Cyprien Bourrec

Cyprien and me met through our mutual friend Felix. Cyprien once gave me shelter from a catastrophic thunderstorm while I was camping in Corsica. I've been following Cyprien's work from DoP to directing and love the way he manages to convey a story, an atmosphere through the camera and his work for me always feels very narrative based. You can really see, that Cyprien is a filmmaker by heart but also has a background in Art Direction and thinks further than the imagery. We sat down in Paris for lunch and I just ambushed him with these questions:

How did you get into filmmaking?

Quite random. I already had an interest in it as a kid, but never considered it a viable option. I studied Art Direction in Belgium and started working at the social media team of a fashion brand in London. It was the first time I saw this world up close – things I'd only seen in BTS images, suddenly I was in the middle of it thinking 'this is cool, but I have no idea what's happening.' I shared a warehouse with lots of freelancers back then. The living room transformed into a photo studio. The warehouse had a huge gate and within it a little door I'd go through like Alice in Wonderland, escaping the chaos of London into this magical world. With my flatmate Pierce Gabriel, we’d invite friends who were punks, DJs, and artists to the studio. Sometimes he would film videos, and I would take photos, sometimes the reverse. We had no idea what we were doing, but it was an amazing experience because there were no conditions – just experimenting.

How did you move from director of photography to being a director?

After about a year in London, I was done with the city – too much rush, not enough sunlight. I moved back to Paris to work as a freelance art director, which felt like an amazing newfound freedom. While working for Chloe, I started taking photos on the side that ended up on their Instagram. My boss surprised me by saying, 'You're going to be our in-house photographer and videographer now.' I protested that I had no idea what I was doing, but they still gave me a chance. Suddenly, I was shooting everything – digital campaigns, Christmas parties, backstage at fashion shows. I was in the middle of all these things I thought were impossible. But I learned fast, especially through YouTube tutorials whenever I wasn't working.

The brand sent me everywhere, Lanzarote, Sicily, Kyiv, London… Every location had a different context. It was phenomenal learning in such varied environments. Before Covid, people kept asking if I was a photographer or videographer, insisting I must choose one. During the pandemic, I had time to figure it out and decided to focus solely on video. I quickly moved from a one-man band videographer to Director of Photography, thanks to the many photographers I had met along the way. After working with bigger productions, I naturally moved toward becoming a director, which was always the end goal.

What's your directorial style?

I like to know where I'm going, but it doesn't have to be exact. I’m going to sound cliché, but my biggest inspiration was Lubezki's work with Terrence Malick on films like Knights of Cups, Song to Song – that was the first moment I thought, 'I can do it this way.' In those films, the camera is free, the actors are free. There's a frame and structure, but everyone can express themselves. It goes straight into poetic images where the camera and actors move freely within a basic framework. This approach showed me filmmaking doesn't have to be mathematical or rigidly planned. It can be fun.

For my commercial work, especially fashion, I apply this philosophy while dealing with practical variables – the weather, clothing availability, and tight shooting schedules. I always prepare a crazy shot list I can't possibly complete, so I can choose what makes sense in the moment. My list points in one direction, where I want to bring the video, but I keep the freedom to adapt rather than pushing for exactly what I had imagined. It's motivated by what's actually happening in the scene rather than forcing a framework onto reality. We make these films in one day – we don't have a week to say 'what if' – so this flexibility is essential.

Do you use your DoP experience when directing?

Never! Or so I say… As a DoP, your attention is set on a lot of technical variables. As a director, you need to forget all that or you're doomed – you want to focus on the person you're filming or the clothes or whatever the film's motive is. It's difficult, but I try. In pre-production, though, it's one of the most interesting parts when I talk with the DoP. We can deep dive into nerd talk beyond 'I want it to look soft’ – we’ll discuss texture, atmosphere, lenses, colours... All these crispy little details matter a lot to me.

What inspires you most?

Science-Fiction, world building, how a story can depict culture beyond just appearances: clothing, arts, language, gestures. In Dune and Andor, they really bring this to the foreground and make culture part of the story, which I find brilliant. In another domain, I love trees. Spring in Paris, one week you have buds, the next week everything is damn green everywhere. I find this sudden environmental change in such a short time super stimulating. And if I were to give one last, it’s people's dedication – the passion we put into things, how driven humans can be is fucking crazy. I find it fascinating how much time people dedicate to what they love; that drive is incredible to witness.

Monthly Discoveries

1. ‘Irrational: A Visual Directory to a World wih No Reason by Francesco Jodice & Francesco Zanot

Found this at Yvon Lambert in Paris. Lovely, horrifying accounts of irrationality in pop-culture, politics and news.

2. The most inspiring Instagram Account I’ve seen for months

3. Dreams by Akira Kurosawa

I was lucky they showed this film at Neues Off in Berlin beginning of May. Eighty year old Kurosawa stages the eight important dreams of his life. Maybe one dream for each decade? Fascinating to see how psychoalytical subjects (the mother) come up in his dreams and how events in his life (being a soldier, Tschernobyl) reflect in these dreams. Also the set design!

Looking Forward

What would you like to see explored in future editions? Feel free to reply directly to this email or comment on Substack. I'd love to hear from you.

Until next time,
Bastian

Welcome to my first official newsletter. To be honest, I was always insecure about my writing. It feels vulnerable to expose myself in written words; you cannot dial back, and sometimes it seems impossible to translate a thought that is also a feeling which is also changing into a few coherent sentences. But still, I want to give this a try.

I discovered Substack a while ago but didn't really get the hang of it at first, though I came to appreciate it more and more over time. I want to use this space not just to update you about my work, but also to give you insight into my creative process and what inspires me. My aim is to produce something that I would like to read myself. I might learn something in the process, and you might as well.

I am interested in visual worlds and how we create them, either through a lens or through imagination - this is a topic I want to explore. This relates to documentary and fashion photography as well as film, all areas I work in. I'm also fascinated by humans and why they do what they do, so my goal is to introduce an interesting person in each newsletter edition.

'Visions, Repetitions' - I chose this title because I see myself as a visual person and because I feel like art is so much an endless cycle of repeating and searching and slowly moving forward in the process.

I also want to share things that inspire me or keep me going, because I love reading recommendations for books, films, music, and thoughts - and maybe you do as well. But I am also curious: what would you like to hear more about?

For the first newsletter I’d like to share my process behind a personal film project I worked on for a few months and just released.

Current Project: 42,194 km

The Inspiration

I started running in 2020; locked inside my flat I fell in love with the easiness of the sport - taking on shoes and off you go. I ran a few half-marathons and started preparations for the 2023 Berlin Marathon but injured myself while training. I realised my body might not be made for such a long distance.

But there was one thing that really fascinated me in running: this incredible fight between your mind and body. At one point, you only want to give up, you feel pain and frustration and can't focus, and suddenly, the next moment you're in this incredible Runners High. You float, your feet fly, your body is a machine that fulfills its main purpose. You defeated that little voice that told you to stop, but for how long?

The Concept

I wanted to create a film about this inner fight (and in a way a little hero’s journey) every runner goes through. The idea came spontaneously when the Berlin Marathon 2024 came up. I used ChatGPT to develop the initial idea I had: initially I thought it would be realistic to find one image/scene representing each kilometre in the race. So 43 single scenes. I quickly realised this won't be feasible, even though ChatGPT enthusiastically agreed it would work out.

Another challenge that came up in the conceptual phase was, that it wouldn't be possible to communicate the emotional stages a runner goes through by finding representative images alone. I decided to summarize the marathon course into bigger phases, connected to common marathon lore and assign a color to each stage, drawing from the idea of color psychology and inspired by Jonathan Glazer's 'The Zone of Interest'. Each emotional stage is separated by a color plate that fades away - the color plate acting like a subliminal message or as a divider for each emotion.

For the sound, my long time collaborator Tobias Textor recorded ambiance sound along the course and created a custom sound piece, using percussion, foley and the recordings. The sound here was crucial as the camera wasn't able to convey a sense of first person point of view, so the sound had to be our main character.

Talking with Tobias and Cinematographer Philipp Lee Heidrich we defined six emotional stages we wanted to explore and find fitting scenes for:

• Energy and Optimism in the beginning (Yellow)

• Calm Concentration, after the start when you're finding your pace (Blue)

• Excitement, when you realize it's going forward (Orange)

• Painful Exhaustion, that sets in after a while (Red)

• Desperation, when you only want to give up (Grey)

• Runners High, as the final reward when you realize you're about to make it (Turquoise)

The Implementation

Philipp and I both filmed, while Tobias moved along the course with his recording equipment and sometimes the three of us met up. For me, it was the first time filming something that I intended to release, and a big challenge, to hold still but also to know when to actually stop a recording. I guess this is a common problem for photographers recording moving images. I was way too slow following all the runners. I liked the challenge to find unconventional angles and scenes, training the eye in a way.

It was intense, finding images that you wouldn't expect within a short time. Also, we quickly learned it was harder than anticipated to shake away the documentary perspective and find a subjective perspective. When bringing everything together in the edit we had to first find the most engaging scenes and then decide which ones have the most subjective standpoint. Which scenes hint to an emotion and which ones tell too much documentary? The rhythm of the scenes had to steer the emotional stages. The film had to have a rythm but also break this up to convey the harder emotional turmoil. Tobias used panting sounds in one of his first drafts, but then translated the panting of a runner into flute sounds.

I learned a lot about the challenges a documentary perspective adds to the edit process and I learned a lot about editing. I learned that texture is sometimes more important than an image that explains everything. This was very much a collaborative project between Philipp, Tobias and me and I learned that a good collaboration needs extensive feedback and structure. I’m also super grateful for Francis Qureshi and his agent Amy to see the potential in our project and do the grading.

You can watch the film here:

I would love to hear what you think!

Five Questions with Larissa Hofmann

Larissa and me met the first time in 2014 when we were both in New York, signed at the same modelling agency. We kept in touch over the years and both moved from modelling to photography, through different ways and different interests. I’ve always been a fan of her work, fascinated by her sensibility towards color and composition and how she maintains this playfulness and stringency throughout her work. We met in Berlin and had the chance to chat about her work:

Q: How did your perspective on representation and staging shift when you moved from modelling to photography?

A: When I first started modelling, everything moved so quickly that I didn’t give much thought to the overall composition of an image. Like most people in front of a camera, my focus naturally shifted to how I looked. Of course, I noticed composition, had my favourite photos, and felt drawn to certain photographers’ work, but more than anything, I was focused on the work itself - and happy if the client and team were pleased with the result.

Art played a central role in my last two years before the Abitur, so I had a foundation in composition, at least in theory. Whenever I travelled for work, I gravitated towards museums and galleries, drawn to the images around me. I sought them out whenever I could - I’ve always had a deep curiosity for the visual world. But it wasn’t until I started taking my own photos later in my modelling years that I truly began to see light and composition in a new way. Over time, I found myself instinctively imagining how I would approach a shot differently, and the more aware I became of this, the harder it was to continue modelling

Eventually, I made a conscious decision to step away from both being photographed and photographing myself, feeling the need to create a clear separation between the two.

Q: You often photograph nudes in unconventional perspectives. Q: What interests you about the body and the nude?

A: For me, the body is a crucial part of image composition. Photographing someone nude, in a sense, involves a deep level of trust—there’s a unique beauty in stripping away all layers (both physically and emotionally) and creating an intimate connection between the lens and the subject.

I never want to objectify or sexualise anyone. When I was photographed, especially by male photographers, I often felt like a role was being projected onto me. Whether nude or not, if I didn’t fit their vision exactly, I could sense their frustration. In those moments, I rarely recognised myself in the images, and I couldn’t help but wonder why I had given a part of myself to someone who wasn’t open to collaboration. It often felt like the result was more about their projection than a shared vision. I understand modelling involves playing a role to bring a concept to life, but I also believe a model should have space to express themselves within that role. That’s something I often felt was missing in those experiences.

When I photograph people, my goal is to create a space where they can simply be themselves. It’s a dialogue, not a one-sided decision. I approach each person with openness and acceptance, aiming to capture them in their truest form.

Q: What I really like about your images is the use of household objects and how you play around with dioramas. What’s the meaning or story behind those objects for you?

A: I can’t quite explain why I’m drawn to everyday objects and give them a new perspective - it’s something that just comes naturally. As a child I was always crafting, drawing, and making up little stories, lost in my own world. You don’t have to travel far to discover something new; often, the most interesting things are right in front of you, in places you’ve seen a hundred times. You might overlook them until one day something catches your eye in a completely different way. I enjoy transforming what’s around me, creating something unique from ordinary objects. There’s a playful quality to it that feels true to me. I like how these elements contrast with the more direct, raw aspects of my work - it’s a balance that feels natural, not forced.

Q: How do you balance your artistic vision with commercial requirements?

A: Every commercial project is different, so I approach each one based on what’s needed and how I can bring my own artistic vision to it. Some projects involve creative directors and stylists who add their input and I really enjoy that collaborative aspect.

I have certain elements I need in every project, though how they show up can vary. Sometimes they’re more obvious and other times they’re more subtle. I like when a story has rhythm and tension, or when there are elements that leave people second-guessing. It keeps things interesting. I enjoy the planning and research that goes into shoots, but I’ve learned that pushing your vision without compromise doesn’t always work. Staying flexible and open-minded is key; coming in with a rigid mindset can definitely get in the way. To keep creating, I’ve found I need a balance between personal work that inspires me and commercial projects where I help bring other people’s ideas to life.

Q: What do you want to explore in the future?

A: I recently joined a new agency, so after months of managing everything on my own, I finally feel like I can step back and reassess what I want to do creatively. That side of things had to take a backseat while I focused on the admin and logistics of handling my own bookings and commercial work - so this feels like a new chapter.

The past few weeks have been a kind of research phase, which I enjoy immensely. I’ve taken a couple of smaller trips, seen some shows, had great conversations - both with people I haven’t seen in a while and with new acquaintances. Lots of walks and solitude. Had some nights out and have hidden away to read, reflect, and watch things. I’ve been using this time to think about personal projects and ask myself: What do I want to do next?

Monthly Discoveries

1. 'Conversations with Kiarostami' by Godfrey Cheshire

Short interviews Film Critic Cheshire led with the Iranian Director Abbas Kiarostami, structured by the time of appearance of each film. Kiarostami doesn't take himself seriously at all, shares deep wisdom and at the same time sounds like an eternal seeker. Very inspiring. It felt validating to hear about the struggles and small stories that often get overlooked in more traditional film analysis.

2. 'La Cocina' by Alonso Ruizpalacios

Shit is about to go down in a Times Square Restaurant. A film that didn't receive enough attention in my opinion. It's funny, claustrophobic, sad, disgusting, unexpected. I love how magic realism is used in such a nonchalant way. The kitchen becomes a universe of its own, with rules and hierarchies that mirror our larger society. Definitely worth seeking out. 4/5! Also I love this wave of Magic Realism in Cinema at the moment.

3. Gratitude Diary

I started a gratitude diary to tackle procrastination - and it works. Maybe this newsletter is also a result of it. Each morning I write down the things I achieve and I ask my inner avoider and inner creative what they actually need from me today. At the end of the work-day, I reflect what worked out, what didn't, and write what I felt grateful for. It's helped me recognize patterns in my creative blocks and find gentler ways to work through them. I think this newsletter is a direct result of this practice.

Looking Forward

What would you like to see explored in future editions? Feel free to reply directly to this email or comment on Substack - I'd love to hear from you.

Until next time,
Bastian

Dear friends,

Over these past months, I've been reflecting a lot on my relationship with Instagram and social media, as many of you probably have too. It's now impossible to deny that the owners of these platforms don't care about the "community" and “values” on their platforms and we all know since years that “we are the product”.

Those who know me a bit better, know of my complicated relationship with social media. I've developed elaborate control mechanisms against my social media addiction – and I sincerely apologize to anyone I've ever wanted to quickly show something I've seen on Instagram.

I originally turned to Instagram sharing my travels and connecting with friends and I might not have become a photographer if my dad wouldn't have seen my 2010 posts on here with the OG filters, thinking this looks analogue; let's give the boy a analogue camera. Instead, I've found here a narcissism-fueling environment, unchecked news and opinions next to advertisements and a feeling of emptiness when I close the app. And I've realized the last weeks, that through social media I never learned to exchange ideas, but only to consume.

What I love about my work are the authentic moments and connections I encounter and sometimes capture. Social media increasingly seems to hinder rather than help with that. The endless scrolling has replaced meaningful engagement with creative work and the processes behind it.

I would like to start an experiment: a newsletter.

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Not another one you might think, and you might be right but this is my attempt to teach myself what Instagram couldn't: how to engage in authentic creative exchange – not through likes and comments, but through thoughts, processes, and also genuine conversations I want to have with other creatives. I love to see how people approach their work and I love to learn from this. I am not only drawn to creative perspectives, but also to sociologist, philosophical, psychological perspectives. It sometimes feels like we're all trying to decipher a common language.

What to expect from "Visions, Repetitions":

• Every 4-8 weeks, I'll share longer reflections on my creative process

• You'll see works-in-progress and finished projects

• I'll connect personal projects, commercial work, and how I deal with the tensions between documentary and commercial photography

• I do a short Q&A with a person, whose work and ideas I find inspiring

• updates on what I'm currently exploring and what inspires me

• No algorithms and dopamine hits - just connecting around visual storytelling and the creative process

Also I'd like to know: What aspects of (my) creative process interest you most? What would you like to see explored in this newsletter? I'd love to hear your thoughts. You can simply reply to this email.

If you’d like to receive this newsletter, you can subscribe to it here:

Thank you,
Bastian

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