Invisible Sights of Budapest

(Series of analogue c-prints and b/w baryth-prints in different sizes.)

As a traveller abroad you always observe things, people and places around you like through a filter. You are not part of them - you are not one of them. To some extent you always remain a passer-by.
A fresh and undisturbed view demands foreignness. Foreignness gives us invisibility in the eyes of our surrounding. But our own eyes seem to see sharper because we are focused on the unexpected. We have the chance to see connections, the habits of people, the architecture of public spaces and sociology more focused and without prejudices.
That is why I decided to put a filter in form of a bed sheet and a plastic wrap between my recording device, the camera, and the things, persons and places that seemed important: in order to be “one of them”, to get in touch. The shape of the sights got clearer by blurring their contours. New, random contours came up. The re picturing of the Hungarian parliament would say nothing. As the word “green” does not say anything. But we can get an experience of green when lying in a green meadow and looking up to the blue sky. So we know what green is. As Camus expressed it: “Nobody dares to tell who he really is”. We all construct a reality around us instead. That is easier.
This one is kind of happily unfocused: a visual diary about getting connected. The line of difference gets drawn by itself.


I was generously offered a free studio to work and live in during this stay in Budapest in winter 2005/06. In the studio I slept in a large double bed on white bed sheets.
I often went to international book shops in order to buy English literature. In one of the shops´ back rooms, filled with litter and construction material, I found an about three times four meter large plastic-wrap. I bought Dylan Thomas´ “Portrait of the Artist as a Young Dog” and got the plastic wrap for free.
Sitting a lot in coffee houses, I started to draw sketches of sights of the town, remembering them from the day passed by. I often spent the days walking through the streets of Pest. I started to think more and more about this two “white-screens” I had in my studio now: a large bed sheet and an even larger, half-transparent plastic wrap. I also found a piece of wood which seemed to be made for a teatralic, pseudo-religious painting. A piece of dark wood in shape of a pre raphaelite saint-painting. Ágnes and I had been to the catholic sacrifice of Hungary, the cathedral of Estergom. We saw the scull of the founder of Hungary, St. Karoly, under a glass-vitrine in the aisle of the church. The original had been stolen in the 18th century...