What are you currently working on—and what do you find particularly stimulating or challenging about it?
Right now, I’m finishing up work on my exhibition ›Herbst‹, which will open at Haus am Lützowplatz (HaL) during Berlin Art Week. It’s my first show in Berlin in ten years, and all of the works have been created specifically for the space—including some very large-format pieces. The paintings respond directly to the architectural context of HaL and use artistic means to draw connections between current events and historical moments. The show is therefore incredibly complex and layered, both conceptually and in its execution.
Do you have a daily ritual that gives you structure or inspiration?
For me, it’s essential to establish a routine with set hours in the studio. The key is convincing myself that there are no appointments or outside obligations, that the process in the studio can take however long it needs, even if that’s rarely true in practice. I often lie down on my sofa—not to sleep, but to start painting the image in my head first.
What kind of music do you listen to when you want to focus or reconnect with your creative process?
Actually, what helps me reset my focus most is exercise. It helps me find balance and quiet the left side of my brain, giving the creative leaps of the right side more room to unfold. When I’m working, I usually listen to audiobooks—which, surprisingly, don’t distract me at all.
Has there been a book that fundamentally changed your perspective—and why would you recommend it?
›The Satanic Verses‹ by Salman Rushdie. When I checked it out from the library as a teenager, I was really just curious why the Ayatollah had issued a fatwa against the author. What I discovered instead was a book in which the profound was seamlessly woven together with crude humour, and the unbelievable with the banal. Rushdie conjured such fascinating images—often surreal, yet somehow describing our world all the more precisely—that I was completely captivated. This book fundamentally changed the way I perceived literature and sparked in me the desire to create paintings that could move people as deeply as ›The Satanic Verses‹ moved me.
Is there a work of art you would love to have in your home?
The ›Asparagus‹ by Manet.
Which exhibition venue in Berlin inspires you?
One of my favourite exhibition spaces was ›Das kleine Grosz Museum‹. Sadly, it no longer exists.
Is there an object that accompanies you and reflects a part of your identity?
I have two tins I use to clean my brushes. I’ve had them since I first started painting. By now, they’re so covered in oil and paint that they look more like stalactite caves than metal containers. I even brought them with me when I moved from the U.S. to Europe.
What keeps you going, even in moments of doubt?
Pure stubbornness… and a lack of alternatives. I’ve been a painter for 25 years now, and I can’t imagine doing anything else.
Which personality would you like to have a conversation with—and what would you talk about?
At the moment, with Otto Dix. With the works I painted for Haus am Lützowplatz, I had a very intense imaginary dialogue with Dix about his paintings, his world, and his worldview—and I would have really liked to talk to him in reality.
What do you look forward to when your working day comes to an end?
To my family.