In the past I often thought about a scene that Stanislaw Lem describes quite incidentally in the first paragraph of his science fiction novel “Fiasko“. A worker on one of Saturn‘s moons is compelled to observe a limitless, bizarre scenery of ice before subjecting himself to an emergency cryogenic process. Many thoughts run through his mind at that point, but one central idea revolves around the fact that nature produces its most magnificent works of art far away from inhabited regions.

There, it produces a richness of forms and impressions that fills every human artist with awe - but, despite this, is free of any vain desire to show off these constructs. These thoughts have accompanied me on many journeys ever since and - whether in the Postojna Caves, between the dunes in the Sahara, or in the presence of the Ilulissat icebergs - it is always the human being who has to go out of his way to see the wonders of nature. Nature never seems to want to bring its works to us. It creates, without asking - and destroys, without any effort for permanence.

But now to photography. As a landscape photographer you often have to ask yourself how far you are willing to go to find your subjects. Fortunately, it is not necessary, as in Lem‘s novel, to visit one of Saturn‘s moons - because even on our own planet there are places full of exuberant visual richness and beauty. When I was 18, a friend and I ascended the Skierfe mountain on the edge of the Sarek National Park in Lappland. As I enjoyed the incredible view of the snake-like branching arms of the river Rapaälv, I knew, that walking out into the wild will reward me - always.

Wenn Eis sich quer stellt