I started to travel remote places extensively as I turned 22 years, when I spent half a year in Australia, mostly in the Tasmanian wilderness. The North American Rockies and the ranges of Central Asia followed soon after.

Once a shepherd in the Kyrgyz mountains asked me: “Why are you doing this? Why are you walking for months through this valleys?” Back then I didn’t really know at first what to answer him. It’s actually a very complex question. To put it simply, this just evolved to be one of the ways I want to live my life. It’s about waking up in a tent with the sunrise in the morning and falling asleep as the last light-rays disappear behind a horizon of snow-capped peaks, spending the day mostly with putting one foot in front of the other, or one hand above the other while climbing mountains, for weeks, for months.

It’s a world that is confined to the very basics, to oneself, to ones’ human and/or animal companions, deprived of most commodities. Although objectively and physically harder, subjectively life becomes easier. I think this is mostly due to the psychological effects of being stripped possibilities and material, which tends to deter the attention of the mind. Photography is another way for me to drop into this experience, through intensely examining the environment and waiting for shapes and details to fall together into a picture. The pinnacle of this meditation-mode though turned out to be rock-climbing for me. While there are still many ways my mind wanders off while walking on foot through easy terrain, on the rock my brain is literally forced to live the moment.