My work begins where trust in technology ends. I live in a world that photographs everything and remembers nothing, and I make art from that contradiction: video, sound installation, code and electronic music as instruments of exposure. Machines speak in my pieces — glitched, stuttering, cold — while the people in them stay stubbornly, painfully human.

Born in Saarbrücken in 1972, trained as a film director in Belgium, at home in Berlin since 1996, I have spent three decades building an unsettling archive of the present. My open-art complex „the code is cold“ stages surveillance and simulation as a weather system; my video series DOGS shows how digital life animalises us; my electronic incarnation Ur.X turns polyrhythms and fractured voices into danceable paranoia. Underlying all of it is the same question: what does identity mean when the self is endlessly copied, streamed and simulated?

I do not offer answers. Alienation is my material — the quiet vertigo of being watched, misunderstood, multiplied. If my work feels bleak, that is because I refuse to decorate the condition; I expose it. But within every glitch there is a moment where the image fails and the human shows through. That failure is where I look. That is where my art lives.