As I get the „How come“ question from time to time, which by the way is perfectly understandable, I decided to write a little text about my motivation to walk this path of tennis photography, especially women’s tennis photography with the focus on „beauty“, whatever that is.
After an unremarkable childhood, being bullied, overfed and overlooked, with a protestant mother quite hostile to life and a rake and ladykiller as father, I discoverd my talent for music followed by turbulent twenty years with too much lovin’ and drinking, too little sleep, with my hair dyed, golden sneakers and lots of lovely women. Stretched too thin by that there had to come the obligatory breakdown and crisis, therapy then, healing, self-discovery. From then I didn’t go on tour again so much, played in hotel bars and places like that instead and discovered my love (and talent) for teaching music.
Then the years, where my (at very old age finally divorced) parents each needed some aid and accompaniment on their last paths, first my mother, then my father. Since my father had been a director at some big company, who had earned quite good money, I inherited some of it, which I, besides musical instruments and equipment, put in some very nice travelling and a rather decent photo gear. I shot pictures on my journeys and in nature, buds contre-jour and so on. Got some compliments from artist-friends, always combined with warnings, that there would be almost no perspective in trying to make some money out of it.
After a six-year regular educational job as keyboard teacher for primary school children had ended, I had a creative boost and wrote a whole repertoire for a large band project with a five-strong horn section and all the trimmings. When the time came to give birth to that baby by contacting musicians and so on, I fell into a deep depression, which lasted almost six months. I finally realized, that it would have needed an energy to help this project through the mandatory growing pains, which I probably wouldn*t have anymore.
Here’s some of my music. What I do is always kinda jazzy, but I chose some of the more groovy stuff for this playlist…
So I did nothing much than to sleep from autumn to spring. Then finally I started thinking. Years ago I had begun to watch tennis more and more, bought the apps of Eurosport and Tennis-TV, started to visit tournaments in person, Stuttgart, Luxembourg. I was in the crowd, when Simona Halep played Sharapova in the 2014 Roland Garros final, and so on. And I always loved to see/make good photos.
The idea was to combine those two fields of interest, which I did, accompanied by the vision of seeing the images published in high quality photobooks some day. One thing led to another and now I am working hard to get the presentation of all the photos I took since autumn 2015 in shape in order to contact some publishers and sponsors, hoping to find some interest and support for my vision somewhere.
From my parents, the nun and the debaucher, I inherited the splits between strong morality and the deep love for women’s beauty. After having tried and failed twice to settle down in a serious and lasting partnership, I decided to quit looking for love but to live alone as a “promiscuous celibate”, practicing my adoration without living it.
What I am looking for in my pictures is nothing but the ball, the communication, energy, flow, unusual aspects. As I prefer to take single shots instead of leaving all the work to the camera’s motor, I often have to shoot hundred pics in order to get the two or three results I am content with. That of course is giving an a little bit weird impression. Not so often anymore, but still from time to time I have to face suspicious looks or remarks from people who cannot believe that I am seriously working and prefer to assume base motives instead. Understandably, as there are a lot of hobby poachers out there. But a little bit tedious as well. But it’s part of the job. I hope that there comes the time when a wider public will get the chance to form their own opinion of what it’s all about.
So: „Three minutes.“ „Two minutes.“ „One minute.“ Time!“
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