Dear Anna_am sitting in the train_watching the passing landscapes_thinking of your frottages_I suddenly recognize something_and just as quickly it is gone_my eyes are restlessly scanning the surfaces of your works_the relief behind it_it was_you have told fairy tales_touching Braille in blind faith_you have rubbed off time and space_juxtaposition and sequences_pigments suggest blending and meshing_the rustle of your Faber Castell crayons has united time and space on paper_a pond in a forest has just whisked by_the surface is reflective_a slight fog vanishes in the passing light of the cold air_is there a dead dog in the water_with its inflated belly_your dogs are alive_they are circling_they are looking for something_my eyes become calm_recognizing or not recognizing_doesn’t matter_I have explored the oblong format_at the moment I can rest_time will discover new things for me_over and over again_landscapes and animals_spring makes bushes miraculously semi-transparent_recognizing or not recognizing what is behind_doesn’t matter_suddenly, flying low, a big South-Korean cargo aircraft_white belly_light blue hunchback_national identification sign on the fin_circle_Yang and Yin_where is the airport_no idea_is it your inflatable objects that have called me_your forms in their transparency_recognition peters out in bodies_am losing myself in the images passing by_their merciless pulling_shrubs growing rampantly along the slopes_their branches_your strokes_vibrations everywhere_am closing my eyes_music starts playing_underworld_hey kiss me I kiss you kiss me I kiss you_she is on the phone again_she is calling from America_Mona Mona Mona_the city loves you loves you loves you_loves everyone_full moon full moon_the train clatters along_the ventilation is whirring_am hearing the rubbing of reliefs_your archive of pictures_your stockpile_these chunks of your language_you rub them into sentences_fragments of stories_the eye meanders_recognizing or not recognizing_lets drop_my vocabulary sets in_stumbling, my own tales are told_blackthorn is blooming_a fleeting waft a cloud_a black semitrailer truck speeds through the landscape on its tarpaulin flapping in the wind your birds your dance the torero frogs bullfight cave painting_ejector seat_tunnel the images are gone_there is light shining in from the other end_a dazzling illumination_grass sprouts from scorched earth_two horses are lying on the floor with their legs angled sideways_am with them_all is still_the images the journey_very truly yours Claudio

Text Claudio Moser

Photos Gallery Frehrking Wiesehöfer, Cologne