Some of my oldest photos from bondage. Back then still with cotton ropes. Today I reach exclusively for jute, which gives the whole work a completely different character.

But the roots go even further back. Long before I came across shibari as such, I was tying purely instinctively. Without techniques, without rules. Just scarves, curiosity and the desire to explore. (Also horniness).

Looking back at it, it's interesting to observe the shift, from intuitive searching to conscious work with rope, tension and aesthetics. Each phase has its own magic.


She closed her eyes.

She wasn't helpless, as someone might think. She was surrendered. Voluntarily. That was the difference that can't be explained, only experienced.

In that tension that held her body, her mind began to fade. Thoughts dissolved. Only breath remained, rhythm and presence.

And somewhere between the individual knots she understood that it's not about being tied up.

But about finally allowing herself to stop controlling everything.

The photos were originally meant to be documentary, so I could remember the time spent together. In the end, it turned into a slightly peculiar gallery from the hotel.