The rivers from the Atlas Mountains can not speak or cry,

the only language they have is the flow of the water they carry. 

​

 

Why we love landscapes

 

For centuries, artists have fallen in love with landscapes. For different reasons, different purposes and with different outcomes. From classical antiquity, the Middle Ages through Impressionism until today.

 

Throughout history, landscapes have been a means for philosophical contemplation about humanity's place in the world. 

 

The invention of photography in the early 19th century revolutionized the visual arts. Early photographers captured landscapes with a new level of detail and realism. For example, photographers' ability to capture fleeting moments may have inspired Impressionist painters to explore the effects of light and atmosphere in new ways. 

 

The art of making art was and is shifting all the time. Influencing each other's ‘craft’ back and forth, which is actually very enriching. An act of ‘rethinking’ as a perpetuum mobile. 
 

 

Why I love the landscapes of the High Atlas Mountains

 

I am an intuitive artist, with a professional background in social and cultural work, searching for stories and environments that have no voices or have a hidden (his)story for the general public. I feel a lot for the untold and unseen. Almost as a ‘revealer’ or maybe activist - I don’t know what the right word is - I’m always searching for stories that don’t have the words or the images yet to send a message to the world.

 

This ATLAS series is an evolving project I started in February 2024 and will be continued the next few years. 

 

It started with my devotion for the wonderful nature of the Atlas Mountains, her silence, rivers, the nearby deserts, the apparent peace and harmony, the poetry woven into nature.The apparent harmony of the mountain people and their wise and peaceful lives. 

 

I fell in love with the views, the silence and the skies. 

 

This is what I want to share and to show. 

Yet, there is an underlayer. 
 

 

When art becomes engaged art. 

 

Rethinking the traditional landscape art and landscape photography, rethinking my own desires and romantic feelings about nature, rethinking what I want to show or what I want to keep hidden turned out to be a huge challenge.

 

As I spoke with my taxi-drivers and guides in Morocco, day after day, my romantic feelings about the High Atlas Mountains changed. Along with them, I started to worry about the snowfall in winter, about the water, about the impact of global warming and about the future lives of their children. The age-old irrigation systems of the mountain villages, Marrakech and the broader region are under pressure because of an alarming shortage of water. 

 

Without this information you can read my images as a celebration of nature. Her beauty will always be there. And we, humans, will always have romantic feelings and an almost inexpressible admiration for the wonders of nature. For thousands of years, we had and still have. 

 

It almost feels as hurting the public when as an artist, you want to share a message or create an awareness. But I think, when you rethink the art of photography, as many photographers did before my time, it’s one of the most urgent missions we have as an artist and in case we have the right platform, we’re almost responsible to use this space to send a message. 

 

Conclusion

 

So here we are, here I am. 

 

The landscape art has evolved from - roughly said - an assistant (decor, not much more than an enhancing symbol), to a call for action on climate change, in the tradition of Sebastião Salgado or Edward Burtynsky. 

 

Rethinking is more than rethinking, it’s a challenge to venture. And it never ends.