Author

I write field notes, essays, and stories about things I encounter: physical places and imagined ones, objects with histories, sensory moments, collections, mysteries, games, memories, and curious connections.

Much of my writing begins with observation. Something catches my attention before I fully understand why. I follow it through context, association, research, memory, and interpretation until a larger story begins to form.

I am particularly interested in places and objects because both can carry traces.

A place can hold atmosphere, history, use, memory, tension, change, and possibility.

An object can carry signs of its maker, owner, purpose, material, culture, journey, age, and use.

Neither exists in isolation. Meaning often becomes clearer through the relationships surrounding it.

I publish many of my writings on Waldverloren — a notebook of places, things, and what I notice along the way.

Connector

Much of what I do involves bringing things into relation.

People and ideas. Objects and stories. Designers and manufacturers. Makers and collectors. Places and possibilities.

Sometimes the right thing already exists and needs to be found.

Sometimes it needs to be made.

Sometimes someone owns several things without yet seeing the thread that connects them.

This is where Sinnesdinge begins.

Sinnesdinge is my agency for special things: bespoke, limited, collectible, carefully made objects and the people who design, produce, collect, and live with them.

I assist with finding, commissioning, selecting, connecting, and helping something distinctive reach the person or place to which it belongs.

Where I Come From

Throughout much of my professional career, I worked with systems, data, technology, and analysis.

I translated complexity into structure, recognized patterns, investigated problems, built analytical systems, and helped people make sense of information-rich situations.

But information itself was rarely what interested me most. I was interested in what could be discovered through it:

The pattern behind the numbers.
The relationship between apparently separate elements.
The detail that changed the interpretation.
The missing piece.
The wider context.

That way of looking at things reaches far back. Since childhood, I have been drawn to libraries, mysteries, books, unusual objects, atmospheric places, maps, films, games, music, drawings, toys, and imagined worlds.

I used to perceive these interests as separate and unrelated. Moving between them seemed like a frequent shift of focus, a certain lack of consistency and steadiness. But over the years I came to understand them as variations of the same impulse:

to explore, notice, collect, connect – to tell stories about what I find.