left hand sentences
[i work with words]

When I could no longer write a word out of fear that it was the wrong one, I started with the method of left hand sentences. I had developed it for myself one summer in the east of Germany. I used my left hand instead of my right, a practiced, well-trained hand, to start writing. My arm quickly became heavy and my hand cramped due to the unusual work. But then, with time, I started to write. Or rather: to draw letters.

The handwriting looks like that of a child, but without the recklessness. Trying to write in this unaccustomed way requires both physical and mental capacity. And at the same time: a lot of letting go. I start with a word, or just a few words, which then become a line, perhaps a paragraph.

The left hand sentences thus become a method for me to calm down physically and mentally and at the same time: to let go. I find my way back to what is important to me in language and in my own perception: a lucid, questioning gaze. Few things that capture a lot. To be content that the openness with which I encounter the world will be enough for this moment. Because perfection brings silence and immobility.