STORYTELLING
Design ist meine Leidenschaft. Der Rote Faden in meinem Leben.
Denn ohne Farbe und Form wäre alles nur halb so schön.
Familiensache
Künstlerisches Schaffen und Kreativität haben mich in meiner Familie von Anfang an begleitet.
Meine Großmutter war künstlerisch sehr begabt. Doch als junge Frau die Kunstakademie in Hamburg zu besuchen,
war für sie nicht möglich gewesen. Mit dem Entwerfen und Schneidern von Kleidung hat sie ihre Familie im Krieg und
danach über Wasser gehalten. Später, im betagteren Alter fand sie Ausdruck in der Ölmalerei. Der Funke sprang über.
Meine ebenfalls künstlerisch veranlagte Mutter machte aus ihrer Begabung eine Profession. Sie absolvierte eine
Ausbildung zur Plakat- und Schriftmalerin und war in den Dekorationsabteilungen der großen Kaufhäuser Hamburgs,
wie dem Alsterhaus, tätig, bevor sie zusammen mit meinem dynamischen Vater, erfolgreich in PR und Marketing,
nach Afrika ging. So wurde es mir bereits in die Wiege gelegt, die Freude am Gestalten, der Sinn für Ästhetik und
das kreative und konzeptionelle Denken.
Uganda
Meine Kindheit in Afrika prägte mich sehr. Uganda, das grüne Paradies mit der roten Erde, den fruchtbaren Böden
und den Hochlandplantagen. Ich war umgeben von den satten Farben eines subtropischen Landes nahe dem
Äquator. Ein Genuss für einen visuell ausgelegten Menschen. Riesige Bananenstauden am Straßenrand, in unserem
Garten Bäume mit Papayas und Mangos inmitten üppiger Vegetation, die Märkte angereichert mit exotischen
Früchten und zu der Zeit in Deutschland noch völlig unbekannten Gemüsesorten, wie Okra. Im Englischen
'lady's finger' genannt, beflügeln sie die Phantasie eines Kindes sehr.
Meine Eltern hatten in Kampala eine Doppelhaushälfte in Hanglage im Stadtteil Kololo inmitten eines großzügigen
Grundstückes bezogen. Schon bald erblickte ich das Licht der Welt. Als sich unser Nachbar Ahmed aus Ägypten in eine
Engländerin verliebte und die beiden heirateten, war es wie ein Sechser im Lotto. Janet, eine Textildesignerin von
der Isle of Man und meine Mutter wurden 'Best Friends'. Gemeinsam wurde gebatikt und kreiert und die großräumige
offene Garage erwachte zum Atelier der beiden Frauen.
Schon damals war Kampala eine multikulturelle und internationale Stadt mit Menschen aus aller Welt. Einen großen Einfluss
auf das Straßenbild hatte die 'indische community.' Die Inder waren bereits lange zuvor ins Land gekommen, um am Bau der
Eisenbahnlinie von Uganda bis an den Indischen Ozean mitzuwirken. Die Familien waren geblieben, seßhaft geworden und
bestimmten einen Großteil des Handels und Dienstleistungssektors in Kampala. Die Inder hatten nicht nur ihre wunderbare
Esskultur sondern auch ihre farbenprächtig gemusterten Stoffe mit ins Land gebracht. Die nun dazu verwendet wurden, die
traditionelle Tracht der Afrikanerinnen, den bodenlangen Gomesi oder Busuuti noch eindrucksvoller zu machen. Voluminöse
Gewänder und dazu ein kunstvoll drapierter Stoffturban prägten das Straßenbild, besonders aufwendig und schillernd an
jedem Sonntag, wenn es in die Kirche ging.
African childhood
“Oh, Africa! How come you were born there?” Now and then I discuss my place of birth like this. A woman with a
South African family background once asked me about my parents' profession. “Were they missionaries or teachers?”
“No, actually not. My father worked for an international company.” “Ah, a business person!” “Well, yeah, kind of.
Maybe you know the company? Bata?” “Bata! I grew up with Bata shoes!”
Imagine the mid sixties in Germany. A country in the aftermath of World War II. Slowly recovering from a nightmare
just twenty years behind. A young couple from Hamburg in their twenties. A job offer. A phone call. My adventurous
dad: “What do you think about living in Africa?” My mom, already an experienced traveller: “Fine, lets go!”
It helped a lot, that I wasn’t born yet. At that time the idea of having children in Africa was kind of scary to my mother. But once
they had arrived in Uganda, it didn’t take long to figure out, that they had hurled themselves into paradies. Well, kind of. For
a short time. To complete their happy status, a child was born. But the irony of fate is tricky. Leaving a country that had been
tormented by one of the worlds leading dictators, they were about to meet the next one: Idi Amin. Until then Africa meant the
best time of their being. They had access to a polyglott lifestyle which had been beyond their imagination before.
We had the chance to partake a post-colonial period of time in Africa. Something inbetween the highly romanticised
'Out of Africa' Tanja Blixen like life and the globalized present age, shaped by the communication and information
technology. In 1962 Uganda had become independant from the United Kingdom. The country had been under British
protectorate since 1894 and had developed a flourishing economy with the cultivation of coffee and cotton. A young
democracy on its way to become part of the modern era, not yet going through the sufferings and agonies of a long civil war.
Stepping into this world
My mother kept all our photographic memories under her safe custody. When she died, I knew, now I am the one
in charge. My father was about to move to another place and I eagerly collected what was left. He had already cleared
the basement and dumped all our Super 8 camera films and dias from a kind of magical past into the landfill. I felt
slightly shocked. And this is a kind of nice wording to describe my emotional condition. When instructing him before
not to throw away any images on paper, I hadn’t thought about the cellar. With my leftovers from hidden boxes,
cupboards and drawers I drove back home and started sorting them. And I came across these pictures, I had already
forgotton about. They give me a good feeling. When I stepped into this world, I was taken care of by two beautiful women,
my mother and Josefine. I love my mothers dress and her hairdo for one of our first photo sessions. So simple and elegant.
This reminds me of Jackie O or Audrey Hepburn at that time. And I love my first really cool 'car' that my father had provided
for me from close to scratch.
Many many years later
Coming back from the US with my husband, we had settled in Dresden, a most charming town in Germany
and I had just become a mum myself. With my baby boy I went for very long walks every day. We both felt more
comfortable outside than being in our apartment. Him watching the trees, the birds and the clouds go by. With eyes
wide opened – widened in a kind of curious disbelief. Me searching about the cobblestone pavement streets on our way
down to the river Elbe. Eagerly passing the charming old reconstructed houses with lots of boutique little shops. Some of
them manufacturing their goods in a back room studio. Aside from shopping mall uniformity these shops displayed
something I like: creativity, unique design, handmade stuff, quality and passion. After studying fashion design in Hamburg,
I had been working in advertising for a couple of years. Working with the computer is fun. But I had already forgotten about
my crafting skills then. Was handicraft slowly reviving? Or had it been kind of preserved in this hidden and unknown part
of my reunified country? During our residence in New York at the beginning of the new century our apartment on Main
Street in Irvington was above a very similar ‘petite’ fancy little shop with the very enchanting name: Buttermilk Blue. From
looking around this very welcoming place with lovely handmade items, I could already tell, there is something going on.
While trying to keep up with my freelance business in the evening and taking care of my little son by day, strolling
around, watching young fashionable people cross the streets and finding out about appealing events and activities
in town, I had the vision to collect all these moments and publish them. Maybe some kind of newspaper or blog about
streetstyle, artists in town, whats going on, vanguard and edgy stuff. I connected to a group of people with similar ideas.
But before being able to dig in, my daughter was born and shortly afterwards we moved to another city.
Now there were two little ones and I was trying to settle in again in a town quite different from the one before.
As soon as my daughter started to visit the Waldorf kindergarden, inspiration was back. A very cosy place with
one of the most beautiful backyards constructed over many years to be a perfect playground. Trees to climb,
walnuts to collect in autumn, a treehouse, a huge area filled with sand, little wooden houses and hedges to hide,
small paths winding themselves around flower beds with various plants and herbage, where kids could
perfectly race around with their vehicles or chase eachother. In summertime they spent hours looking for snails,
building homes for these peculiar creatures and watching them. Again I had the feeling, all this was made with love.
Besides the indoor activities were also quite splendid. Not only for the kids. Lots of parents gathering together
in the evening or on the weekend, joyfully crocheting, knitting, felting, sewing, weaving or doing woodwork for
the annual bazaar, where you could get the most yummy homemade cakes and muffins in town. What a
pleasure! It didn’t take long and our daughter came home, enthusiastically asking for paper, chromatic cardboard,
pencils, crayons, brushes, watercolour, scissors, glue, ribbons, beads, feathers and even more. And I had to
stockpile these items, which was fun to me. It seemed my computer had already taken over my life far too much.
I watched her handicrafting with utter satisfaction and slowly got inspired again. This little girl focussing on her work
with great discipline and willpower was amazing. I started to run my sewing machine again.
Interior – and how does your place look like?
When I was a teenager in the mid 80’s, living in the country-side was a little tough and felt very odd. I already was
very much into decoration and styling. But without any like-minded youngsters or fancy furnishing stuff around.
Then I moved back to Hamburg. For the first time I had access to an IKEA store. Wow! I had entered a new world.
Meanwhile you can order absolutely everything from absolutely everywhere just going online. Or do-it-yourself with
multiple choices on colour palettes, material options and tons of magazines, blogs, social media channels and
documentaries giving advice on a mixture of living and interior design, diy-challenges, fashion, beauty, food and recipes.
They have been popping up all around over the years like the burst of buds in spring. If Mary Poppins was able
to jump into a pavement drawing, then I am able to dive into such stylish sceneries. It is a great stimulation to me to
look at delicate furnished houses and apartments and to get to know the people who live there. It feels like falling
into a river and being carried away from the current. I cannot get away. It's amazing. I would like to rearrange my home
every week. Well, lets say, quite often. I am in trouble again. It started long ago with my first apartment in Hamburg,
where I was free to do whatever I wanted. I painted my kitchen in a dark blue, my bathroom in a very bright pink and my
corridor in orange. Colour blocking at the beginning of the nineties. At least I now know, I’m not alone with my passion.
Fabulous Fashion
Does anyone remember a woman called Antonia Hilke? She was a German fashion journaliste located in Hamburg with a
TV show called ‘Neues vom Kleidermarkt’ and my style guide and hero at the time I was about to become a young woman.
Germanys kind of Anna Wintour long before the mighty fashion business went global. I loved to watch her reporting about
French, Italian and Japanese couture and talking about the Pret-a-Porter shows two times a year in a savvy, humorous and
sophisticated manner, while skillfully sketching new trends with enormous proficiency and rapidness.
My first encounter with excellent style had been in Africa years before. By my most appealing teacher in primary school – an
Ines de la Fressange typ of woman with a wardrobe far too glamorous for this kind of job and vicinity. Once my teacher showed
up for the annual school performance. She was wearing a breathtaking flowing evening gown made from an expensive looking
bright yellow organza fabric. Awesome! Think about Angelina Jolie going to the Oscars. I thought my teacher with Italian
ancestors then was the most adorable woman on earth. Until I was introduced to the catwalks in Paris by Antonia Hilke. How
exciting to watch so much beauty and perfection – both the people and the clothes. I was captivated.
As time goes by, habits change due to splendid technology. As a fashion student in the 90ies I travelled to Paris to visit
the trend making spots like 'Premiere Vision'. No need for that really any more since keeping track of new styles, fabulous
fashion and design, interior, architecture and trends from all around the world works online. On top of that my dream came
true with Pinterest, giving me the chance to collect shoes. Hundreds and thousands of shoes. I love shoes. And there
you don't even need money to buy or space to store them.
The necessity of good shoes
Except for the flip flops, I hardly remember what kind of shoes I had been wearing in Africa. Until I attended a catholic convent
school during our residence in Sambia. I had to dress a school uniform with a simple pale blue dress that required a pair of
rigid and stiff black shoes. Nothing spectacular followed until a couple of years later on I spent a holiday in Malcesine at the
Lago di Garda, Italy. It was my grandma who made my wishes come true. She bougth me a pair of beautiful sandals. Therefore,
at the age of twelve, inspired by a very romantic environment and the smoothness of a cosy warm summer day, I fell in love
with Italian shoes. The amount of leather could hardly justify the price. The colour was amazing. Something that I hadn’t come
up with ever since. At the end of the Seventies and beginning of the Eighties I only had access to shoes that were practical and
boring – black, brown, maybe blue. But this exciting new footwear was a mixture of pinkish mauve, very neatly designed and
assembled. Putting them on made me feel like being another person. From that moment on I knew no matter what you wear,
you have to have the rigth shoes. With my clothes I am very basic. A pair of jeans and a smart T-Shirt or pullover will do. About
shoes I am very picky – and will be, until death shall bring me back to my barefoot beginning.
Hello Taipei
My son was one year old, when our little family travelled to Taiwan. Not for holiday. But to join my husband spontaneously
on an extended business trip for a couple of months. At that time I had absolutely no idea, what I was going to expect. In
fact, nothing much did I know, as that Taiwan was located somewhere in Asia, known as the world leading producer of
various consumer goods. I immediately fell for this subtropical island, abundantly covered with vegetation and given fertile
plains to grow loads of delicious fruits. An island with a breathtaking landscape and mountain scenery. Already the Portuguese
fleet, discovering the island in 1544, had come up with an appropiate name: ‘Ilha Formosa’ – beautiful island. We stayed in the
capital of Taiwan. Taipei is located in the north of this plentiful and rich island. My ‘lonely planet’ travel guide described the city
as follows: “frenetic, fun, food-filled capital, loaded with museums, monuments and markets.” Just perfect! Because I love big busy
colourful cities and the idea, one might get lost, which never happens. Exploring every corner of such a metropolis day by day
and taking photos is one of my favourite pastime. With a one year old by my side it was kind of challenging, but very charming. I
wanted some adventure. The kid, well, gets hungry, tired, bored, wants to walk, run and play or needs a fresh diaper. To get
into a kind of flow, I tried to set up a well working arrangement. In the morning we stayed in our air-conditioned apartment
in Beitou with an extraordinary view over the mountains and had breakfast. After that: playtime, a short nap and lunch until
the armada of giggling and feisty roommates took over the apartment around twelve. This was my daily kick-off to leave for
our roundtrips. The metro station was just across the street and took us around town quiet conveniently. But sometimes I
just started to walk, pushing the stroller miles and miles across the city. In Taipei it's all about food. So if you like to eat, I mean
really eat and enjoy stuff you don’t know, Taipei is just the right place. I finally got back to my delicious bubble tea – black tea
with milk and tapioca pearls. I had discovered this drink in New York and San Francisco some years before and had fancied
it very much. You can get food everywhere. There are countless splendid restaurants all around and foodcourts in every
basement of the fantastic luxury shopping malls in town. One of the big tourist attractions are the night markets. But eating
and selling food seemed to take place on every corner of the streets. To understand the stunning diversity of this island
state, I read about some historical facts. Taiwan had been under the occupation of the Portuguese, the Dutch, the Spanish,
the Japanese and the Chinese, each for a long period of time. Still mainland China is a big harassment to a not yet legalized
and accredited status of independency. Though being under this constant threat, Taiwan grew an enormous economically
power after the Second World War. Together with the aborigin minority of the island all the intruders, fugitives and immigrants
brought different cultural influences, leaving their mark whatsoever. Today this not always bright past has created a beaming
presence. Taipei has developed a fascinating mixture of tradition and modernism. I had wondered, how it would be there
with a toddler by my side. Nothing to worry about. People were so friendly. I felt very save on my own. Our blond-haired son
was like a little superstar from the very beginning with his charismatic laugh, his big smile and his dauntless curiosity. Coming
from a culture, where young mothers with little children sometimes tended to get a bit of a burden in public, this amount of
affirmative attention blew my mind. Not only from the elder people. Amazingly a lot of teenagers got really excited and
approached our son with so much elation, you never would expect from the kids at home. On the weekends we went on
a joint excursion to the seaside, the Yangmingshan National Park and other scenic attractions around Taipei, which we
could visit by car. Unfortunately we didn’t travel the whole huge island to visit the marble cliffs of Taroko Gorge, or the Sun
Moon Lake or Tainan, Taiwans former capital. Instead we decided to visit Hongkong, which was just as overwhelmingly
gorgeous. Once you stay in a fancy hotel like the Sheraton with the most spectacular view across the water towards
Victoria harbour and Victoria Peak, you do get spoilt for the rest of your life.
In New York...
...can you hear the music? Everything is big!
2001 to 2003
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