Montauk, May 4, 1981
My hair is permeated by the sea breeze and topped with sand dust. Nacre in my eyes, I am moving along the sea, touching the gentle beach. Left alone in a moment of biggest vulnerability. Like a marine animal, which was forcibly snatched from the sheltering lap of luscious, mother-of-pearl-lined shell, I seek shelter in the dunes. Whipped up by the hardness of the force of nature, I am expelled again and seek protection in me, in my inner world. I am bringing a sacrifice to the night to make her change her mind, to drive away fearful images, while I am finding sleep. (From my diary).
8 seconds
All self-portraits have all been made with the self-timer of my SLR photo camera. This was a special challenge because between the pushing of the trigger and the release of the shutter there were only eight seconds left to slip into the role of the model and taking a pose, which means that there was always also some random moment.
Back in times without autofocus, the sharpness of the images (i.e., to find myself on the focal plane) was more or less a matter of luck. Even an immediate inspection was not possible and the success could only be judged hours later after the (manual) development of the films.
