Some paintings don’t just come from memory —
they arrive like messages.
Carried on the wind of a dream.

I stood on a hilltop.
Wrapped in silence, held in light.
Not the blinding kind,
but a soft, golden sphere —
gentle, warm, true.

And the message was so simple, so quiet I could have missed it:
…

No milestones.
No noise.
Just light drifting across the floor,
a brush dipped in colour,
a poem whispering from an old page.

Days between silence, colours and pages.
Where stillness feels like an answer.
Where the small things shimmer with truth.

I’ve stopped searching for love
in faraway places…

When you finally step
into the currents
of your own river,
everything flows.

The rapids and undercurrents
have tumbled me,
like a rolling stone
washed smooth by the riverbed…

With every step on this wild, sacred earth,
something lost is remembered.
Something quiet begins to speak…

There are evenings that don’t just end the day —
they open something.

We had come down from the mountain hut,
our cheeks warm from laughter,
the air still heavy with the scent of rain.
And then —
the sky began to glow.

Not just golden or pink.
But everything.
A riot of color, as if the horizon had caught fire
and the world had decided to blush.

Rainbows appeared where you didn’t expect them.
Light bent and played along the ridges.
And we stood there — somewhere between silence and song…

What the Wilderness Taught Me

There are moments that change you — not all at once, but slowly, cell by cell. As if the earth itself were reshaping you in its quiet, ancient rhythm.

There are moments in life when we remember what it means to belong. To the world. To the wild. To ourselves.

Out there, in the silence of the Highlands, something shifted. I was reminded that we are not here to master nature…

A story from the Highlands

There are mornings that feel like a return.
Like the world was holding its breath just for you —
until you were ready to come back.

This was one of those mornings.
I had spent the previous months walking through shadows.
Inner winters, silent reckonings.
But something had begun to shift. Softly, steadily.
And then — this journey. This light…

Sometimes you have to paint over something you thought you loved.
Sometimes you need to let go of what looks beautiful —
because deep down, it doesn’t feel right.

And that’s hard.
But it’s also where the magic starts.

I’ve been working on a canvas I started years ago…

The story behind the painting…

It started with a party. A birthday celebration in Innsbruck that turned into a sleepless night that turned into five days of laughter, deep talks, dumb jokes, mountain sunsets, and the kind of memories that make your heart grin.

I had followed a nudge. An inner yes. Nothing planned, nothing certain. Just a feeling. And somehow, it led me exactly where I needed to be.

I lost my heart in the highlands - or: how Iost reception for a few days and found myself again.

This is where Something Luminous started.

Not with a plan, but with a pause.
No reception. No deadlines.
Just the quiet rhythm of rain against the window
and hills that seemed to breathe…