About flying diamonds, chocolate wrappers, and a spoon coat of arms from Ulm

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June has the floor. Outside, the air is buzzing and humming again—in the hedges, the meadows, and through the warm air—that delicate, humming orchestra of tiny creatures that delights me anew every summer.

I know not everyone shares my enthusiasm. But anyone who’s already inwardly cried out, “Eww!” can relax: my beetles are all staying right where they are. They sit behind glass—not because we need to be wary of them, but because they, on the contrary, need protection from us, from the rigors of everyday life, from the careless hand that, with the best of intentions, is quick to move things too much.

If you look closely, you’ll discover all sorts of shiny little beetles and crawling gems with delicate little legs. I have to admit: these jewels of nature have me raving all over again—and I can’t help but sing their praises over and over, down to the very last crumb. I hope I can inspire you so much that this little scene will draw you in just as moths are drawn to the light.

So, let’s start from the beginning

What was on the table

Twig of dogwood. Fruits from the peony. Heather blossoms, a lime blossom, tomato green. Rose buds, very small. Chocolate paper – the shiny one that you actually throw away, but which, how could it be otherwise, I couldn’t throw away. Electronic resistors whose wires I twisted into snails. And lo and behold: the tiny splinter of a Christmas bauble, which only now drew attention to itself with its silvery sheen on my work table.

That was the material. So far, so unsuspicious.

What became of it

Beetles emerged from the chocolate paper – with antennae made of electronic resistance wires, which now radiate dignity like horned rams. Some beetles have the body of a tiny rosebud. Others owe their shape to the fruits of the peony. Anything else? Oh, yes – the smallest beetles are made from heather flowers.

The Habitat

Twigs of dogwood entwine the whole scene in sweeping curves – an airy home that is both frame and wilderness. Tomato green has settled like an evergreen star, landing on the edge of the delicate structure. A lime blossom still plays along. And a few other plant remnants that want to remain incognito – not everything here has to be determined down to the last detail, and I respect that.

In short: Unless you look closely, there’s really nothing else of note here.

The Weight of Things

And then there’s the spoon coat of arms from Ulm.

A modest enamel artifact that lends weight to the entire scene. It is more than just a casual reference to a location. Rather, it is a clue. An answer to a question that urgently needs to be asked.

So if someone asks you , ” Tell me where the bugs are!“

Now you know the answer:

In Ulm, around Ulm, and all over Ulm!

These spoon crests inspired me to create a new series—and I’m convinced that art on such a small scale has a higher purpose than just hanging in a souvenir shop. Since then, various coats of arms from different hiking regions have appeared in my works, carrying with them their entire origin—the place, the outing, the moment of discovery.

Speaking of hiking: That’s the key word. The new series is called Wandertage —and I invite you to let your gaze and thoughts wander through the assemblages right along with me. My own journey through this series has only just begun. Further stops, or works, will follow. I’m curious myself to see where this path will lead me. Thank you for joining me for a while.

P.S.: One more thing I really want to recommend: a novel about friendship, adventure, and a golden beetle

For those who have now acquired a taste for Käfer, I recommend a book that I read with absolute enthusiasm—and which I’m mentioning for no other reason than this: it gripped me and wouldn’t let go.

*Miss Benson’s Beetle* by Rachel Joyce —published in German as *Miss Bensons Reise* —tells the story of two very different women who set out from 1950s London: into the world, and at the same time deep into their own lives. An unusual friendship, an adventurous journey—and right in the middle of it all, a magical figure: a golden beetle, shrouded in legend and as elusive as the Holy Grail. I’d rather not reveal any more—it’s best to order it in person at your favorite bookstore.