{"id":18148,"date":"2026-07-13T23:40:54","date_gmt":"2026-07-13T21:40:54","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/hohlweg.de\/?p=18148"},"modified":"2026-07-13T23:41:23","modified_gmt":"2026-07-13T21:41:23","slug":"juli-der-nabel-der-welt","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/hohlweg.de\/en\/juli-der-nabel-der-welt\/","title":{"rendered":"July \u2013 The Center of the World"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

A heart with wings in the sand<\/h2>\n\n
\"\"<\/figure>\n\n

I really hadn\u2019t expected to see a belly button piercing that day as I strolled through the Boberg Dunes in Hamburg, with no set destination and in no hurry\u2014a state I rarely manage to achieve in real life, but one that comes easily and naturally when I\u2019m hiking. I stop when something catches my eye, take a few steps back because I think I\u2019ve seen something out of the corner of my eye, and as a result, I usually end up moving much more slowly than I\u2019d planned. My attention almost automatically wanders to the ground, where there\u2019s always plenty to discover. <\/p>\n\n

Suddenly, something pink glinted among the grains of sand. At first I thought it was a piece of plastic\u2014unfortunately, there\u2019s plenty of that lying around everywhere\u2014but this sparkle was particularly intense. In my hand I finally held a small heart made of pink cubic zirconia, held in place by two little silver wings that had already turned dark. The sun, wind, and sand had clearly left their mark, but the pink still glowed with countless tiny reflections of light in the sun. <\/p>\n\n

\"Detail
Center of the World<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n

It\u2019s amazing what people lose\u2014and what oddities I end up taking home in return. The less I try, the more often these tiny little finds suddenly appear right at my feet. While I think I\u2019m developing my art, it has long since been shaping my view of the world as well. <\/p>\n\n

Whenever I come across finds like these, I often wonder when a personal treasure actually stops being a treasure. When does an object stop being missed by anyone and simply become part of the landscape? I\u2019ll never know, because found objects never reveal their full story. They tell just enough to spark my imagination, leaving me to piece the rest together. For me, that\u2019s exactly where their true magic lies. <\/p>\n\n

The little heart came home with me and ended up on my desk, right in the middle of seed pods, dried-up plant remains, bizarre little pieces of wood, and all the other things that had at some point fallen out of their original context. I picked it up, set it aside, and gazed at the pink shimmer between the dark silver wings\u2014and at some point, it dawned on me what I\u2019d actually found: a belly button piercing. And with it, quite unexpectedly, came the title of my new work. <\/p>\n\n

The center of the world.<\/p>\n\n

That thought has been on my mind throughout July.<\/p>\n\n

Midsummer<\/h2>\n\n

July also feels like the middle of a long breath. Behind me lie the first six months of the year, with all their hopes, detours, and little surprises. Ahead of me lie another six months, about which I don\u2019t yet know much, and in between, this summer stretches out, as if it wanted to be everything at once and in its entirety for just a brief moment. During these weeks, I\u2019d prefer neither to look back nor to think ahead, but simply to stay right where I am. Let\u2019s see how that goes. <\/p>\n\n

The sun bathes meadows, forests, and fields in the warm yellow I\u2019ve chosen for this month. A few days ago, I was out riding my bike when the golden hour began. For just a few moments, the sun broke through the clouds and lit up the wild meadow as if someone had poured gold over it. A brief, almost surreal moment that vanished just as quickly as it had appeared. I\u2019m glad I was able to pull my phone out of my pocket just in time to capture this snapshot. <\/p>\n\n

\"A<\/figure>\n\n

This light makes even ordinary things shine. I probably would never have spotted that little pink heart without this sunlight. <\/p>\n\n

However, yellow isn\u2019t just about cozy warmth. It\u2019s also the color of lightning: the same force that bathes summer evenings in gold may, moments later, unleash itself in a thunderstorm. One moment everything seems perfectly calm, and the next, a wall of dark clouds is already pushing in front of the sun. <\/p>\n\n

\"Detail<\/figure>\n\n

In July, summer heat and rain, new beginnings and goodbyes are often so close together that you can barely make it to dry ground in time. I find this month particularly rich precisely because it doesn\u2019t allow for clear-cut decisions. On the contrary: the rain after a heat wave is a real blessing\u2014July invites me to enjoy both. <\/p>\n\n

Abundance or Zero Point?<\/h2>\n\n
\"An<\/figure>\n\n

In July, summer heat and rain, new beginnings and goodbyes are often so close together that you can barely make it to dry ground in time. I find this month particularly rich precisely because it doesn\u2019t allow for clear-cut decisions. On the contrary: the rain after a heat wave is a real blessing\u2014July invites me to enjoy both. <\/p>\n\n

This certainly isn’t limited to summer: the busier life gets, the closer everything feels. Memories surface\u2014some pleasant, some not so pleasant\u2014while at the same time, new things begin. Some pleasant, some not so pleasant. Some opportunities open up at the very moment when others disappear for good. <\/p>\n\n

Everything seems to be reaching its peak all at once.<\/p>\n\n

In July, I don’t even need to try to resolve these contradictions. I’ll just have to put up with them\u2014and that, for me, is the true serenity I’d like to continue cultivating. <\/p>\n\n

\"Detail
Center of the World<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\n

At the same time, my thoughts continue to revolve around the center of the world.<\/p>\n\n

A belly button tells the story of our central origin, of a connection that was severed long ago yet remains visible. Presumably, we all search at some point for such a center\u2014a place where everything can be explained and where everything feels good and right. <\/p>\n\n

But what exactly is this much-talked-about center we\u2019re all searching for? Is the navel of the world the place of greatest abundance, or is it exactly the opposite\u2014a zero point? The longer I think about it, the more similar both possibilities seem to me. A zero point is, at first, absolute nothingness. But at the same time, it already contains every conceivable direction within itself\u2014from the zero point, a circle can unfold, a wave, a thought, an entire life. Abundance may well begin at the very moment when everything seems to have vanished, long before anything new becomes visible and tangible. <\/p>\n\n

July feels very much the same to me. The vegetation displays its full spectrum of colors. A wide variety of flowers compete to fill the air with their scents\u2014and in doing so, they already herald the coming change: The meadows are a lush green, while the first blades of grass have long since begun to dry out. Everything grows and fades away in these weeks almost in the same breath, and for me, those two things are inextricably linked. <\/p>\n\n

Feather Symbol \u2013 The Center of the World<\/h2>\n\n
\"\"<\/figure>\n\n

And so, once again, a small found object gave rise to a new work titled \u201cNavel of the World\u201d from the \u201cFeather Signs\u201d series. As is so often the case, it is not a single material that tells the whole story, but rather their interplay: grasses form the landscape, a rose thorn became a thornbird, the yellow parakeet feather brushes the edge of the picture like a ray of sunlight, and an alder cone gave rise to a real wren. Joining them are poppy capsules, fluttering elm seeds, birch seed leaves, pea tendrils, wrapping paper, a ceramic cigarette filter, a small tag marked \u201cNo. 49,\u201d and other plant remnants that found their way to me along the way. And, more on the sidelines, the little winged heart\u2014a fragment of a lost belly-button piercing. Although it lends its name to this work, it is no more or less important to this scene than all the other tiniest of details. <\/p>\n\n

Whether it\u2019s a thorn left over from the last time I pruned a rose or a fragment of someone else\u2019s belly button jewelry\u2014to me, these are the materials that speak of eternity and meaning without ever having been carved in stone. My tools are the little notes on the margins of everyday life that we usually overlook\u2014and that is precisely why I collect them with such enthusiasm. <\/p>\n\n

Sometimes a single discovery is really all it takes to set a thought in motion. Everything else gradually gathers around it, as if it had always belonged there. Presumably, the center of the world lies precisely wherever something is just beginning to take on meaning\u2014no matter for whom or what. <\/p>\n\n

I’m very curious to hear what stories you’ll discover in this scene, and I look forward to your accounts.<\/p>\n\n

Summer Greetings from the Studio<\/p>\n\n

Magdalena Hohlweg<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

A heart with wings in the sand I really hadn\u2019t expected to see a belly button piercing that day as I strolled through the Boberg Dunes in Hamburg, with no set destination and in no hurry\u2014a state I rarely manage to achieve in real life, but one that comes easily and naturally when I\u2019m hiking. […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":5,"featured_media":18149,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[360],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-18148","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-collage-en"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/hohlweg.de\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/18148","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/hohlweg.de\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/hohlweg.de\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/hohlweg.de\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/5"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/hohlweg.de\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=18148"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/hohlweg.de\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/18148\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":18152,"href":"https:\/\/hohlweg.de\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/18148\/revisions\/18152"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/hohlweg.de\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/18149"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/hohlweg.de\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=18148"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/hohlweg.de\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=18148"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/hohlweg.de\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=18148"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}