The train travels slowly. My eyes glimpse through the windows. Long time ago. 1981. I am calm. Alone in the cabin. A magazine on the seat opposite me. Grey the day. Long the journey. On the front page a photograph of the Matterhorn. Reflection in a lake.
As usual. Typically Swiss. Here the mountain lays. On the bench. Twisted somehow. Outside it is raining. Sunshine only on the front cover. Reflection on the lake. Everything coated in blue.


The photograph features a face. Suddenly it appeared. Not only one. Masks, grimaces. I am excited. Seeing mountain faces looking into the universe. What do they see? Who will see them? How many faces has the earth? The magazin in my hand. The reflection. Another face. It looks inside earth.

Viewing the outside – with an inside glance

A name. Double face. Never seen before. Horizon splitting the photograph. Vertically. I see the earth. As well as a doorway to silence. Into infinity.

Thunderstorm of thoughts. Realisation. Peace.

Two sides of a coin or more? If you dare to see them. Move. Decision. To paint that photograph. In the pink of my ability. Huge. Patiently. My last work. Reality. A new sight. Unknown. Powerful. New. My last naturalistic painting. Then off I go to new shores. New perceptions. A leg on the way. Painted more than thirty years ago. Here it is now.

The painting. The Double Face.