During a forest walk through the Harz National Park I thought about the photographer Ansel Adams. I thought of his pictures of the unspoilt and unexplored landscape of Western America. How free he must have felt with this sight of nature. Facing now, my eye sees a sick forest, more and more trees dying. Caused by a small pest, the bark beetle.
It is like an apocalyptic omen. A message from nowhere. Powerless to face an ever-increasing dead landscape, where once there was green diversity, as in many areas of this earth. At that moment the word "tree" got a new more important meaning for me.