Carlos Albert Reck

Wandering through the world, I find my rhythm in the snap of a shutter, my anchor in the flash of a frame. Each shot’s a breath held tight, a heartbeat caught mid-thump—a piece of stillness ripped from the rush of time. To most, it’s a memory locked up, but to me, it’s a low hum, a quiet talk between the watcher and the watched. From deserts that stretch like quiet dreams to cities that throb with life, I’m not just moving—I’m hunting, chasing down the spirit of places, grabbing hold of light, shadow, and everything in between. In this dance of pixels and ghosts, I find my beat, my truth, my place of peace.

Some classes here, a few courses there, but mostly—time. Endless hours poured into the hunt, chasing light, framing shadows, trying to catch something real in the gaps. Can you really educate for art? I don’t know. They teach technique, hand you tools, but art—it’s born in the grind, the mistakes, the moments between. It’s something you don’t just learn; you have to live it, breathe it, let it sink into your bones. Education lays down the map, sure, but the journey—that’s yours. You don’t just walk it; you carve it out of the raw, chaotic stuff of life.

Public Artists Vienna 2022
pHMuseum Bologna 2019