Under the delicate dome of an old Schatz anniversary clock, time has been repurposed into a keepsake of waiting.
A small girl stands beneath a wooden darning mushroom — once a humble household tool, now a fairytale shelter. Beside her, a metal fallow deer, salvaged from the top of a wine bottle cork, stands poised as if listening for a sound that never comes.
Suspended between them, a speech bubble reads: „Was, Du kommst heute nicht“ (What, you’re not coming today?)
Time, in this miniature scene, seems to wait for someone who may never arrive.
The clock itself was once broken; I tried to fix it, but it refused to tick again. So I dismantled it — piece by piece — and laid every cog, spring, and screw in perfect order on a wooden board, like in Robert Doisneau’s famous photograph of Jacques Tati with the deconstructed bicycle.
