Thank you Berlin 🌹
We had a wonderful time yesterday at the premiere of Mother’s Child at the 75th edition of the Berlinale ✨
@berlinale_shorts@berlinale
#Berlinale #Berlinale2025 #BerlinaleShorts
Some of the styleframes I coloured and experimented with for an amazing animation in the making called "Mother's Child" by @whothefuckisnaomi / @cowboyofthescreenage
„Gluttony“
This drawing is part of the semester project „Food Sins“. We looked into different cultural stories and myths about gluttony and how it is represented nowadays.
Here are some of my illustrations from from a university project last year, where we translated fictional short stories by independent authors into visual narratives.
Our group worked on “Poolparty” by Phillip Winkler: A feverish night at a Mulholland Drive villa owned by a porn production company. An unnamed narrator drifts through the party on a volatile cocktail of substances, interrupting conversations, spiraling into strange trains of thought and hovering somewhere between delusions of grandeur, quiet melancholy and moments of cutting clarity.
As the night unravels, the party turns into a grotesque spectacle: performative influencers, fading excess, fragments of devastation. Everything ends with a craving for a fruity drink.
A distorted, hyperbolic satire of hedonism, spectacle and the hollow glamour of Los Angeles’ party culture.
Here are some of my Illustrations from a university project last year, where we translated fictional short stories by independent authors into visual narratives.
Our group worked on “Poolparty” by Phillip Winkler: A feverish night at a Mulholland Drive villa owned by a porn production company. An unnamed narrator drifts through the party on a volatile cocktail of substances, interrupting conversations, spiraling into strange trains of thought, and hovering somewhere between delusions of grandeur, quiet melancholy, and moments of cutting clarity.
As the night unravels, the party turns into a grotesque spectacle: performative influencers, fading excess, fragments of devastation. Everything ends with an almost desperate craving for a fruity drink.
A distorted, hyperbolic satire of hedonism, spectacle, and the hollow glamour of Los Angeles’ influencer party culture.
