Inner Icons
Somebody was your hero once.
A person. A character on a lunchbox. A poster on your wall. Something that made you believe in courage before you had a word for it.
This series is about those figures. The ones we held onto as kids, not because we understood them, but because they made something in us feel possible. Powerful. Brave.
Each painting looks at a child holding onto that belief, somewhere between the safety they know and the strength they’re starting to feel is theirs too.
Inner Icons isn’t about the heroes themselves. It’s about what they leave behind in us, long after we stop playing pretend.
Someone’s hero
She’s holding onto her Spiderman doll like it’s proof that ordinary people can do impossible things.
Looking back over her shoulder, one hand still holding someone behind her. Not ready to let go of that safety yet. But already starting to believe she has her own kind of strength too.
I think we all had something like this once. A figure that made us believe, long before we understood what we were believing in. Who’s your superhero?
We used to know
Sarah’s new Series. “We used to know” is a series about a girl on a journey. A journey through herself.
She carries dreams she knows are worth protecting. Because the world is loud and fast and takes a lot without asking.
The series reminds of lightness. Of trust. Of knowing, the way kids know, that things can work out.
“We used to know” is an invitation to stop for a moment and ask: what did I leave behind along the way? And what do I actually want back?
Who says I can’t? (SOLD)
When I was a kid, I had a dream. A big one. And somewhere along the way, the world got loud. Too loud. And the dream got quiet. I think a lot of us know that feeling. This piece came from a moment where I decided to stop listening to the noise. A little girl, an astronaut suit, and one question painted across the canvas: who says I can’t? She’s looking right at you. She’s not asking for permission. She’s just asking: do you still remember yours?
Encore une fois, Papa!
I think a lot of us had a dream that felt bigger than us when we were kids. Before we learned what was realistic. Before we learned how many reasons there are not to try.
This painting brought me back to those memories.
The girl wears a pilot helmet because she wants to fly. Every day she climbs the same hill and imagines herself soaring above the world. And every time someone spins her around until they can’t anymore, she gets a tiny glimpse of that feeling.
To the adult, it’s probably just a game.To her, it’s proof that maybe one day she really can.
As I painted this piece, I kept thinking about how powerful that is. The people who encouraged us often didn’t give us success. They gave us belief.
And sometimes belief is what changes everything.
You need it more than I do (SOLD)
Kids feel more than we think. We try to protect them, and that’s right. But there’s a moment, when they’re old enough, where pretending doesn’t help anyone anymore. This girl knows something is heavy. And instead of turning away, she holds out her superwoman doll. Quietly. Without making it a big thing. Not because she should carry his weight. But because she’s choosing to, with all the love in her small chest. That’s the moment I wanted to paint.
„Papa, écoute-moi“
People who are quiet often carry the greatest thoughts within them. And in this fast, loud world, we sometimes overlook that. When did you last truly listen?
The deepest ones fly the furthest.
Diving feels like flying. Every time. All weight gone. Everything still. And then comes the curiosity. To discover things that are barely reachable. Kids have that so unfiltered. Maybe they help us learn to fly again.
I see something you don't see
A reminder to believe in flying again. She sits on his shoulders, her hands over his eyes. Not to take away his sight but to give him a different one. She still believes. In flying. In possibilities. In paths you don't always understand right away. While we grown-ups calculate and doubt, she simply lifts off. Maybe we don't always need to see more. Maybe we need to learn to see differently again. With the heart. With trust. With that childlike courage that says: Come, let me show you something.
Papa, can we trust? (SOLD)
As a child, you simply trust. No doubt. No questions. No fear. You hold your father's hand and believe the world is good. That people are honest. That promises mean what they say. Then you grow older. And suddenly trust is no longer a given. It becomes a decision. A risk. A weight. This image holds that moment. She still holds his hand. The kite still flies. But the question will come.
The chance.
Time in a bottle
Time in a Bottle explores the invisible worlds we carry within us. Each bottle becomes a quiet universe where memories, dreams, fears, and hope exist side by side. Transparent yet out of reach, these fragile vessels blur the line between protection and confinement. The series reflects on the child within us. The part that continues to dream, longs for freedom, and holds on to a sense of wonder, even when life teaches us to let go.
Liberty to dream
A young girl sits inside a large glass bottle, holding a paper kite. Around her, the glass feels soft, almost weightless. She is not trapped. She is being held.
This work is about the spaces we create when everything becomes too much. A room. A routine. A person. A way of thinking. Something we build because we need it—and because, for a while, it keeps us safe.
The girl inside the bottle represents that space. Secure, protected, quietly holding on to her dreams. The kite in her hands has not yet reached the sky. It waits with her.
To me, a safe place is more than a hiding place. It is where we keep our dreams alive until we are ready to let them fly.
This is the first work in a series about the spaces that hold us—and the moment we finally find the courage to open the door.
We would talk
There are moments when everything sits inside you. Words, thoughts, feelings — ready. You know exactly what you would say. How it would sound. What it would mean.
But you stay silent.
Not because you have nothing to say. But because you know no one is really listening.
I want to talk. (SOLD)
Wanna talk? (SOLD)
Hannah (SOLD)
Jimmy
In their eyes.
Some encounters change you without you realising it at first. A glance. A quiet moment side by side. An instant that burns itself into you and never lets go.
“In their eyes” is a series about people I met along the way. In places all over the world I never expected to find myself. Somewhere between arriving and not yet knowing where to go next.
Different countries. Different languages. Different lives. And yet the same thing in every face — a story that deserves to be seen.
Lucas
Daniel (SOLD)
Tucan
Pedro
Yvens
Daniel
Jeremy
Fatima
George (SOLD)
Selbstportrait
Kids of Santa Marta
Broken
Jungle Girl
Layers (SOLD)
Fall.
Everyone falls. At some point. In some way.
The moment when the ground disappears beneath you. When you no longer know which way is up. When you simply fall — and there is nothing you can do about it.
This series is not an image of failure. It is an image of the journey.
Fall
Schallrückblick
She
The Walk with them (SOLD)
Landscape 1.0.
In their world
Ghana
Between two worlds
Ghana 2
The fog (SOLD)
My Forest (SOLD)
Citywalk
Dark Rush (SOLD)
Animals 1.0.
Fly (SOLD)
He's flying.
