Julia Bachleitner
  • It seemed like a miracle that I had made it this far at all. And that my desolate feet had carried me this far. At the top is the Sillianer Hütte, where I spent two nights. In the photo it seems just as unreachable as it had been for me for a long time.

  • Während der Wanderung habe ich ein paar mal an das gleichnamige Lied von Reinhard Fendrich gedacht. Die Freiheit da oben ist wirklich grenzenlos. Alle waren wir fasziniert von dem Ausblick. Die Wirtin der Sillianer Hütte hat ihn jeden Tag vor der Tür und die anderen Gäste wollten ihn vermutlich auch mit Heim nehmen.

  • I so often had the feeling that everyone else was passing me by. And I was not able to keep up. They all found a way for themselves. But mine has so often remained invisible.

  • Sometimes something seems far away and totally out of reach. Much faster and better equipped. And disappears behind my horizon. Nevertheless, I want to go there and see what happens next. So first learn to swim? Or is there a way around it?

  • Early in the morning, before dawn on the highest mountain, the shepherd is already driving his sheep to the next pasture. They are all not so easily recognisable in the photo and very soon disappear in the mist. Like so many things in my past.

  • And then, all of a sudden, there it is, the sun. And illuminates everything wonderfully. Nothing seems threatening any more. And there is no longer any reason to be afraid.

  • At some point you recognise the path that lies ahead of you very well. And it appears very beautiful. But something unexpected can always happen. Even something good sometimes comes unexpectedly. Like the pink hut in the first picture. It would also be visible here if one of the mountains didn't block the view.

  • Up there in the mountains I could learn to take one step at a time towards the next goal. And in the meantime, to concentrate on the beauty that is right in front of me.

Project description

The idea for the trip was to find a way to cope with the newly diagnosed attention deficit and its often still unknown effects. So I disappeared for a few days into the East Tyrolean Alps with my favourite camera to look for photographs that illustrate my feelings. They say a picture is worth a thousand words - and I have always found pictures to be a suitable means of expression. All the hikers I met there seemed very impressed and speechless about my story - but the greatest speechlessness concerns myself.
For 4 days, I shot 775 photographs just like that without thinking much. There I was often caught up in my perfectionism, which served to compensate for the strange defectiveness of my brain. In the following week, I gradually selected 8 photographs from it, which show very impressively how I am and what I have learned - so I can overcome my speechlessness. I no longer wish to have to think about what used to be or to be worried about what others must have thought.


Inge-Morath-Platz 1-3
5020 Salzburg
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