East Berlin was dominated by punk and new wave in the early 80s. At least for us, the so-called ‘bohemians of Prenzlauer Berg’, residents of the local scene of creative young people who took part in the refusal of dictatorship in particular. My camera became a stylistic device in my – in our – attitudes towards life. I think that is something which has remained the same, even today

There are a few fundamentals in my photography. I still work almost completely analogue, always with daylight, my priority being black and white (but not only), and I never simply walk through the town with my camera, searching for the right motive or moment. I have walked around Berlin a lot, looking for places, lighting, and inspiration. But my camera isn’t there. Sometimes I make notes and take a few photos on my iPhone as an outline.

After the wall fell, East Berlin was almost anarchistic. Companies just didn’t exist anymore. I’d been shooting for Sibylle, an East German fashion magazine, but that kind of work really dried up. At the same time, though, almost anything was possible. You could break into empty apartment buildings or empty warehouses and just do what you wanted: install a makeshift bar, open up a club, celebrate and party until dawn. It was this phenomenal, fascinating, vibrant feeling. I was completely sucked into it.

Berlin was on the way to becoming a metropolis. This lockdown was a hopefully temporary emergency stop for all of us to reflect on that. I had started to film daily recurring rituals in short videos with my iPhone: the ticking of the clock, flowers that fade, candles that burn down, the full moon in the night sky, as well as taking photos. Time documents beauty and decay in a real way, but the situation on Berlin’s streets was surreal at the same time. We are now returning to a bit of normalcy. But the changes in this city will linger with me over the decades.

I have always studied people. Maybe that’s the connection between working by the door and as a photographer.