Many people find your project very appealing and valuable, but at the same time they express that it is unexpectedly difficult for them to write a story from a child's perspective because they feel unsure how to find this approach.

🌿 My point of view

Many people tell me that they find it difficult to write a story from a child's perspective. And I can understand that well.

We are used to looking at the world from the point of view of adults: structured, explanatory, evaluative, often also responsible in the sense of "What is right?".

A child's perspective demands something different. It requires leaving the usual view and engaging in a simpler, more direct approach.

And that's exactly where the challenge lies.

But maybe that's the key.

Because a child does not try to understand the world completely. A child experiences them.

It perceives, asks questions, feels – without having to immediately classify.

We were all children once, we wrote stories, imagined worlds, saw things that we often overlook today.

The fact that we as adults find it difficult to find this access again is not an obstacle to the project – it is part of it.

The project requires exactly this step: back to a simple look, back to a feeling, back to a state in which not everything needs to be explained.

A story doesn't have to be perfect. It doesn't have to be complete. Sometimes a small scene, a moment, a thought is enough.

Maybe it just starts like this:

I'm nine years old. And that's my world.

And from there everything else arises.
 

Some experts from the climate and political scene point out that the climate discussion today is already characterized by very strong narratives that fluctuate between negative, burdensome images of the future and overly optimistic, sometimes unrealistic visions, and that it could be a challenge to find a credible balance between emotion and reality. 

🌿 My point of view

I myself experience that the climate discussion today is strongly influenced by fixed narratives. On the one hand, there are very stressful, gloomy images of the future that create fear. On the other hand, positive visions are increasingly emerging that are supposed to give hope – but which sometimes feel unrealistic or not honest enough.

Reality moves between these two poles.

In my art project, I don't try to consciously create or define this balance. I also don't try to describe the "right" future.

I open a space in which all these possibilities are allowed to exist at the same time.

A story can be hopeful. Another can be severe or unsettling. Some will be contradictory. Others may even be unrealistic.

And that's exactly what isn't a problem for me – it's the core.

Because today we know a lot about our reality, and science describes it precisely. Politicians are trying to shape them.

What is often missing is the space in which it is allowed to examine what this future might feel like.

Feeling does not follow any logic of Ausgewogenheit.Es is not obliged to be realistic or balanced.

As an artist, I don't deal with the question of whether a future is correct or plausible. I deal with the question:

What happens when we feel them?

If tension arises from this – between hope and fear, between desire and reality – then for me that is not a contradiction, but an expression of truth.

Concerns are expressed that stories from a child's perspective could simplify complex reality and thus risk appearing too reduced or not sufficiently differentiated, especially in an environment that is heavily influenced by data, analysis and scientific rigor.

🌿 My point of view

The concern is expressed that a child's perspective oversimplifies the complex reality. And yes – that's true.

A child's perspective simplified.

But this simplification is not a loss, it is a conscious decision.

In a world that is increasingly characterized by data, analysis and scientific precision, we have become very good at describing reality. We differentiate, evaluate, model and try to master complexity.

What is often lost in the process is the ability to experience this reality directly.

A child's perspective does not reduce the truth – it changes access.

A child does not ask: Is this completely correct?
It asks: Why is that so?
How does that feel?

It sees connections differently, often more directly and sometimes more uncomfortable.

As an artist, I deliberately choose this perspective because it does not dissolve complexity, but makes it visible in a different way. Simplification often creates clarity.

A simple question can be sharper than a complex model.

If a story seems reduced, it is not necessarily a defect, but a condensation.And in this condensation, something can emerge that touches us more deeply than any differentiated analysis.

My project is not about fully depicting reality. It's about opening up access that works differently.

Not by accuracy — but by feeling.

And perhaps it is precisely the simplified that carries a form of truth that is often overlooked in the complex.

Some feedback asks about the specific purpose of your project and wants to understand if it has some form of development, practical impact, or measurable outcome, or if it's more of an artistic and reflective space.

🌿 My point of view

Some people ask about the specific purpose of my project, and they want to understand whether it has a form of development, a practical impact or measurable results.

This question is understandable – and at the same time it shows the way we think.

In many areas of our society, we are used to the fact that a project must have a clear goal, a measurable result or a certain benefit.

My project follows a different logic.

It is not a project that develops solutions. It is not an instrument for political Steuerung.Es is not a scientific contribution with verifiable results.

It is an artistic space.

A space where people can deal with the future without having to achieve anything. Without explaining. Without convincing. Without measuring.

The purpose is not to create a specific effect. The purpose is to enable a state:

• Pause
• feel
• Introduce yourself
• to experience oneself in a possible future

Whether and how something will emerge from this remains open.

As an artist, I consciously accept this ignorance. I begin a work without knowing the result. It develops through the people who enter it, through their perception, their thoughts, and their feelings.

Maybe something will come out of it. Maybe it changes something. Maybe not.

But this openness is not a defect, it is an essential part of the project.

I don't open any space to achieve anything. I open a space in which something is allowed to emerge.

And that's exactly where its value lies for me.

Several people openly say that they do not see themselves as authors and therefore feel unsure whether they are suitable for participation, although they support the idea in principle.

🌿 My point of view

Many people tell me that they don't see themselves as authors. They are unsure whether they are even suitable for writing a story.

I can understand that well.

We have learned that writing is something you have to be able to "do". That it needs form, quality, maybe even talent.

In this project, something else applies.

It's not about being an author. It's not about writing well.

It's about allowing a moment.

A scene.A feeling.A thought.

Every human being carries experiences, images and ideas within him. Everyone has access to the future – even if it cannot be put into words immediately.

The fact that many are insecure is not a Hindernis.Es but rather shows how unusual it has become to express oneself without judgment.

There is no right and no wrong in this space. No literary quality that would have to be achieved. No expectation.

You don't have to be an author to tell a story. You just have to be willing to share a moment.

And maybe something starts right where you think you're not prepared.

Other voices argue that it might make sense not only to have adults write from the perspective of children, but also to involve real children in order to bring in an immediate and authentic view.

🌿 My point of view

The idea is put forward not only to let adults write from a child's perspective, but also to involve real children in order to enable an immediate and authentic view.

I find this thought very valuable.

Children have their own, immediate and unobstructed view of the world. Their voices are direct, honest and often surprisingly clear. When children speak themselves, an authenticity is created that cannot be replicated.

At the same time, my project follows a different approach in its current state.

I consciously invite adults to put themselves in the perspective of a child. Not to imitate children, but to take an inner step yourself.

This step is unusual for many. It requires leaving familiar ways of thinking and engaging in a simpler, more vulnerable perspective.

It is precisely this attempt that is part of the artistic process.

It's not just about letting children speak – it's about adults starting to see like children again.

The idea of involving real children does not contradict the project. Rather, it opens up a possible further level.

Perhaps this will lead to a future strand of the project – an extension in which both perspectives stand side by side:

1. Children who speak from their experiences today
2. and adults who put themselves in the shoes of a future childhood

For the moment, I consciously hold the space I have opened.

A space that is allowed to develop. And which perhaps grows precisely through such impulses.

Another point concerns the question of whether the focus on future stories makes sense or whether it is not more important to address the current problems of children in the present.

🌿 My point of view

The question is asked whether it makes sense to concentrate on future stories or whether we should not focus more on the current problems of children in the present.

This question is justified.

Because the reality is clear: Many children are already suffering from the consequences of inequality, environmental change and climate change.

However, my project is not directed against this reality – it complements it from a different perspective.

We talk a lot about what is happening today. We analyze problems, develop measures and try to improve the situation.

What is often missing is the question:

How will what we see and do today feel like in the future?

The future creates distance, and at the same time it creates closeness.

It allows us to think ahead about current developments – not as an analysis, but as experience.

A story from the future always carries the present within it. It does not begin in an abstract world, but in what we already see today.

The future is not an alternative to the present, it is its continuation.

That's why it's not a contradiction for me to talk about the future. It is a different approach to the same reality.

While the present describes what is, the future asks:

What does this mean for life?

It is precisely this shift that often creates a deeper approach – because we not only understand, but feel.

Some people find dealing with the future emotionally challenging because they feel that the future is already being shaped by today's actions and that this awareness can trigger an unpleasant feeling.

🌿 My point of view

Some people find dealing with the future emotionally challenging. They sense that the future is already being shaped by our actions today – and this awareness can trigger an unpleasant feeling.

I think this feeling is very important.

It shows that an inner contact is created. Not just an understanding, but a feeling.

Today we know a great deal about the state of our world, which science describes clearly and precisely. And yet this knowledge often remains on a cognitive level.

The moment we begin to understand the future as something that we ourselves help to shape – and in which others, especially children, will live – the perspective changes.

It's getting more personal. Closer.And often more uncomfortable.

This discomfort is not a Fehler.Es is an expression of responsibility.

My project doesn't try to dissolve or calm that feeling. It tries to give him a space.

A space in which this feeling is allowed to exist without being explained or evaluated.

The stories can be easy or hard. Hopeful or unsettling. Sometimes both at the same time.

If something feels uncomfortable, then that's also part of it.

Because maybe that's where an honest look at the future begins.

It is also recognized that your project deliberately does not provide for evaluation, commenting or clear author assignment, which is unusual for many because they are used to classifying, evaluating or discussing content.

🌿 My point of view

It is often perceived that my project deliberately refrains from evaluating, commenting and directly assigning authors. For many, this is unusual, because we are used to classifying, evaluating and discussing content.

This irritation is understandable.

We live in a world in which almost everything is judged: thought, written, published – and immediately commented on, evaluated and compared.

My project deliberately takes a different path.

I open up a space in which stories do not have to be explained, improved or classified. They are simply allowed to exist.

Without comment.Without rating.Without direct attribution.

Not because these things are unimportant, but because they influence the view.

The moment we evaluate a story or know its author, a classification begins: Is it good? Is it correct? Who wrote it? What is the intention behind it?

It is precisely this level that I would like to deliberately ignore.

A story is not supposed to be convincing in this room. Nor is it supposed to prove anything.

It should work.

Readers encounter the story directly – without filters, without context, without judgement.

• a feeling
• an inner image
• maybe even an irritation

Each story is given its own space, not as a product, but as an expression.

The authors are nevertheless made visible – but separately from the story itself. In this way, the connection remains without directing perception.

What seems unusual is part of the idea here:

A space in which something does not have to be classified, but can be experienced.

And it is precisely this openness that makes a different form of encounter possible.

Some feedback shows that my project is perceived as politically or at least socially relevant, even though I do not seek direct political influence.

🌿 My point of view

Some feedback perceives my project as politically or at least socially relevant, even if I myself do not seek direct political influence.

This perception does not surprise me.

The topic that the stories deal with – the environment, climate, the future and the reality of life for future generations – is inextricably linked to social and political issues. As soon as we talk about how people will live, we automatically enter a space that goes beyond the personal.

And yet my approach is different.

I don't see my project as a political contribution in the classic sense.I don't formulate demands.I don't develop programs.I don't try to influence decisions.

I open a room.

A space in which the future is not evaluated or controlled, but can be felt.

If people see something political in it, then this meaning does not come from an intention of mine, but from the issues themselves that we touch.

As an artist, I embrace this tension.

Art has always been a mirror of social reality: it can ask questions, irritate, touch and shift perspectives – without having to provide answers.

If my project is perceived as relevant or even provocative, then that's part of it.

Not because I create a political impact, but because I open up a space in which people confront themselves with questions that already exist.

I don't do politics, I create a space in which something is allowed to become visible.

And what emerges from this is not in my control – but in the perception of those who enter this space.

Some people feel resonant, but also reluctant, because the openness and openness of your project is unfamiliar and cannot immediately be classified into familiar categories.

🌿 My point of view

I perceive that my project resonates with many people – and at the same time a certain reluctance.

That doesn't surprise me.

The space I open is deliberately open and not clearly aligned with a goal. There is no defined task, no expected result, no clear category in which he can be placed.

For many, this is unusual.

We are used to understanding things quickly:What is it? What is it for? What should I do?

My project does not give any direct answers to this.

It invites without demanding. It opens without steering.

This openness can attract and unsettle at the same time.

The response shows that something is being touched. The restraint shows that this space is not immediately tangible.

And that's exactly where its quality lies.

Not everything that carries meaning can be immediately classified. Some things take time, have to unfold and may remain unclear at first.

I don't see this reluctance as resistance, but as part of a process.

A person steps to the edge of this room, looks into it, feels something – and decides for himself whether and when he takes a step into it.

This step is not done by request, but by inner willingness.

My project respects exactly that.

It doesn't force anyone in. It's waiting.

And perhaps it is precisely from this openness that another form of participation emerges – slower, more consciously and deeper.

Some people mentioned that this space feels similar to qualitative research methods. They see a connection in the way stories carry experiences, perspectives, and emotions.

🌿 My point of view

In the conversations around this project, I have noticed something I did not expect.

Some people have pointed out that this space has similarities to qualitative research.
That stories are a way in which experiences, perspectives, and emotions become visible.

I have been thinking about that.

Because that is not actually my approach.
I am not a researcher in that sense.
I do not analyse.
I do not draw conclusions.

And yet, something emerges here that touches what is often tried to be understood.

People begin to tell.
And in that telling, something becomes visible.

Perhaps that is where the connection lies.

Qualitative research tries to make experiences tangible.
It listens, collects, and structures.

My project takes a step to the side.

I do not structure.
I let things unfold.

I do not ask: What does this story mean?
I ask: What does it do to us?

Perhaps it is exactly in this difference that a new space appears.

A space between:

Understanding
and Feeling

Between:

Analysis
and Experience

I find this thought valuable.
Not because it explains my project,
but because it opens another perspective.

In a further exchange, in which diaries, photovoice, and storytelling were described as ways of accessing lived experience, this connection to qualitative research became more clearly visible.

🌿 My point of view

The work described through methods such as diaries, photovoice, and storytelling shows how deeply lived experiences can be captured. People describe what their city means to them, how their environment is changing, and how climate change is shaping their everyday lives and sense of place. These expressions become more than stories. They become data. They become evidence. They help to make loss and damage visible. And they contribute to informing decision-makers and shaping political responses.

I find this incredibly powerful. It strengthens our ability to understand the present and to act with responsibility.

The space of “Children’s Future Stories” builds on this —  but moves in a different direction. It does not begin with data. It does not begin with what is already happening. It begins with a question:

• What might it feel like to live in the future we are shaping today?

Instead of documenting reality,  it invites us to step into a possible future. The author — and the reader — enter this world consciously. They see it. They feel it. They experience it through the perspective of a child. This project does not aim to produce evidence. It aims to create awareness by engaging something deeper. Not the analytical mind — but the emotional and intuitive layer of perception. While storytelling in research helps translate lived experience into knowledge, this space explores how imagined future experiences can influence awareness. The starting point is not information. It is feeling. And from that feeling, a different kind of reflection may emerge.

Perhaps this is where the two approaches meet:

• One helps us understand what is happening. 
• The other invites us to reflect on what it might become.

And in that moment, a question appears:

• Could this future become real? 
• And how does what we do today influence that path?

The process begins not in the present — but from a future we are, for a moment, able to experience. And perhaps, through that experience, something begins to shift. 

Some people ask how this idea will be executed. They are looking for structure, clarity, and a defined process.

 🌿My point of view

I understand this question very well. It is the way we are used to thinking. We want to know how something will be built. What steps will follow? What the result will be?

This project does not begin with a plan.

I open a space.

A space for stories told from the perspective of a child living in the future.

Not to analyse climate change. Not to explain it. But to explore something we often overlook:

What does it feel like to live there?

There are no strict rules.

A story can be short or long. It can be simple. 
 

It often begins like this: “I am 10 years old. I live in a small village in the year 2100…”

A space exists between the lines. Between the future that is described and the present of the reader, a space emerges.

🌿 My point of view

A story from the future does not only work through what is written. It also works through what is not explained. Between the future that is described and the present of the reader, a space emerges. An in-between space. And in that space, something begins.

The story shows a moment. But it does not describe the path that leads to it. The steps are missing. The events. The developments. And this is where its particular power lies. I observe that readers begin to fill this gap themselves. With their own thoughts. With possible developments. With personal images of the future. In this moment, their role changes. The are no longer only reading. They begin to think further. They connect. They create. Perhaps this is where a second space emerges.

Not within the text, but within the reader. And perhaps this is the true power of these stories. Not to explain a future. 

But to open a space in which the future continues to unfold. The space is not only created by the story. It emerges between the future that is told and the present from which it is read. And that is where something begins. Quietly. Often unnoticed.