hd video / 11:52 / language: german

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Accompanied by my childhood drawings in chronological order, I explain my conviction from early childhood that artist Joseph Beuys was my uncle, and that the two of us, even though he died long before I was born, acquainted with one another.

I retell the stories I was told by the only person who knew both Beuys and me: They are the stories of my father, who neither was an artist back in the heyday of the Fluxus movement nor is he one in the present, but who was a staff member of Beuys in the Seventies and Eighties of the last century. Neither the images, which seem much more consistent and unbroken than the narration and guessing games, nor the stories can plausibly reconstruct the past. The drawings’ naïvety concurs with memories that cannot lead to a satisfying dénouement.