The work explores the re- and deconstruction of a Gothic altarpiece. The choice of the triptych from St. Johannis Church in Dannenberg as the basis for this manipulation was determined by entering the search terms “triptych” and “altar” into a search engine. Instead of depicting the Passion narrative traditionally presented in the triptych from the mid-15th century, *IN NOMINE PATRIS* presents a different kind of passion across three screens: the decades-long sexual abuse of children and adolescents within the Roman Catholic Church. Representing the victims, we witness a procession of damaged children's toys in the approximately three-minute animated film. These toys gradually populate the virtual church space and eventually gather in silence beneath the cross.

Creationism, the literal belief in creation narratives, is often linked to the denial of evolutionary theory, which posits that life on Earth emerged through a long process of development. Religious fundamentalists are predominantly male, ignore scientific facts—such as human-induced climate change caused by the burning of fossil fuels—and are often drawn to conspiracy theories. The installation of a flat Earth, supported by three model cars on a wooden cross, plays with the connections between irrationality, *petro-masculinity*, fundamentalism, and authoritarian desire. Visually, the work draws inspiration from the *Discworld* novels by British fantasy author Terry Pratchett.

On a giant smartphone, several people are chatting while lighthearted schlager music plays through the headphones. However, as one steps closer, the harmless background music shifts to threatening death metal, and the seemingly superficial conversation reveals itself to be filled with hate and incitement. What initially appears harmless, upon closer inspection and listening, exposes itself as the death of a pluralistic society. To highlight this everyday phenomenon in social media usage, both the posts and the music have been exaggerated, specially staged, and composed for this work.

The 1:3 scale model is a modified version of the massive table at which Russian President Vladimir Putin received state guests in early 2022. Instead of the imposing pedestals on which the original oak table rests, the model’s tabletop is supported by three legs resembling the final stages of Russian Soyuz rockets. Rather than featuring elegant inlays, the tabletop of this adaptation is framed with gold leaf. Hidden within the floral patterns on its surface are tanks and howitzers, subtly aimed at the supposed counterpart sitting across. The ensemble is completed by two slightly pulled-back chairs positioned at the head ends of the table. Equipped with headphones, visitors immerse themselves in the silence of this immersive installation—a symbol of muteness and speechlessness in the face of the so-called *Zeitenwende*, the brutal reality of war in the heart of Europe in the 21st century.

In the video animation, the true nature of the table is revealed: the obscene fantasies and power lust of Putin. As he inflates to the point of bursting, the table explodes, unleashing an endless stream of sticky liquid onto the screen. Cascades of Matryoshka dolls spill out, each unveiling weapons, ammunition, and further evidence of the bloody war of aggression. The orgy of violence transitions into slow-motion sequences, forming a kind of *Ukrainian Requiem* that reinterprets key scenes from *Zabriskie Point*, the iconic film by Italian director Michelangelo Antonioni. Fittingly, the animation can only be seen when stepping into a booth lined with red velvet—much like in a peep show—where a viewing slot then opens.

While glaciers melt in the mountains, water levels rise elsewhere. Symbols of grandeur, such as towering glaciers, and places of human longing, like St. Mark's Square in Venice, are on the brink of destruction. The 3D animation of two images from the photo series *Mountains, Meadows, and Forests* and *High Noon* condenses this into a *Memento Mori*: Climate change does not wait.

The three photographs come from the *High Noon* series, for which the artist captured deserted locations in various European cities during the lockdown and later manipulated them with a "visual virus." Presented as a triptych, the images depict the Nationaal Holocaust Namenmonument in Amsterdam, where the names of Dutch Holocaust victims are engraved. As with all images in the series, the title was generated using the *What3Words* system, which replaces traditional GPS coordinates with three-word addresses via an algorithm. As viewers approach the images, they hear a woman's voice reciting the victims' names in Dutch.

The work features a blurred photograph of a landscape with a tower on the grounds of the Dachau Concentration Camp Memorial. It was taken during a joint visit to the memorial with musician Stefan Kling. The discomfort conveyed by the piece does not stem from concrete imagery but rather from its interplay with Kling’s composition, which is based on motifs from a 1935 orchestra of the Jewish Cultural Association. The circulating movement of the music reinforces the warning embedded in the title, which was generated using *What3Words*.

In recent years, a shift to the right has been evident across almost all of Europe. The rise of the AfD in Germany and the electoral successes of right-wing populist and far-right parties across the continent were the catalyst for this work. Initially generated using artificial intelligence, individual images were then assembled into a cohesive whole. History has long shown—most notably since the French Revolution—that leading figures of oppressive regimes often become victims of their own reign of terror.
Attached to the photograph is a newspaper on a wooden clipboard, revealing the context of the image.