The Next Chapter

There are stories that don’t end when the last sentence is written.

They continue to unfold quietly — in memories, in objects, in the paths we choose for ourselves.

After sharing my father’s rug story, I realized how deeply his way of looking at the world has shaped my own. Today, I am the festival director of Rock am Ring — a place defined by energy, community, and the power of culture to bring people together. A place that, at first glance, couldn’t be further away from antique rugs, handwoven motifs, or the quiet patience of traditional craftsmanship.

And yet, the more I think about it, the more I see the same thread running through everything I do:

the desire to open spaces, to create encounters, to make stories accessible.

My biggest goal now is to bring these rugs — my father’s life’s work — to a wider and younger audience. To show that they are not relics of the past, but vibrant witnesses of human creativity, identity, and connection. If a festival can move hundreds of thousands of young people through sound and collective experience, why shouldn’t these rugs have the chance to do the same — in their own, unexpected way?

On my journey — in my work, in my memories, and especially on my own inner page — I am constantly searching for new impulses. Slowly, a picture begins to emerge. Not a finished one, not yet. More like a pattern revealing itself thread by thread, asking to be followed.

These rugs hold so much.

So many layers, so many stories, so much quiet knowledge. They carry the gestures of the women who wove them, the dust of the roads they travelled, the symbols of communities that expressed their identity not through words, but through patterns. They unite craftsmanship and mythology, everyday life and spiritual meaning. They are artworks, archives, companions.

Culture.

Art.

Craft.

These rugs unite all three in a way that feels almost effortless — and yet is the result of centuries of tradition, intuition, and skill. In each piece, these elements dissolve into one another:

Culture becomes pattern.

Art becomes gesture.

Handcraft becomes story.

And maybe that is why they resonate so deeply with me now, in a phase of my life shaped by the intensity of live culture — by stages, sounds, collective experiences. I realize that what moves people at a festival is not so different from what lives inside these rugs: the longing to connect, to feel part of something bigger, to be touched by something real.

The more I understand this, the more clearly I see the potential they carry — not only as historical objects, but as living cultural energy. Something that can speak to young audiences, if we allow it the right space, the right form, the right moment.

And as I follow this thread further, I notice something shifting within me.

A quiet sense of direction.

A shape not yet defined, but undeniably growing.

Something is forming — slowly, steadily — and I am ready to see where it leads.