I am Ironwhistle. Outside my creative work, my name is Ingo Jäckels.
I am not a musician in the traditional sense. I see myself more as a storyteller. I write, I tell stories, and I try to give the images and emotions in my mind a form that can be heard and seen.
Modern technology allows me to bring to life things that once existed only in the private cinema of my imagination. Of course, I cannot turn every idea into reality, nor do I particularly want to. But at least I can now give some of them a tangible form.
Whenever someone asks me about my interests, I usually find myself at a bit of a loss. Not because there are too few of them. Quite the opposite!
History, mythology, ancient traditions, philosophy, traditional crafts, alternative ways of generating energy and, as something of a recurring thread throughout my life, the lesser-known and sometimes even feared aspects of human experience and the paths we take.
Perhaps that has something to do with the experiences I have had myself.
My own journey through life has not always been easy. I lost people I loved at an early age, encountered things that were far from ordinary, lived through difficult times, and spent much of my life thinking about questions that may never have definitive answers.
All of this has shaped the way I see the world.
Some of the stories and texts I write are based on personal experiences. Others draw upon myths, legends, and beliefs, together with a deep respect for nature and all living things.
And sometimes, when I write down my words and then hear what they become, when artificial intelligence transforms them into something audible, I quietly find myself wondering:
What will other people think of this?
That is why I would like to make one thing perfectly clear.
I am neither a guru nor a religious leader, nor anything of the sort. Quite the contrary. Deep down, I am an anarchist. I have little fondness for being told what to do, or for telling others what to do. I believe in personal responsibility and thinking for oneself.
I have no desire to tell anyone how they should see the world. Nor do I claim, in any way, to know the ultimate truth.
I simply share my thoughts and theories, the things that occupy my mind, move me, and sometimes refuse to let go.
And for me, it is also a way of coming to terms with myself.
So, if someone tells me that there is no soul in my work, I would actually like to agree with them.
There is just one problem.
I cannot.
Because if that were true, it would not hurt so much to live through these “texts” as I write them.
Perhaps that is also why my work moves between different times, cultures, and forms of expression.
Sometimes it is dark, sometimes hopeful, occasionally uncomfortable, and sometimes accompanied by a knowing smile.
And when things become a little too much, I simply pick up whatever happens to be at hand and turn it into something new.
What others discover in my work is entirely up to them.
My hope is simply that everyone who takes the time to explore it will find something positive in it, something that means something to them personally.
And if that happens, perhaps one day I will be able to look back and say:
Yes. My existence had a purpose after all.