We see crowds in brightly coloured anoraks in front of ski lifts; snowboarders on a halfpipe, the huge crowd of spectators illuminated by colourful beams of light;

fireworks on a glacier – and then suddenly emptiness: deserted snow bars with their après-ski décor, mountains of rubbish at the end of a day's skiing and crevassed slopes in summer. Lois Hechenblaikner shows how commercial culture has taken over the mountains, how it has scarred nature, covered it with technical infrastructure and in the process perverted Tyrolean traditions beyond recognition. All this can be read from a single image when, beneath a tap system whose dimensions are reminiscent of the control centre of a power station, a small sign with the inscription ‘Glühwein’ (mulled wine) can be seen. What drives Hechenblaikner when photographing his native Tyrol is an extremely fertile humour of despair.