ZERO POINT

AUTUMN | FALL 2026

At home, a signed photograph of them hangs on my wall. Many know this place, or should. It would be a shame otherwise. I hope they give it the attention I do.

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Like Malevich’s black square the start of pure abstraction, the “zero point” of art, nothingness as the source of everything.

What if circles overlapped in fabric? Sometimes transparent, sometimes heavy or light?

What if I hinted at circles with slits, letting light shine through?

And what if, sometimes, they were simply black circles no meaning at all? I hardly dare to breathe.

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My legs are asleep, awkward as I rise. An hour has passed.

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…the state of minimal, yet never-ending energy an invisible foundation for movement, change, and the future. From stillness, transformation. Even in darkness, a constant vibration.

Berlin. A rainy, gray day. Why does everyone long for Berlin? I once left. Years passed. I returned. Now I know why.

I could sit here for hours, again and again. I have done so. Today, once more. Most people stand. I sit—legs crossed, settling in, knowing I’ll linger a long while.

Only my mind is alive, spinning at full speed. I know this feeling. Now—just hold still… I play a game with my mind: “What if?” And so it begins…

A circle - no beginning, no end. Infinity. I like that. In my search for the color black, I try to touch the depths of infinity ever further, ever deeper.

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Still, I do not move.

What if circles pierced the clothing opening new ways to style?

What if those slits looked like circles carved in thick book covers like sculpture? Or set in the most delicate fabrics, so airy they might fly away?

I saw beautiful people a different kind of physicality: soft, yet sharply cut. Wait… And what if I showed this new collection only on men?

I am alone. I walk away, pause, and look back at the black spheres.

I sit before two hundred black spheres moving, floating, sometimes in symmetry, sometimes in waves, hovering in the air.

I am completely still. I barely move - in fact, not at all.

Unmistakable, everywhere. In many cultures, a sign: sun, eternity, perfection, life. Sun? For me, it’s the moon. I love the sun, but the moon feels closer. I remain perfectly motionless.

Like a black hole, perhaps? What if? A collection built on black circles? It’s been done. Yes, almost everything has. And rightly so. Why? Because it fascinates.

Or felted in three dimensions, like small hills rising from delicate ground?

What if this created a dance of light and shadow sun or moon shining within the garment?

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What if I let my impressions from Tokyo flow into this? Tanizaki wrote: “Shadow is the true medium; in it, clothing becomes deeper, more dignified, more poetic.” Tokyo was beautiful.

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© ESTHER PERBANDT
Photography: Ansgar Sollmann
Styling: Christiane Arp & Wiebke Bredehorst