This color photograph reveals the Lyskamm in all its raw winter fury. A 4,532-metre giant standing between Switzerland and Italy, it fully deserves its sinister nickname of "man-eater". Its sharp edges, the scene of many a drama, take no prisoners.

Storms assault the summit with primitive violence. Wind-torn clouds reveal then mask the colossus' flanks in a macabre dance. When winter light briefly breaks through, it reveals hanging glaciers like menacing fangs ready to crush the foolhardy. Then shadow engulfs the mountain again, transforming it into a menacing spectre lurking in the mist. Furious winds sculpt fresh snow into fantastic shapes. Frozen waves, sharp crests, overhanging ledges - the Lyskamm becomes a raging sea solidified in the moment. This white, tormented abstraction tells of the violence of the elements better than a thousand words could.

All the way from Zermatt , I tracked down that moment when the Lyskamm reveals its true nature: mortal beauty, untouchable splendor. In this work, the mountain is no longer a mere backdrop, but a living creature, roaring under the assault of the elements. It embodies the primordial power of the Alps, their savage grandeur and absolute indifference to our fleeting existence. Faced with this icy titan, man understands his place in the world order - tiny and transitory. The Lyskamm continues its slow cosmic dance, indifferent to the dramas played out on its flanks, eternal in its terrible splendor.