Nikolaus Lang (1941–2022) lived in Murnau since 2005. He was one of the conceptual artists who are considered to be part of the “forensic science.” The work “Sintered Buzzard” was purchased in 1993, the year the museum opened. An exhibition at the Hamburg Art Association in 1974 gave the art of Didier Bay, Christian Boltanski, Jürgen Brodwolf, Claudio Costa, Anne and Patrick Poirier, Nikolaus Lang and other representatives of a new position its name: forensic science. “[…] this is the recording of signs from which the perpetrator can be identified, this is the recording of signs from which a past, not clearly documented reality can be identified, provided that systematic methods are used,” said Uwe Schneede, then director of the Hamburg Art Association, in his introduction to the famous exhibition. The technical term from forensics goes back to the Locard principle, named after Edmond Locard (1877–1966), which assumes that when two objects touch each other, traces are left behind that can be secured, analyzed and documented, and the evaluation of which allows conclusions to be drawn about courses of action and development processes. This technique is used not only by forensic scientists, but also by humanities scholars such as archaeologists and ethnologists and by artists who are involved in forensic science, such as Nikolaus Lang. Lang, a pioneer of forensic science, worked entirely in the spirit of this first definition. He got involved with a topic or an event, set out on the trail in the same way as the early expeditions, collected fragments of past life lines, organized and systematized what he found and re-related it to one another. His major theme was the nature and fate of marginalized groups, outsiders and loners. From Nikolaus Lang's entry "Bussardrevier - Flugbilder" on July 2, 1979: "Celia dropped me off in the car at the former garbage dump. I pushed the bark boat with the sintered Bussard attached under the barbed wire fence and climbed down to the rubble bed of the Halbammer. The entire dry riverbed was littered with spruce and alder trees uprooted by the last flood. With a pocket knife, I cut fine root strands from the free-growing rootstocks, twisted two tires out of them and deposited them in the bark boat. I avoided bumping into the woodcutters who were delimbing and debarking the washed-up spruce trees in the riverbed and pushed my way past them through alder quarries on the side of the river, carrying the boat on my head. Where the river had exposed large marl packs and stone bands, I put the bark boat in the water and let the rushing white water carry it along, holding it on a long line. At the vertical rock face where I had thrown snowballs at a recorded target figure 4 years ago, I pulled the boat into a quiet side arm and lit a small brushwood fire in the boat on a piece of sheet metal that I had stuck in place, which I stoked with lumps of resin. I always stopped floating the bark boat at outcrops that I knew contained plant or animal fossil remains, picked up an object and piled it up under the buzzard in the boat's hull. At the marl walls, the boat filled with water and sank. It was dragged along under the water for a while before it got stuck between boulders and I was able to pull it out, standing up to my hips in the rushing water. I fished the drifting spruce root strips out of the water again at the viaduct, and noticed a soldier in combat fatigues, a wine-red beret and a blackened face who must have been watching me from above with binoculars for quite some time."