EISWERDER. SOFA OPERA
Together with Lisokot
Together with Lisokot
One day, as we were walking to our island,
Eiswerder, we came upon an enormous pile of
sand. Immediately, a poem by A.M. surfaced in
mind:
Sad
...
Pile of sand
The new territory in which we've found ourselves is
gradually becoming covered by a map of
recognition, on which places from the subconscious
begin to emerge.
This is how it became clear how to make an opera.
Ours and Lisokot new lives are both isolation and
connection, just as an island is separated from the
mainland by water and connected by it at the same
time. Just as the old factory on the island is a single
organism composed of buildings and workshops
isolated from one another for safety.
Lisokot and we walked around the island and built a
psychogeographic map.
Then Lisokot began her magic: she drew sounds
out of the water and the air, songs out of memory, a
voice out of the sky, and the inhabitants of
Backsteinboot, led by Kaspar.
And we drew the map and drew out everything that
was in and around Backsteinboot: a sofa, jars,
water, algae, branches, ice. A false birch.
psychogeographical opera-installation
at Backsteinboot
Berlin
2026
photo credits:
Max Sher
V.Dudchenko
MishMash
at Backsteinboot
Berlin
2026
photo credits:
Max Sher
V.Dudchenko
MishMash
Walking around the Island we found 10 Stations:
Island * Weel * Chimney * Road to nowhere * Tower * Swan * Birch * Dragon * Rocks * Bridge
Here are some texts from the guidebook:
Island
Once, a glacier left behind the island of Eiswerder. Later, people appeared around it and began growing timber and grazing livestock on the island. Then a deaf immigrant from Styria and his six children were settled there. But they were not well liked.
The settlers behaved badly with regard to food and drink, as well as Holy Communion. The children fled back to Austria, while Herr Schulfer moved deeper into the island to distance himself from the water, and there his house burned down.
Later, fire returned, but in a controlled form: as fireworks for celebrations and as gunpowder for wars.
Chimney
Upon a lake there drifted a very, very little island.
The island appeared on no map,
so no one would ever know where it lay.
Upon that island stood an old, old factory,
built of dusty red brick.
And no one was meant to know what it made.
A tall, tall chimney
rose from the heart of the factory.
As long as the factory wheezed
and creaked and trembled,
smoke would curl from the chimney-
silver-grey,
sulphur-yellow,
or lilac-blue.
The colour of the smoke followed the voice of the factory.
When it creaked,
the smoke blushed red.
When it rumbled,
the smoke darkened black.
When it wailed,
the smoke drifted blue.
Then one day,
the factory fell silent.
No one could tell
whether the silence came all at once
or little by little.
The chimney, too, breathed out its final breath.
And then it stood still-
old,
empty,
bare.
The factory,
despite its secretive past,
shook off the dust from its roofs,
spat out its ancient sounds,
and quietly floated away.
But the chimney remained
alone in the middle of the island-
tall and thin:
Years passed in solitude; till something returned to the island-apparently it was a boat layered with that same fired brick that originated here. The boat anchored slowly but loudly and represented itself: my name is Boat, Backstein Boat.
All this happened thanks to
Inga Ivanova- poetic captain of Backsteinboot
Gabriel Francisco Lemos - sound support
Eve Fainke - creator of the dress sculpture
Jan Verwoert - singing art-critick
Samin Son - Kasper Uban voice support
Dina Vainchtain - videographer
Max Sher - Photographer
and all of Backsteinbooters
Island * Weel * Chimney * Road to nowhere * Tower * Swan * Birch * Dragon * Rocks * Bridge
Here are some texts from the guidebook:
Island
Once, a glacier left behind the island of Eiswerder. Later, people appeared around it and began growing timber and grazing livestock on the island. Then a deaf immigrant from Styria and his six children were settled there. But they were not well liked.
The settlers behaved badly with regard to food and drink, as well as Holy Communion. The children fled back to Austria, while Herr Schulfer moved deeper into the island to distance himself from the water, and there his house burned down.
Later, fire returned, but in a controlled form: as fireworks for celebrations and as gunpowder for wars.
Chimney
Upon a lake there drifted a very, very little island.
The island appeared on no map,
so no one would ever know where it lay.
Upon that island stood an old, old factory,
built of dusty red brick.
And no one was meant to know what it made.
A tall, tall chimney
rose from the heart of the factory.
As long as the factory wheezed
and creaked and trembled,
smoke would curl from the chimney-
silver-grey,
sulphur-yellow,
or lilac-blue.
The colour of the smoke followed the voice of the factory.
When it creaked,
the smoke blushed red.
When it rumbled,
the smoke darkened black.
When it wailed,
the smoke drifted blue.
Then one day,
the factory fell silent.
No one could tell
whether the silence came all at once
or little by little.
The chimney, too, breathed out its final breath.
And then it stood still-
old,
empty,
bare.
The factory,
despite its secretive past,
shook off the dust from its roofs,
spat out its ancient sounds,
and quietly floated away.
But the chimney remained
alone in the middle of the island-
tall and thin:
Years passed in solitude; till something returned to the island-apparently it was a boat layered with that same fired brick that originated here. The boat anchored slowly but loudly and represented itself: my name is Boat, Backstein Boat.
All this happened thanks to
Inga Ivanova- poetic captain of Backsteinboot
Gabriel Francisco Lemos - sound support
Eve Fainke - creator of the dress sculpture
Jan Verwoert - singing art-critick
Samin Son - Kasper Uban voice support
Dina Vainchtain - videographer
Max Sher - Photographer
and all of Backsteinbooters