Vor den letzten Dingen

23.05.2025 –
05.07.2025

Sarah Lüdemann (Beauham), Wolfgang Müller, Christian Haake

An empty room. Voices of birds. Artefacts made of clay, bones and concrete. That's all that's left of anything. That's all that could be saved - to the other side. You might remember a little, but you have to think about most of it. The extinction was too long ago, it was too abrupt, too violent. What happened on this floor? Did the walls run here? Was this shaft intended for the air supply? In the place where the tiles are so worn - was this where heavy equipment was used? And these pink pieces next to it: What might their surface feel like? Perhaps it is smooth and soft, perhaps the whole thing is still warm? Maybe it pulsates slightly? Were they once part of someone? Did they grow as part of a body - or were they added to it later? Are they amputations or prostheses?

How did they later break away from that someone - and why? Was it violence? Was it violence that emptied the space we were talking about earlier? Now at least the birds are still singing. You can't see them, you can only hear them. You can hear them - and also something of their surroundings. You can't see them because their species no longer exists. So why can you still hear them? Perhaps because someone still remembers them. But perhaps no one is still alive who could remember them. Maybe someone is just imagining what they might have sounded like.