Organ Sequences returns to Taborkirche for its 35th edition, an evening of experimental music in absolute darkness. Since its beginnings, Organ Sequences has treated the pipe organ not simply as a musical instrument, but as a space of resonance: a body of air, pipes, mechanisms and architecture whose sounds extend far beyond conventional ideas of organ music.
For its thirty-fifth chapter, the series returns to Taborkirche in Kreuzberg for an evening built around listening without images. In complete darkness, the usual visual information of a concert disappears. What remains is sound, resonance and the changing acoustic space of the church.
The program moves through four distinct situations: Michael Winter’s for sirens perhaps, and/or … (2025), written for four alarms; a trio with Bryan Eubanks, Alexander Markvart and Romain C. Bertheau; a solo violin performance by Austin Larkin; and Bertheau’s performance of three fugues from Johann Sebastian Bach’s Die Kunst der Fuge.
The evening begins with Michael Winter, whose work often develops simple processes over time, drawing connections between sound, phenomenology, mathematics and algorithmic information theory. His practice encompasses acoustic and digital instruments, installations and kinetic works. He co-founded the Los Angeles organization the wulf., dedicated to experimental artistic practices, and has been an artist-in-residence at Akademie Schloss Solitude.
Winter is followed by Bryan Eubanks, Alexander Markvart and Romain C. Bertheau in a trio guided by the music of Tibetan Bonpos, bringing saxophone, percussion and organ into a shared acoustic space.
Austin Larkin then performs a solo set on violin. His practice as a composer and musician has developed through solo performances and international collaborations, with work spanning violin, flute and bells.
The evening closes with Romain C. Bertheau at the organ, performing Contrapunctus I, V and VIII from Bach’s Die Kunst der Fuge. Here, one of the most historically codified forms of organ-related musical thinking enters the same space as the experimental practices heard throughout the evening.
