During the preparations for the installation of a floor sculpture with circular steel plates, my assembly assistants and I transported these elements vertically, rolling like big wheels across the floor. At some point at the end of a long day, we lost track and probably also lost our caution. One of these disks with a diameter of at least 2.5m slipped out of our hands in the described vertical rolling position.

Once let go, the disc started to move on its own, unlike a rectangular object like a cupboard or a door that falls over. The mass did not follow the earth's gravity in one movement, but in a dynamic rotating motion, as choreographed in ever faster up and down movements towards the floor. In the process, a loud and rapidly rising steel sound developed abruptly in the impulse of the ever faster rotation, like a dynamically evolving whirl of a drummer on the concrete floor. The closer the metal circle came to the floor, the faster the moving surface with its acutely increasing resonance sound became. The movement of the form, striving for a climax, reached an enormous crescendo in its volume right before the moment of flat rest: a state without visible transition, but with an incredible acoustic roar; abruptly into a moment of silence, with a lingering moment of full-surface touch, like a brief sigh of the material. The reverb of the museum space reacted to the event in multiple repetitions.

Berlin, February 2000