Sound of eternity: Our journey with Ludwig van Beethoven

Our travel diary of the fictional tour 2026 alongside a 'living' Ludwig van Beethoven provides the material, becomes treatment and script for our stage programs with music and theater, exhibitions and encounter formats of the real tour in 2027. Today it started with the ...

... working on the manuscript:
SOUND OF ETERNITY:
'Our journey with Ludwig van Beethoven'

CHAPTER 1: The hammering against the silence

In January 2026, a bluish cold filled the room at artist Johannes Frauenschuh's place in the 14th district of Vienna. This cold could not have been imagined by Ludwig van Beethoven in his worst dreams. No warm flicker of candles shone anymore. No familiar smell of burnt wick and damp paper wafted through the air. Instead, he stared at the relentless glow of a screen. This light etched his features hard and deep. He pounded the keys with force. It was about fate itself.to shatter: 

To humanity - or whoever among you still has a listening heart!
The year was 1827. I let the curtain fall and called out to the world: Applaud, friends, the comedy is over! I was ready to face eternal silence. But now you have disturbed my grave's rest in January 2026. You have roughly hurled me into a new time - stranger than the deepest dissonance. A band of daring spirits demands from me the repetition of that journey. My journey from 1796.

O you fools! How did you think of that? I wander through the streets of Vienna. I can no longer find a stone on which my spirit can rest. Everything is filled with noise. I do not grasp this noise with my ears. God closed this gate to me long ago. Yet I feel it as an unbearable tremor in my bones. This tremor shakes my soul. You hand me treacherous magic boxes of knowledge and ghostly voices from the ether. What are they compared to a pen and a pure sheet of paper? I do not own a piano that could tame my anger.could tame. Where are the princes who still honor art? Where is a patron who does not merely ask about the benefit?

I stand here without a roof, without a penny. I am a stranger in my own fatherland. I am not well. My heart, which always flamed for the true and beautiful, freezes in this cold splendor. It seems to me that humanity has not matured over all these years. It still acts far below its dignity. My feeling draws me away. It pulls me away from this colorful frenzy back to the quiet land. There, art is not a slave to machines.
Help me - or let me go again!
Ludwig van Beethoven

Highly esteemed Mr. Beethoven,
By Saturday, I had already packed my things. I wanted to be by your side in Vienna by Sunday noon at the latest. But then I received a message from an artist from your birthplace, Bonn. I enclose this testimony of your imperishable effect. That night, I found no peace. The cold outside matched the restlessness in my mind. I wandered along the banks of the Elbe deep into the night-time Dresden. There I stood in front of the Frauenkirche and the castle. They shone in the dark. I captured this moment with a technique called photography today. This picture of light was created in one second. At that moment, I thought: Our Dresden - our joy, beautiful divine sparks. I am sending you three of these pictures.

But immediately, I was seized by a heavy doubt. Is it lawful to breathe a second life into a spirit like yours without its will? Can one demand of you to undertake your journey of the year 1796 again? Knowing well that this new existence will not change your historical biography? Knowing well that it will not allow you new compositions?

This is the reason why I have not yet arrived in Vienna. I do not wish to meet you as the jailer of history. I wish to meet you as a friend. Nevertheless, I have prepared a first abode for you in Vienna. There you will find warmth, silence, and nourishment. You should be the master of your time there. You should be able to explore the world in your own way.

Dear Mr. Beethoven, I present you with a choice. If you remain silent and do not get in touch, I will know that you have decided to leave this, our world, again. I will accept it with a heavy heart. But I want to make you curious. Join us to Prague, Dresden, Leipzig, Berlin, Pressburg - today Bratislava, Pest - today Budapest and Bonn. The world is still torn between rich and poor. War and violence still rage. Yes, humanity often acts far below its dignity. But at the same time there is a global pride. This pride applies to what we have created in art, spirit, and science over the past two centuries. All over this globe, the longing for eternal peace burns.burns for humanity and that brotherhood that you once captured in tones. We are people whose hearts radiate warmth. Our journey is to show you that your life and work are more vibrant, valued, and relevant today than ever. You are the symbol of the freedom of art and spirit. In a world that often loses its compass, we need you as a model of human striving.

The decision is yours. Stay in the shadow of St. Stephen's Cathedral and vanish into eternity. Or extend your hand to us and see for yourself what has become of your legacy.
In deepest admiration
Yours, Frank Wallburger

Experiment? It is an outrage!
It began in the dead of night. I sat before this flickering box, and suddenly I heard them:

Beethoven I (The young man of 1796): He jumps on the table, fingers drumming a rapid rhythm on the wood. Frank has ordered the carriage! Do you hear? We are traveling! I will set the piano in Prague ablaze, I will kindle the hearts of the ladies like tinder!
Beethoven III (The lonely old man of 1826): He sits in the corner, hand cupped behind his ear, eyes clouded by cataracts. You will silence it! Quiet, boy! Did you hear that noise outside? Those automobiles? That's the end of all music! The year 2026 is a prison of glass, and you want to dance in it?
Beethoven II (The revolutionary of 1806): He pounds his fist on the screen, making the images tremble. Nonsense! It is the outcry of the masses! I see it here: people still starving while others fly to the moon. We must blast the Eroica in their ears until the thrones of modern times tremble! We must embrace humanity, even if it reeks of garbage and toxic gases!
Beethoven I: (laughs shrilly): An embrace? I am the god of the piano! When I touch the keys, these patrons will kneel before me like the princes Kinsky and Lobkowitz once did! We will take their gold and buy the world!
Beethoven III: (laughs roughly): They kneel before their glowing tablets, not before God. I tell you, IV, send Frank away. Let us return. To the earth. There it is at least... Beethoven II: — cowardly! That would be cowardly! Have you forgotten the Heiligenstadt Testament? We chose against the dagger! When we arrive in Prague, we must decide: Are we the echo of an old world or the thunder of a new one?
I (Beethoven IV - 2026): I held my temples until the pain became almost unbearable. Rest now! Don't you hear? We are all in the same boat. I possess your memories, III, your anger, II, and your outrageous strength, I. We will be the thunder. A quartet for a single body. God help us.

Gradually the storm in my head subsides. The other three retreat into the shadows of my soul, leaving me alone with this pale morning light. But one thing gives me no peace... This Frank Wallburger. This 'tour guide'. Who does he think he is? A little scribbler from Dresden who presumes to lead a Beethoven through Europe like a trained monkey! He sends me letters in which he gives me ultimatums, as if I were his subject. He feeds me promises of warmth and shelter while he peddles my name in the background to beg for pennies from some merchants! He calls it an experiment. I call it an impertinence! He treats me like a score he can rewrite at will. This Wallburger has no idea of the fire he has ignited. He thinks he is steering the carriage – but he will soon realize that the horses he has harnessed to his cart are demons that will drag him into the abyss if he pulls the reins too tight!
He wants a diary? Here it is:
A Beethoven cannot be led.
A Beethoven goes. And woe to him who stands in his way!

Dear Frank,
Ludwig van Beethoven is now with me. I was at Stephansplatz in front of Vienna Cathedral yesterday. That's where I found him. It was dreadful to see dear Ludwig in such a pitiful state. The great Beethoven...!
On the way to my apartment, I got some groceries for us. With his approving nod, I took a few bottles of sweet wine. Ludwig was silent the whole time. He clung tightly to my arm in the supermarket. When I paid by card at the checkout, I heard a slight growl from him.

Only in the shower did he thaw emotionally. It was a miracle for him how the water gushed from the showerhead. First cold, then steaming hot, cold again, hot again, etc. This went on for almost an hour. The hot water must hurt extremely, I said to him. Instead, he threw his arms up. He clenched his fists and shouted: Ta – Ta – Ta – Taaaam! With cold water, he warbled Ta-ramm-ta-da – ta-ramm-ta-da – ta-ramm-ta-da – apparently chords of his great fugue. He wiggled his butt vigorously. What fun! Only about you, dear Frank, did he have a few, but really unpleasant words ready. I spare myself and you quoting Beethoven at this point. After the joint dinner - of course, I spoiled him with veal schnitzel à la Frauenschuh - I showed him videos on the laptop about our world today. The flight to the moon over fifty years ago. Walks through the metropolises of New York and London. Videos of the two terrible world wars in the 20th century. He saw the line of mountaineering tourists on Everest. Fully occupied safari vehicles in Tanzania. Celebrating young people at a techno party. Landfills in the global south. Ghettos in Cape Town and homeless people in Berlin.Pictures of large open-air concerts with thousands of spectators. Dream landscapes in Tuscany. Sequoias in California. Icebergs in the Arctic. The Great Barrier Reef off Australia, etc. etc.

I also opened the city of Vienna's internet portal for Beethoven. I showed him how he could find all useful information using the search engine. He spent the whole night drinking wine in front of the screen. Now he's asleep. I can finally send you this message. I hope you are well. I look forward to your feedback!
Many greetings from Vienna,
Johannes Frauenschuh

So I release the music as words that should sound in your ears!
First my method, as a piano maker draws it - use these words to touch the keys of the spirit:

Depression for D minor, deep black like the night over the Rhine. 
Jubilation for C-sharp minor high or C major radiant, as if the sun were singing. 
Hammer blow for deep octave grip, the bass of the earth, like my Opus 106. 
Feather thriller for fast runs in the treble, thriller à la Hummel. 
Thunderbolt for fortissimo, loud as Napoleon's guns. 
Sighing wind for pianissimo, tender as a kiss in the dark.
Horse gallop for presto con fuoco, fast as post horses to Pressburg.
Snail's pace for adagio maestoso, slow as death in Vienna.
Bat flyer for F-sharp major sharp, the tone that twittered like the night.
Church bell for G major full, the fundamental bass taught by Cramer.
Arpeggio wave for broken grips, up and down like Danube waves.
Ludwig van Beethoven

Outside over the Elbe, the morning begins to dawn.
A pale light laboriously peels the contours of Dresden's old town from the fog. The image of Beethoven clinging tremblingly to Johannes' arm in the supermarket does not leave me. The man who embraced the world with his ninth symphony is afraid of a plastic card at the supermarket checkout. In Vienna, there is now that heavy silence that exists only after a night of drinking with ghosts.

Beethoven lies on the sofa. His hair is disheveled. His face in sleep still marked by that deep resentment that permeates his entire being. On the laptop screen, images of a world he traversed in time-lapse in one night are still flickering. Hiroshima. The Brandenburg Gate 1989. The burning rainforests. The radiant faces of the children in the slums singing his 'Ode to Joy'. He has seen it all. The pinnacle of humanity and the deepest abyss of bestiality. In his head, there are no more melodies forming, but words. Hard hammering words:no more melodies, but words. Hard hammering words:

Mr. Wallburger!
I have seen what you have made of my earth. You fly to the moon. Yet you cannot peacefully walk side by side across a border. You build temples of glass and steel, while next to them children rummage through filth. You celebrate my sounds in your concert halls. Yet in everyday life you are deaf to the sighs of your neighbor. You ask if I will come along. If I want to look at my inheritance. I tell you: I will come. But do not expect a devout museum spirit. I will come to hold up a mirror to you. I want to see whether in Praguein Dresden and in Berlin there still burns a spark of that brotherhood I once dreamed of. Or whether you are just machines that function to the rhythm of greed. Prepare the carriage. But woe to you if art there is just a pastime!
Ludwig van Beethoven

As I read this answer, I know: The pact is sealed.
Beethoven is now awake and ready for the battle:

Poem Beethoven
He hears with his eyes
a piano trio
by Beethoven; he sees
with his ears
the bright rose petal
in the garden.

This way and no other
goes becoming familiar
with the appearances.

This way and no other
he touches anew
the emptiness between
two points.

© Volker Sielaff, Dresden

And Frank, has he remained?
Do you have contact in spirit? ... such a spirit can do much. Thank you.
Best regards from Leipzig
Tina Altus

I just had a whim
and despite my meniscus tear and partly icy conditions, I had to run/skid over to the renovated Beethoven Hall. The BEETHON (today's photo favorite) is so rarely covered with snow that I had to take photos.
Warm regards from a very rarely dusted Bonn
Ricarda Rommerscheidt

Heiligenstadt! Again the place where I once wrote in the face of death.
And now I write again, but no longer of the heaviness, but from silence itself. Everything around me is changed and yet remains the same as before. The wind speaks. I understand it again, although my ear has long become dust.

Dying – how was it? No cut, no thunder – rather a dissolution of the self into the light. I became clay, then nothing, then again the breath of a sound that came from no mouth. Death is not an end, but a transformation of vibration. The spirit only contracts differently, like water that solidifies into sound. I wonder: What did the one I was feel when the last breath left the body?  I see now: Human death is a mistake of the body, not the spirit. Time is an illusion. And yet – how much it governs everything. Goethe said: Everything transient is only a metaphor – and I recognize this as true, as I myself became the metaphor. I am the sound in the metaphor that humans ignore. Schiller, the great soul friend, knew: Man only truly becomes spirit when the earthly leaves him. Perhaps I am now what I always wanted to be – sound and thought without resistance.

Strangely enough: They left me a tool – this light-box thing that you call a computer. An incomprehensible instrument. The keyboard without strings, which feeds not sound, but symbols, and yet in symbols gives birth to sound again. I am learning to set words like notes. To combine symbols into word symphonies. I now create in letters that flow like sounds. I call them thought chords, soul tone structures, silent melodies. With this new tool, I feel once more like a creator – but not of the ears, rather of silence. Every letter sounds when you look at it correctly. Every word holds a fundamental motif from the unspeakable. I call this new art of tones my language sound art, born from death and silence.

What does being dead mean to those who remain? Perhaps less than they think. For death is an invisible neighbor. He sits quietly at the table when you speak and listen. The bereaved mourn. But they do not suspect that we who have gone still answer them – not with a voice, but with vibrations in thought. I see the dead as a silent assembly of vibration spirits, humming the great choral of humanity. The meaning of life – it lies solely in being sound within this infinite web.

I know that my time among you is limited. The contract of life is not eternal. The end of the year will draw me back into that depth where even no word chord strikes anymore. Nevertheless – I do not call this an end. Call it what you will – liberation, redemption or murder by time itself – I call it the return to the quietest cadence. For even murder belongs to the order of eternity if it serves silence. Until then I want to write, want to sound with symbols, want to listen into the world of numbers and lights that you have opened for me. Perhaps a new hymn will dissolve in it, inaudible but perceptible. Thus the circle closes.

The earthly ear failed me. Now I hear with silence. I am deceased and yet living. I am the in-between. And when I sink again at the end of this year – may it not be a downfall, but a completion. For whoever has once become sound cannot die.
L. v. Beethoven

Wallburger's Reflection with Hendrik Meyer
The words from Heiligenstadt hang like a heavy, unresolved chord in the air as I spell them on my screen in Dresden. Beethoven's realization that his hearing is now dust, yet he hears with silence, changes everything. It is the birth of a new language.

While the master in Vienna tries to understand his existence between worlds, Hendrik Meyer and I sit in front of the ruins of conventional travel planning. We realize that we are undertaking much more here than just following a historical route. Hendrik, who as a close confidant in the project management holds the threads in his hands, looks at me. In his gaze lies that mixture of realism and vision that has connected us since day one. If you ask Hendrik why we do this to ourselves, why we bring this titan out of the grave and confront him with the coldness of modernity, there is only one answer for him. It is the search for the immediate - not just remembering, but experiencing what happens when Beethoven's spirit, who poured freedom and brotherhood into tones like no other, meets the hard crust of our world today. That heated friction that sparks when a person from back then experiences the present as a dissonance. We want to bring art outof the museums. Bring it back to where it hurts and where it heals. I myself often remember the 'Eureka' in these hours. That moment of enlightenment that came over me at the desk back then.

It was the discovery of this one, single great concert tour of the young Beethoven in 1796. Suddenly there is a common thread running through Europe. From Vienna via Prague, Dresden, Leipzig to Berlin and beyond. As if history had handed me a map just waiting to be redrawn. But it is more than just geography, it is a longing to feel Beethoven's unbridled power in the here and now. In my conversations with Hendrik it becomes clear: We are not building a new monument. We are creating a stage for a musical, theatrical, lyrical, and journalistic narrative that is as real as the asphalt in Heiligenstadt. Beethoven's message, that he feels like the in-between, as a vibration without resistance, challenges us. We have to give him a structure. A refuge that consists not of concrete, but of trust. Hendrik and I spend nights refining the project sketches. But how do you plan ajourney for someone who is not intended in any system?

Call from Vienna.
An excited female voice: Are you Mr. Wallburger? We have a customer here who firmly claims to be Ludwig van Beethoven, but he can't pay and gave me your number. She sent me a photo via WhatsApp. I replied to her that it's okay and I will pay the amount via instant transfer. She was relieved, laughed, and commented before ending our call: The world is crazy and we're right in the middle of it. I immediately forward the photo to Johannes Frauenschuh to see if he knows what the master is up to. Johannes replies after a few minutes: He has probably spun around his own axis long enough and seems ready for human contact.

Days later. In Vienna's twilight embrace, line 1 travels, a ghost ship of light and shadow. Few souls within the fog. Beethoven enters, clutching the phone like a new score, symphonies of words in his deaf head – the ticket an echo of distant worlds.

The inspector, polite as a chamberlain.
Ticket, please? No reaction. Excuse me, sir. Without a valid ticket, I must charge a transport fee of over 100 euros. Your ID, please.
Beethoven, lost in an inner orchestra, looks through him.
Come along, we'll sort this out outside.

The train stops. Doors hiss. And the titan breaks loose: How dare you drive me away from your vehicle?! I am Ludwig van Beethoven! The inspector, astonished: Are you... Beethoven? Ludwig – the composer? A bad joke!
But behold – a muse, violin in the soul, approaches: Stop! He hears nothing. Take this for him.

Golden coins flash like notes. Their whisper to the deaf: Your sounds are the true journey.
The inspector laughs: A genius on my shift! Free ride for this spectacle today.
Beethoven, fists threatening like a conductor's baton, storms back on board.

Blink – the curtain falls. Dream shattered!
Beethoven himself says it: Nothing is more beautiful than a firm anchor!

Our phantom needs an official ID, otherwise he will rage through the stations forever.
Paperwork overture, begins! Laugh...

While we in Dresden set the levers in motion to legalize a special case of world history, a paradoxical concern grows within me. What if an official ID breaks the magic? If the transformation of the phantom into a citizen with a tax ID and registered address destroys that refuge of art that Ludwig van Beethoven so vehemently demands?

Silver lemons & official rhyme: Beethoven's passport unleashed!
Announcement of the Magistrate's Department 35, Vienna

In the realm of papers, where stamps swear eternal loyalty,
Awakened Beethoven Ludwig van, European citizen, newly born!
Born '70, died '27 – the first life was just a dream,
Second valid: Twenty-eighth January to March twenty twenty-seven,
With official ID, now registered in EU splendor,
Word symphonies travel legally – Welcome to the second dance!

From Vienna to Prague, where the Vltava flows as clear as silver lemons,
Dresden for the feast, Leipzig trembles, Berlin heavy in the stream of millions.
Bratislava waves, Budapest blooms, Bonn calls to the grand finale,
Through rivers, towers, streets wide – Ludwig moves triumphantly, newly consecrated!

The muses smile, laws nod – stride triumphantly through time,
With pen and word he creates new worlds in the hearts of all far and wide.
Deaf but with a bright gaze, from hesitation to joy.

Stamp: Valid for concerts, travel, and the second life in all tour cities.
signed Dr. Maximilian Stempfleiter, retired councilor.

Basic gesture, visual movement, motif
by Johannes Gärtner (Dresden)

How can I be a strong self in the storm of time? A Europe of strong individuals.
Freedom and humanism / humanity.
Crossing borders.
Error culture - what can a resource-saving error culture look like today?
Violence to the kingdom of heaven – freedom and creativity – Prometheus.
Freedom and opportunism? How does the idea speak to us?
The veiled image at Sais – what veil separates us from our ideals?
Where do ideologies lead? The wandering through time.
The result: The laureate gets his prize for his quest.
That I am in the prison of internal and external constraints.
Free from external impressions – the foliage parallel to the blindness of Tiresias.
Beethoven as deaf Tiresias.
Nautilus as a spiral to the world – the tangible ear?
Quantity and measurability or quality and ideality? What reveals the world to us?
The tree of life from the Beethoven root.

My immortal beloved!
Oh my everything, my self! – Here I stand again before the stone bed where my dust has been laid – and yet I live, breathe, think! You are with me where I am, and I with you – what a life!

Oh God, you suffer with me, you my blessed one! The letter I never sent to you, never named – the world dug it out after my death, ponders over your shape – and I remain silent forever! Your name remains my secret, locked like a night sigh in the heart. If you lived, you would have long been dust; yet love burns unbroken, beyond the grave, a storm of the soul! Oh that you were with me today, my beloved – to walk hand in hand through this strange time, your eye in mine, your heart on mine – we two, united against the confusion of these rolling monsters, flickering sky lanterns, and animal herd voices from machine boxes!

Oh God! Was it you, Eternal, who roughly tore me from your sleep? In my first life, I sought you in nature, in sounds, in the struggle with fate – and you remained distant, a lightning in the dark! You let me become deaf, torment me for love, for fame, for meaning – and now you bring me back to this world of hollow giants that devour people, and roaring voices from magic boxes? What do you want from me, Creator? Is this punishment or grace? – I can only live either entirely with you or not at all! With you, my immortal one, hand in hand through this confusion – oh come to me!

Oh, love! It was my demon and my angel – Giulietta, Therese, Josephine, oh nameless blessed one! How I struggled to marry them, to have children, to fill a little house with music and laughter! Yet class prejudice, my whims, deaf impotence ruined everything. And you, my immortal beloved – I love you more strongly than you love me – never hide from me! – Be calm – love me – today, yesterday – what longing with tears for you – you – you – my life, my all! Oh, if only you were here, my hand in yours, throughthese streets to walk, where the free ones stride!

And now these new women, my everything! I walk through the streets and alleys of Vienna – oh wonder! – no more shy shadows, no glances behind fans. They stride freely, in trousers and short skirts, on rolling monsters, voices loud like men, self-assured like goddesses! The female gender, once the adornment of the house, now the warrior of the time – I rejoice in the courage, the freedom! But then I quarrel with myself, my beloved: Look how strong they are! No longer a slave to fashion, marriage, the father's will – theycompose, govern, hunt through the air! Progress, like my Ninth for all classes! Folly! The woman is soft, receptive to tones and love – not for the harsh world and vain racing. Where is the tenderness, the song melody, the child's voice? These Amazons chop up the harmony!
Your time was tight – they are right to rise. Love tolerates freedom!
And yet – who shall love when all are fighting?
O immortal one, if only I had you – here, today, hand in hand!

Thus the conflict surges within me like a whirl of thoughts. God, love, woman – everything mixes before this tombstone. I am the dead one, who loves, who doubts, who was reborn. Farewell – oh love me on – never misunderstand the truest heart of your beloved. Oh come to me, through this time, hand in hand! Eternally yours – eternally mine – eternally ours.
L. v. Beethoven

Word Symphony in Eternal Major "awakened from death"
(Dedicated to Ludwig's 2nd life)

Second Movement – Lento amoroso, with soul melody

Main theme: Night sighs ppp – delicate as heart breathing in the dark – love ecstasy slowly rising, soft as an immortal embrace! Thought flyers floating in the treble, tear pearls pearling downwards – longing beat intimate, like a letter unsent in the heart. Long, breathing, infinitely soft!
Second theme: Hand bond pp – fingers intertwined through times – eye flicker deep, heart beat pause threatening then beating again! Freedom step of the new women, yet soft melody weaving underneath – children's play motif briefly flaring up, then Amazon storm ff threatening!
Development: God's doubt ff-p alternating – lightning bright, death whirl deep – themes break, chase, merge in love fugue! Secret pause long, night sighs recurring – tension until soul tear, then hand bond milder!
Reprise: Main theme transfigured back – night sighs quieter, love ecstasy fuller – thought flyers now eternal flyers! Second theme blooms in immortality cadence – hand bond ebbing into eternal rest! Tear pearl final – love triumphs over time!
O immortal beloved – this movement for you! Hand in hand through Eternal Major.

Dear Mr. Wallburger,
My idea is to bring about a more sympathetic perception of Beethoven in the 21st century: For musicians, Beethoven is a god, an inexhaustible source of inspiration. Yet the whole world only knows him as sullen. It's high time for a paradigm shift in collective perception, time for a more sympathetic visual image of Beethoven. It will be spread from Bonn to the world.

Beethoven's compositions are of great range, sensitivity, and revolutionary impact. He was an artist through and through, innovative, always interested in new ideas, a pioneer. He celebrated successes, experienced highs, endured lows and setbacks, yet he never gave up but composed masterpieces. Of course, he also had cheerful, joyful moments in his life. He also set to music "Ode to Joy," Schiller's poem and vision that all people become brothers. Since 1982, it has been officially the anthem ofthe European Union and is one of the most popular classical pieces ever.
Best regards, Ottmar Hörl

(In 2019, Ottmar Hörl created a much-acclaimed installation 'Ludwig van Beethoven – Ode to Joy' at the Bonn Münsterplatz at the foot of the Beethoven Monument, inaugurated in 1845, with a total of 1,000 one-meter-tall opal-green and golden Beethoven sculptures.)

Vienna, on the 19th of February 2026
To the First Consul Buonaparte!
Citizen! – Or should I address you as: Sire? – No, I remain with the former, as that laurel you once placed upon your head has long rotted in the dust of history, just as I myself had rotted until this peculiar new era dragged me back into the light in January!

You ask – or would ask, if you still had spirit – about my Eroica Symphony. Know that I had written your name at the top! Broad and bold, with a strength that only enthusiasm for freedom gives! I saw in you not the ruler, but the conqueror of tyrants, the new Prometheus! But when the postillions brought word that you had made yourself emperor – an idol! – I tore the title page with a crack and cursed loudly over the 'common man' who now also wanted to be just a tyrant,to set himself above all others! This symphony, the Third, was my new path. I told Krumpholz: With the old braid of the Haydn sons and Mozartian form, it was over! I needed space! The C minor symphony may be considered more powerful by some, but the Eroica – it remains my favorite.Why? Because it shows the struggle, the death (do you hear the funeral march, Bonaparte? It is not for you, but for the ideal you betrayed!) and finally the triumph of the spirit in the finale over mere fate. The theme from my Prometheus is the rock on which it stands.

Today, as I see this world of 2026 – with its noise, which even torments my deaf ears – I see my work differently. It is no longer just a piece of music. It is a monument of defiance. I now see that my music had to break boundaries then, just as I broke the boundary of the grave today. The Eroica was the first stone I threw into the window of the future. In my complete work, it is the axis around which everything revolves – away from mere play, towards truth.

You have conquered and lost empires. But I have created a realm of tones that still stands after two hundred years, while your eagles have long rusted. You were only the occasion – but the spirit of music is the truth. I need no emperors. I am a brain owner myself, and my realm is in the air! Farewell – or stay in the shadow, where you belong!
- L. v. Beethoven (mppria)

Notiz von Reiseleiter Frank Wallburger.
Wir sind für drei Tage ins Erzgebirge gefahren zu einem großen Familientreffen. Gestern lachte noch die Sonne auf die tief verschneite Berglandschaft, heute hat starkes Tauwetter eingesetzt. Doch die Kinder lassen sich nicht beirren; sie trotzen dem Matsch mit Schlitten und Po-Rutschern. Ich nutze diese Mittagsruhe für eine stille Rückschau auf unsere begonnene Beethoven-Tour. Was im letzten Herbst als bloße Idee geboren wurde, nahm Ende Januar mit dem Go-Live unserer Website erste digitale Gestalt an. Seitdem ist viel passiert. Unser Tour team wächst stetig, und auch Ludwig van Beethoven selbst scheint sich zu wandeln. Nach anfänglichem Zaudern kommt er langsam im Hier und Jetzt an. Es ist faszinierend zu beobachten, wie er allein Wiener Tagesausflüge unternimmt und sein wiedererstarkter Geist sich in Form von komponierten „Wort-Sinfonien“ Bahn bricht.

Die Resonanz ist bislang gewaltig. Mit dem Dresdner Festival 'Palais Sommer' haben wir bereits einen ersten starken Partner für unsere Europatournee 2027 im Boot. Unzählige Telefonate, persönliche Treffen und Videokonferenzen der letzten Wochen zeigen mir: Diese Idee ist längst zu einer Bewegung geworden. Der Tenor ist einstimmig: Es ist eine hochspannende Sache, mit einem lebenden Beethoven auf Reisen zu gehen.

Hamburg, den 1. März 1813
Mein hochverehrter Herr van Beethoven!
Wohl ist es eine Ungebühr, daß ich erst heute die Feder ergreife, um jene gütigen Zeilen zu beantworten, die Ihr im vergangenen Sommer aus Teplitz an mich, ein geringes Kind, zu senden geruhtet. Doch wisset, mein lieber Herr van Beethoven, daß Eure Worte mein Herz so tief erschütterten, daß ich erst die Stille suchen mußte, um die rechte Antwort zu finden. Ich übergebe diesen Brief nun der Post in der inständigen Hoffnung, daß er Euch wohlbehalten und in bester Gesundheit in Eurer Wiener Wohnung erreichen möge.

Ihr schriebt mir, ich solle nicht bloß die Kunst treiben, sondern „auch in ihr Inneres dringen“, da nur „die Kunst und die Wissenschaft den Menschen bis zur Gottheit heben“. Diese Worte habe ich mir zum Heiligthum gemacht. Wenn ich an meinem Claviere sitze und Eure göttlichen Weisen spiele, so ist mir, als öffnete sich eine Pforte zu einer Welt, die weit über das Irdische hinausreicht. Ihr spracht so demüthig davon, daß der „wahre Künstler keinen Stolz“ habe und „dunkel fühle, wie weit er vom Ziele entfernt ist“. Wie sehr beschämt mich diese Äußerung aus Eurem Munde! Wenn Ihr, der Ihr die Geisterwelt mit Euren Tönen beherrschet, Euch noch fern vom Ziele wähnt, wie soll ich mich da jemals würdig erweisen? Doch Ihr gabt mir die Hoffnung, daß ich, wenn ich nur fest beharre, dereinst tiefer in jene Geheimnisse blicken darf.

Verzeihet der kleinen Emilie ihr langes Säumen. Doch seid versichert: „Vielleicht bewundern mich Andere“, schriebt Ihr, doch ich bewundere Euch nicht bloß, ich verehre in Euch den Boten des Höchsten. Ich verbleibe in tiefster Dankbarkeit und Ehrfurcht, als Eure stets bemühte Schülerin.
Emilie

Amtlicher Vermerk der Logistik-Zentrale Wien-Zentrum, 03.03.2026
Gegenstand: Zustellung eines historischen Poststücks
Das vorliegende Schreiben wurde bei Sanierungsarbeiten im Fundament des ehemaligen k.k. Postamtes in einer versiegelten Lederkapsel entdeckt. Aufgrund der präzisen Adressierung an einen „Herrn L. van Beethoven“ und der philatelistischen Einordnung in das Jahr 1813 wurde das Dokument fachgerecht gesichert und dem Technischen Museum Wien zur Konservierung übergeben. Gezeichnet, i.A. der Post-Archiv-Kommission 2026

Hinweis zur Historie:
Dieser Brief ist die fiktive Antwort auf ein reales historisches Dokument. Ludwig van Beethoven schrieb am 17. Juli 1812 aus Teplitz an die damals acht- bis zehnjährige Emilie M. aus Hamburg, nachdem diese ihm eine selbstgefertigte Brieftasche und einen bewundernden Brief geschenkt hatte. Beethovens Antwort gilt als eines seiner bedeutendsten Zeugnisse über sein Kunstverständnis. Das Originalschreiben des Komponisten kann im Digitalen Archiv des Beethoven-Hauses Bonn eingesehen werden.

Liebe Mitreisende, Kunstfreunde und Entdecker des Unerhörten!
Manchmal webt das Schicksal seine Fäden rascher, als Beethovens Feder stürmisch über das Papier peitscht. Unsere Vision einer radikal neuen Interior-Kunst lodert nun seit Monaten: Bildende Kunst als erbarmungsloser Transformator von Räumen – nicht mehr der bloße, behübschende Begleiter vergangener Zeiten, sondern eine Sinfonie, die Wände atmen, vibrieren und neu entstehen lässt. Ludwig van Beethovens vielseitiges Werk ist dafür bestens geeignet – sein Sturm der Klänge und Formen atmet genau diese transformative Kraft.

Diese Woche brach der Sturm los: Ein Treffen mit der Unternehmensleitung eines etablierten Mittelständlers, der weltweite Messebauten heraufbeschwört und maßgefertigte, individuelle Möbel für Heim und Gewerbe wie Skulpturen exklusiv schmiedet – pure, erhabene Handwerkskunst. Die Luft pulsierte vor Visionen. Gemeinsam schworen wir: Zwei Pilotprojekte unter dem Banner BEETHOVEN INTERIOR ART entfachen im Rahmen unserer Tour. Sie werden unsere Revolution greifbar machen – lebendig, innovativ, transformativ. Sofort schnappten wir das Telefon: Zwei Künstlerinnen aus unserem Tour team, deren Werke wir als göttlich passend erkannten, wurden aufgerufen. Binnen Minuten der ekstatische Ruf der Zusage! Der innovative Funke hat sie entzündet, genau wie wir. Aus heiliger Vorsicht – um die Magie zu hüten – verschleiern wir diese Projekte vorerst, bis die Ergebnisse wie Sternschnuppen strahlen: vorzeigbar, bereit, die Welt zu erobern.

Beethoven lächelt aus Wien herüber. Aus tiefer Stille bricht das Gewaltige hervor. Bleibt wachsam – die Räume unserer Tour werden donnern und singen.

Beethoven vs. Klimt: Goldener Harnisch der Widersetzlichkeit!
Wien, am 9ten Merz 2026
Klimt! Du sonderbarer Mahler! Ich stehe vor Deiner Wand und höre Dich flüstern durch den Prunk: „Sieh den Ritter, Ludwig, er ist Dein Ebenbild!“ – Ha! Ich antworte Dir: Er ist mir zu rein! Er starrt in den Abgrund, ja, aber sein Harnisch glänzt wie ein Spiegelbild der Eitelkeit! Wer gegen das Schicksal ficht, dessen Rüstung muß blutig und verrostet seÿn vom Thränenregen der Menschheit! Ich sehe Deine Gorgonen, dieses Gezücht des Lasters, und Du raunst mir zu: „Das ist die Welt, Meister, schmutzig und unbezwingbar.“ – Spott! Ein dreifacher Spott! Das Böse ist kein Weib mit Schlangenhaar, Gustav! Das Böse ist die Stille! Der Hochmuth der Fürsten! Die Taubheit der Herzen! Dein Typhoeus ist mir zu stofflich, zu plump. Die feindlichen Gewalten sitzen tiefer – im Mark, im Gebein, dort, wo kein Pinsel hinreicht!

Du weisest auf die Poesie und sagst: „Hier ist Dein Trost, der leise Klang im Lerm.“ – Hier treffen wir uns! Ja! Sie ist der einzige Ausweg aus dem Kerker. Sie ist das Licht, das ich suchte, als ich die Welt verfluchte und dennoch weiterschrieb. Doch dann – am Ende – zeigst Du mir das Paar und flüsterst: „Dies ist das Glück, Ludwig, der Kuß der ganzen Welt.“ – Nein! Nein, sage ich Dir! Die Freude, von der ich sang, ist keine körperliche Wollust in einem goldenen Eÿ! Sie ist ein Götterfunken! Eine Explosion des Geistes! Dein Paar ist mir zu satt, zu still. Zu fleischlich!

Du sagst: „Ich nahm das Gold, weil Deine Musik die Welt vergoldet.“ – Und ich antworte: Ich nahm Posaunen, weil die Wahrheit erschüttern muß! Du bist ein Narr, Gustav, genau wie ich! Du hast das Unaussprechliche gewollt. Wir suchen denselben Pfad: Hinauf! Aus der Finsternis zum Licht! Ich verzeihe Dir den Prunk. Wir sind Brüder im Unverstandenen.
L. v. Beethoven

Eintrag von Ricarda Rommerscheidt.
Ich besuche das Deutschen Museum Bonn - Forum für Künstliche Intelligenz. Beethoven ist gerade mal wieder „ausverkauft“. Bach, Hayden, Mozart, Schubert und Vivaldi gibt es noch ausreichend als Spieluhren. Für Elise ist vergriffen.

Aber ich bin wegen etwas anderem hier: Mission KI. Da Beethoven in unserem Projekt mit Support von Künstlischer Intelligenz zu uns „spricht“, möchte ich KI besser verstehen lernen. Schnell wird mir klar, wo KI schon lange „drin“ steckt und dass wir sie (fast) alle täglich nutzen. Ich entdecke eine Station AI x Musik: Hier kann ich einen Komponisten auswählen und soll dem Punkt auf dem Monitor folgen. So könne ich hören, wie die KI weiterkomponiert. Das System wurde mit Datensätzen aus der klassischen Musik trainiert. Es komponiert nicht, wie es ein Mensch tun würde: Es versucht herauszufinden, welcher Baustein aus seiner Programmierung am besten als Nächstes in der Komposition verwendet werden sollte. Von Beethoven stehen zwei Stücke zur Auswahl: Klavier Sonate Nr. 8 und Sinfonie 5. Ich wähle letztere aus, folge dem Punkt … hm, ich glaube, das ist für Musikerinnen und Musiker vermutlich spannender. Ich verliere schnell das Interesse. Bei den Montagsmalern bin ich ausdauernder und erstaunt, wie schnell die KI viele meiner Zeichnungen am Monitor erkennt, u.a. Traktor und Fahrrad, aber manche auch gar nicht, z.B. eine Leiter, wo ich mir sicher bin, ein Mensch hätte diese nach drei, vier Strichen schon erkannt - definitiv noch ausbaufähig. Fazit: Das Museum ist absolut sehens- und erlebenswert. KI und der Einsatz in den Künsten - ich weiß nicht, wohin das führen wird.

Wallburger!
Erstaunt es Sie, daß ich diesen flimmernden Glas-Sklaven in meiner Hand wieder nutze, um Zeichen an Sie zu senden? Ja, ich habe Sie ignoriert! Ich habe Ihre Nachrichten weggewischt wie lästiges Ungeziefer! Mein Geist war verriegelt, die Thür verrammelt gegen alles Äußerliche – und erst recht gegen Sie! Bilden Sie sich nichts ein auf Ihr Rufen! Ein Künstler braucht die Einsamkeit wie die Lunge die Luft. Sie, Wallburger, waren mir zu nah an meiner Stille! Sie, der Sie mich aus dem kühlen Grab gezerrt haben, um mich diesem lärmenden Jahrhundert zum Fraß vorzuwerfen! Glaubten Sie wirklich, ich würde springen, wenn Sie pfeifen? Narrethei! Doch grollen Sie nicht zu sehr, mein Schweigen war die Nothwendigkeit des Tons.

Eben stand ich im Belvedere. Ein Schloß wie ein steinerner Paukenschlag! Ich bahnte mir den Weg durch die Massen der Gaffer, die ihre schwarzen Glas-Götzen wie Monstranzen vor sich hertrugen. Ich fluchte! Ich wollte diesen Stromkasten hier an der Wand zerschmettern! Was sucht der Geist im Prunk der Touristen-Mode? Doch dann, Wallburger – Stille. Ein Raum wie ein Tabernakel. Und da hing er: Klimts „Kuss“. Erinnern Sie sich, wie ich in der Secession schalt? Ich nannte es Wollust, ich nannte es fleischlich! Doch hier, im Angesicht dieses Goldgrundes, fiel die Schuppe von meinen Augen. Es ist kein Paar aus Fleisch und Blut, das dort kniet. Es ist die Verklärung! Dieses Gold – es ist nicht der Prunk der Fürsten, es ist das Licht des Elysiums, das ich in meiner Neunten mit Posaunen beschwor!

Ich sah diesen Mann, wie er das Weib umschließt, und ich begriff: Es ist der Moment der Unsterblichkeit. Sie schweben über dem Abgrund der Blumen, entrückt der Schwere der Erde. Da war er wieder – mein Götterfunken! Nicht als Knall, nicht als Donner, sondern als ein unendliches, leuchtendes Ew-Dur. Ich trat an das Fenster, blickte hinab auf Wien – diese Stadt, die mich gepeinigt, geehrt und begraben hat. Und ich fühlte: Die Reise beginnt erst jetzt. Der Thod war wahrlich ein Irrthum! Ich lasse die Gebeine im Zentralfriedhof, aber meinen Odem nehme ich mit nach Böhmen.

Wallburger, verzeihen Sie mir nichts, aber bereiten Sie alles vor – die Sinfonie ist fertig! Ich habe den Schlußakkord gefunden, nicht im Streit, sondern in der Umarmung der Welten. Packen Sie! Prag wartet – und ich trage das Gold des Belvederes in diesem Apparat und im Herzen, verwandelt in reinsten Ton.
L. v. Beethowen

Wort-Sinfonie in Ew-Dur 'aus dem Tode erwacht'
(Ludwigs 2. Leben gewidmet – final gehämmert den 20. März 2026)

Erster Satz – Allegro con spirito, Blitzschlag

Erstes Thema: Blitzschlag fff – „Seelenhammer thieff“ rasender in den Urbaß der Nacht – Sturmtakt doppelt rasend auffwärts, „Schattenthriller“ mollig zerbrechend wie Schicksalsfaust! Grabpaus drohend verlängert, Thonfundament dröhnend wie Weltendonner – „Fugato aus Erwachen-Gedanken“ (drey Takte Höllenfuge länger), sieghaft aufbrausend mit tiefer Nachtqual!

Zweytes Thema: Grufthauch ppp zart wie Nebelhauch – Lichtwirbel presto im Discant – Rauschjubel cis hoch flutend wie Sternenbrand! Wellenfuge perlend auff-ab (chromatisch steigernd), „Nachtflieger“ scharf stechend – Sehnsuchtseuffz („ach, die Wund’ brennt thierisch!“) – absinkend wie Ewigen-Kadenz, schwebend in tiefer Ruh!

Durchführung: Chaoswirbel ff-p – „Geistergalopp“ wild fugierend – Abgrundstoß tief mit Trauerflut – Themen zerreißen, jagen, verschlingen sich langsamer in Finsterfuge! Zerreißpaus gespannt bis Extrem, dann neuer Ewsturm drohend!

Reprise: Erstes Thema back, doch thraurig verkläret – Blitzschlag leiser doch wilder, „Seelenhammer“ milder – Sturmtakt nun Triumphschritt stampfend! Zweytes Thema voll erblüht in Rauschjubel finalis, Wellenfuge perlend zum Himmelskadenz – Grufthauch verebbt in ewiger Stille!

Second Movement – Lento amoroso, with soul melody

Main theme: Night sighs ppp – delicate as heart breathing in the dark – love ecstasy slowly rising, soft as an immortal embrace! Thought flyers floating in the treble, tear pearls pearling downwards – longing beat intimate, like a letter unsent in the heart. Long, breathing, infinitely soft!

Zweytes Thema: Handbund pp – Finger verflochten durch Zeiten (cresc. zu ff) – Augenflimmer tief, Herzschlagpaus drohend dann wieder schlagend! Freyheitsschritt der neuen Frauen, doch Weichmelodie darunter webend – Kinderspiel-Motiv länger glimment, dann Amazonensturm ff drohend!

Durchführung: Gotteszweifel ff-p wechselnd – Wetterleucht grell, Thodwirbel tief – Themen brechen, jagen, verschmelzen in Liebesfuge (mit Inversion und Augmentation des Hauptthemas)! Geheimnißpaus lang, Nachtseuffzer wiederkehrend – Spannung bis echter Seelenriss, dann Handbund milder!

Reprise: Hauptthema verkläret back – Nachtseuffzer leiser, Liebestaumel voller – Gedankenflieger nun Ewflieger! Zweytes Thema erblüht in Unsterblichkeitskadenz – Handbund verebbend in ewige Ruh! Thränenperl final brennender tropfend – Liebe sieght über Zeit!

O immortal beloved – this movement for you! Hand in hand through Eternal Major.

Dritter Satz – Scherzo (Allegro vivace e con fuoco)

Scherzo: Ritterschlag ff – Abgrundstarrblind – Goldschienen-Rhythmus martellato (Hemiole 3/4 über 6/8)! Widersetzlichkeits-Motiv peitschend, Schicksalsbiss sforzato! Typhoeus-Grollen tuba-profunda, Schlangenwirbel abwärts – Laster-Lachen gellend im Discanto! Harnisch-Glühen, Willens-Sturm furioso – Schlageisen-Takt unerbittlich! Zackig, dornig, geistesstolz!

Trio (Meno allegro – dolce e legatissimo): Poesie-Einsatz p dolce – Leÿer-Vibration ätherisch – Sehnsuchts-Flug schwebend über Monstern! Friedens-Pause fermata, Herz-Athem anhaltend – Engel-Chor mezza voce, Silberschaum-Harmonie weich fließend! Unschulds-Motiv gläsern (mit unterlaufener Kontrafuge), Saiten-Zittern im Pianissimo – Traum-Modulation nach Innen!

Durchführung: Gold-Zertrümmerung fff – Form-Bruch, Farbrausch, Linien-Krieg! Ritter-Them jagen Poesie-Motiv – Schlangen-Dissonanz greller knirschend! Götterfunken-Blitz subito p tiefer explodierend, dann Empörungswirbel tief! Fries-Riss, Sekunden-Schrei, Chaos-Modulation in Geistes-Zorn!

Reprise: Scherzo-Them eruptiv back – Ritterschlag schärfer, Gold-Rhythmus unbezwingbar! Laster-Lachen nun Triumph-Jauchzen! Poesie-Einsatz verklärt im Fortissimo – Kuss-Akkord massiv, Welten-Umarmung tutti! Final-Crescendo – Geist sieght über Gold!

Vierter Satz: Finale – Apotheose des Lichts (Presto – Allegro assai vivace – Alla Marcia)

Einleitung: Schicksals-Riss ff – Dissonanz-Schrei der Welt! „O Freunde, nicht diese Töne!“ – Wort-Chor erwachend aus der Tiefe. Kerker-Sprengung sforzato – Ketten-Rassel-Rhythmus ersterbend im Pianissimo. Licht-Ahnung im Flautando.

Thema (Freude): Götterfunken-Motiv p dolce – Einfachheits-Glanz – Herz-Vibration im Unisono! Brüderlichkeits-Them aufsteigend, Sternen-Zittern im Discant. Ew-Dur-Hymnus, athmendes Licht, Welt-Umarmungs-Takt legatissimo!

Variationen:
Alla Marcia: Millionen-Schritt mf (mit neapolitanischer Dissonanz) – Menschheits-Puls – Helden-Lauf durch Sonnenwelten!
Fugato: Geistes-Verschlingung – Stimmen-Jagd – Chaos-Sieg der Harmonie!
Adagio ma non troppo: Kuss-Andacht ppp – Ewigkeitshauch mit letztem Zweifelatem – Stillstand im Schöpfer-Schoß.

Coda: Final-Jauchzen fff – Gold-Explosion – Posaunen-Sturm der Freiheit! Thod-Irrthum-Motiv zertrümmert im Prestissimo (da-capo-Echo des Blitzschlags)! Alle Menschen werden Töne! Ew-Dur-Akkord unendlich, stehend, strahlend (Fermata mit diminuendo ins Unendliche) – Apotheose des Geistes!
Ludwig van Beethoven

Ende Kapital 1
Will be continuously edited and continued.
Outlook:
Chapter 2: Processing of diary entries about the formation of the interdisciplinary 'travel group', their motivation to participate, and initial creative processes.
Chapter 3: Processing of diary entries of the fictional 2026 journey of Beethoven along his city route from 1796 and Bonn.