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A
This is where I need to check if Lena is more Bergyn or Berlin Philharmonic. But she'll tell you at the end of her nine months here, if I
B
showed any of this to my grandmother, what would she make out of it? Nothing. It's a very small scale. It's like 10 and 10 and 10. Just multiply it. 400,000.
A
I am super thrilled to be here with all of you this morning at the Hamburger Bahnhof on the cusp of Berlin Gallery weekend. And the greatest thrill and honor is of course being here with Lina, who has imbued this 25,000 square foot epic space with the most poetic living artwork. So, Lena, thrilled to be here with you today. And if I can just ask you to describe for this audience and for our listeners what those queuing up outside for the 10am opening might expect to see when they enter into. We make years out of hours today.
B
Well, I think the first thing they're going to experience is the smell, actually. So the first thing you experience is the smell of wood. And then when you enter the space, you see a space that's maybe a site of demolition, maybe the building site. And probably at some point later the space will be filled with people, some of them watching, some of them building. The soundtrack is playing the soundtrack of the playback that is actually accompanying performance songs that are happening four times a week.
A
So we had that performance yesterday. While there was a beautiful smell of the 400,000 wooden blocks, there was also something quite minecraft about the experience in terms of walking into a very analog space that slowed you down in the context of a hall that in the 19th century was a train station where people used to rush in the 20th century were encouraged to speed up even faster. Can you tell us about that dialogue you might have between the technological and the analog world?
B
Well, that was actually an accidental connection. I tested this idea with my kids and they were like, ah, but this is like Minecraft. I was like, oh, of course, of course, of course this is it. And then it actually, whenever I think about this image of like the screen being like analog, analog version of a game that is also for adults. And it's a bit like also it's very primal. Like the material is very basic. It's like raw wood, you know, like nothing additional is in this space, just the wood. And we developed it together with Sam. It was. It's so important that we keep it clean in what it is.
A
And people were world building, so there was actual physical movements.
B
So you kind of go back into your childhood as well. I Think of just scaled up a bit because the blocks are bigger as we as adults are a bit bigger. And then we have almost like a chance to rebuild. Like you go back to this primal thing and then you build again or you dismantle again, and then you build again and again. So there is. There is something quite meditative about it, but also like about rethinking.
A
And you've turned something that could be extractive into something very additive by bringing out a community of people who accompanied you on this work. And what you'll see when you see the performance is of course the beautiful sound of voices of a community that you engage through an open call which said if you can sing and you like singing with people where then you're already very well suited to collaborate on this work. Can you tell me how you built that world of voices, how that chorus came together to help you go further than you could go yourself?
B
So the invitation for performers was quite open. Like, I didn't look for, I don't know, like professional singers that can deliver a score because the score was also written like while knowing who will perform it. And then we received like 600 applications, which was incredible.
A
For how many spots?
B
24.
A
24.
B
So it was really like, it was mind blowing. I really did not expect that. And that also just shows what Berlin is like, what the capacity of artistic voices there are. And the call was open enough to really invite people from very different backgrounds, not necessarily even performance backgrounds. There were some friends of a friend who said, oh yeah, I'm a sailor and I'm just doing this because I like singing. And so we kind of gathered together these very different people because it was important to perhaps also have like a little picture of what Berlin is. And it's made out of people as well. You know, like incredible people that come from all over the world. So then we selected 24 and then they perform like in the groups of 12. And they will perform for the nine months, which is actually hard to imagine. It's the time of a baby. So we are kind of ready for being open to. For the space to evolve, for the performance to transform as well and for them. For people to transform while doing it for so long.
A
I'd love to turn to Berlin because you have taken this nine month gestation and actually turned it into a moment where you bring your own family here and to live in Berlin. Tell us how you have chosen to live in Berlin, what Berlin means to you. Has it been a welcoming city? And what do you love about Berlin?
B
Well, I Mean, all of a sudden, there were these beautiful coincidences that happened. So first I got a call from Sam to do this show. And later on, I received this Rebecca Juan fellowship in the DAD residency, which means I can suddenly, out of a sudden, I'm gonna live in Berlin for a year. And so it was an extremely warm welcome for me, I must say. Like, I was. You know, I lived in the rehearsal space for the last two months in the museum. So I don't really know what Berlin is, but what I feel that it's really, like, an exciting place for me to be.
A
And it's wonderful. You are, of course, a musician, a violinist, if I'm not mistaken. And here you are composing so far outside the concert hall. What is it like working with this symphony? And what are the rehearsals like? How is the composing around these 15 authors and poets that you have brought into the work? Can you tell us a bit about your process?
B
Well, so I think, for me, when I think about what music is, it is beyond sound. And when we talk about architecture, when we talk about performance, when we talk about the text, for me, this is all what music is. And so when people ask, oh, why did you turn away from music? And you turned into visual arts? No, I didn't turn away from music, actually. I think music is everything. And the process was very rewarding for myself. I had this vision that I would love to look into the world of today from the perspective of poets. The last couple of works that I did, I was like, oh, I'm not going to use language as such a tool for manipulation. I don't want to deal with it anymore. And, like, my last work called the Speech, where I work with a hundred children, they are just imitating animal sounds. And for me, it was a very powerful experience to have these kids just growing. And I think this is how we all feel in today's world. But then I was like, but poets have something to say about the situation. And then I had the chance to read a lot of poetry. And of course, it's like poetry for the last hundred years. And there were a lot of wars people went through. And, you know, and the poet can, like, in two sentences, describe where we are so perfectly well and where we will be as well. So I was like, I want to turn this into songs. And then we kind of meditate together on where we are and maybe, I don't know, like, maybe also bring some hope into humanity that, you know, if we. Even if everything is falling apart, if we hold on to each other and we are able to still be human, to still understand and to listen. Maybe we can still bring this place to a better future.
A
That's so poetic. I think of Gerhard Richter, Art is the greatest form of hope. And yesterday, as I looked across the wooden blocks, there was a singer, Yuri, I believe her name was. And I felt like she looked into my soul. There was something that was so magnetic. Before we move away from the work, was there anything that surprised you yesterday? For the first time, seeing how people actually engage so closely with your cast, with nature and this epic architecture of
B
a 100-year-old building were the work does is. First of all, people do know what to do. They come into a space and they start building. To my surprise, I thought, like, people will be a bit, like, critical about this, you know, and they will ignore, like, this possibility, but they don't. Also, everyone somehow really calms down. And I think that that's what I really wanted as well with this work, to, like, really calm down, listen, be with each other. And there are these moments of surprise. People just go like, oh, where are we? Because you're surrounded by singing voices and harmonies, and they're on the same level as you. So there is no stage, no, like, extraordinary. I don't know acrobatics or, like, virtuoso singing, but they're very close to you. And I feel that everyone that's in the space, like the audience members, they are with us. Like, we're together. And that's a beautiful feeling. And I also feel that the audience feels the same.
A
I definitely found myself in the audience with Marita Catalan and Udo Kittelman. And I thought, oh, my goodness, this is such a beautiful feeling, that pilgrimage that you have to make to actually come here. You have to get off the phone. You have nine months. Anybody listening, please make the trip. But there's something so intentional. I remember when I was running the Serpentine and we worked with Christo, and it was such a success. The Mastaba in Hyde Park. And we said, please, can we keep it up for another couple of months? And Christo said, nope. It's like a tent that goes up in the desert. You either have to be there to see it or you don't. And this is the beauty of the ephemeral work. Do you feel like that pilgrimage is part of an act of resistance? Showing up, being in the space, not just scrolling at it on your phone,
B
it is a call to action. But I think we are kind of maybe lacking a bit of, like, calm mindset. I don't Want to prescribe what people. People should or should not do. I think we all choose. I think if the work can inspire you to do something, I am happy. If the work can inspire you to do nothing, it's also. I'm happy, like just absorbing. Like, I think if I was coming into the space, I would just sit in the corner somewhere and just watch others doing things, which is also a way of experiencing this. So, yeah, I don't want to prescribe how people should behave. I think it's important that they calm down.
A
I love that connection. Also, Eileen Miles, Etel Adnan, some of the authors that you quote and the idea that every poem is an act of peace. So there's something incredibly poetic and unifying about it. I know that you do not look at your art through a gender lens, but because we are here, because Sam and Till have so radically given women the space through the Chanel Commission to occupy this space, and because Clara Hosnadlova last year did share with me that she found the space had an intensely male energy. I will just ask you if there's something about operating on such a big scale that you think particularly is appealing for women in this moment, or is it just a human desire to want to create in the largest possible platform?
B
Now, when you said about the scale, again, I was just thinking, actually it's a very small scale. It's like 10 and 10 on 10 just multiplied 400,000. So I actually like the small scale.
A
I love that this really does manifest the scale of human ideation, creation, ambition. You heard it here first, but Lina Lapili is just getting started. It's so beautiful how you are traveling your works around the world. But as I think about how universal some of these messages are, it brings me back to questioning whether there is anything specifically Lithuanian about the work as well.
B
Well, I try to think beyond gender, beyond nationality. But of course, like, as a body that can give birth and as a body that was born in specific country, I feel I. Yes, there is like, if I compose songs, I think I naturally go into like, specific methods of like, folk tradition. In Lithuania, we talked about suchartinas. Suchartinas, yes. This is a specific genre where you combine of different melodies and lines and texts together and they come into a unity of harmony. And the translation of Sutartinas is agreement. And I think it's. I only recently started to think of what it actually means. It's an agreement. So you put very different lines together that do not necessarily sound like they could come into one place. And when they do come into one place, they bring, like, this extraordinary harmony. So. Yes, but that's very intuitive, you know, I don't choose to, like, go, okay, I will cite suturtines in here because I'm Lithuanian.
A
No, but here we are. We all now know beautiful new Lithuanian folklore tradition.
B
I grew up with folk tradition. You know, my grandmother would sing around the table, so it's like, part of me, you know? So, of course, like, if I compose music like I do, blend.
A
You were singing yesterday. I saw you.
B
You did? Yeah.
A
You were among the performers. Absolutely. That was very special. When I think about the first harmonic work of yours, that came to my attention. It was 2013. It was not overtly folkloric because I think there were 10 cashiers.
B
Oh, yeah, yeah.
A
And maybe you could just share with this group what that work was like, because we all crowded around a screen to watch this video saying, who is this Lena? What are these cashiers doing in this magnificent harmony with checkout beeps and areas about routine labor and interior life?
B
So for me, actually, that work was very like, a transformative work in terms of what my practice was before I was trained as a violinist. So I played classical violin, and then I turned into, like, electronic noise, experimental music. And at some point I was like, but if I showed any of this to my grandmother, what would she make out of it? Nothing. Like, I was like, nothing she can get out of it. And then I was like, I would wish that my work could speak to more than the people who are, like, nerdy about sound. And this is how I started to look back into the song and have a good day. This work for 10 caches in the supermarket was like a transition for me to kind of start using melody again and using song and enjoy writing songs. And this is a collaborative work I did with Rugila Berjukaita and Vaiva Granita, with whom we later did the sun and Sea performance. The have a Good Day work is like an axis of my practice where I really started to work with performers. Large group of performers also sing myself because that was the only way I could show them what I want. And then suddenly I ended up singing, which I was very shy before, actually. I really had to transition from being mute to, like, opening my mouth and show people how to sing. Yeah. And then we felt that sun and Sea was actually like, almost like a part two of have a Good Day. Because have a Good Day. It looks into a cashier as a metaphor of a circle of buying and selling, which I think we all belong to and for us, it was important to kind of have this metaphoric figure, but to think of into capitalism at large and consumption as well. And then when we did sen and see, we were like, oh my God, we keep talking about consumption, but now from the lens of climate change.
A
So we'll get to sun and Sea in a moment because it is such a pinnacle. It was the golden lion winner. But Hunky Bluff was one moment that happened before that. It was mischievous, it was subversive, it was queer. And I wonder if before we move to sun and Sea, you tell us if there's any themes from Hunky Bluff that have also followed you in your journey.
B
Yeah. Hunky Bluff was also like a very special moment. I was approached by Lucia Pietro Youth in London when I was doing another work in the David Roberts Arts Foundation. At that time, they gave me the space for three days to do whatever I wanted. They said, okay, here's the space. Do your performative practice. And then Lucia came in and she was like, why don't you do a Serpentine Pavilion commission? I was like, oh, my God. Yes. I had this vision that I wanted to gather together a group of female voices that sound like men because I sang in the choir when I was a teenager and there was this one singer and she was always put into the man role because she had a lower voice and it was considered a bit weird. And I was like, actually, it's not. It's amazing. Why are we supposed to speak high if we are females? And why sopranos are so adored?
A
So you subverted the castrati in the female voice.
B
Why the female tenor is considered, like, strange. And then I gathered together, I made an audition for women who have a particularly low voice. And I think it was really like a queer piece where then the pieces that were singing were the remixes of the arias that were originally written for castrati singers. So male voices that are very high and then we turned them low, turned them into choirs, and it was performed by this group of very low voiced women.
A
It was an amazing moment at the 58th Venice Biennale. And I remember going to see your work at the Lithuanian Pavilion and finding it so extraordinary. And then coming back the next day after the whole Biennale was talking about this. And by that point the queue was so long that I was never going to catch my flight. The and so someone snuck me in as one of the performers. And that was a very special moment where they were like, she's got a slot at 3 o' clock and she has to perform now. And I felt so bad because half of Venice was there waiting to get into the Lithuanian pavilion. And what did everyone see when they walked into that Lithuanian pavilion? Because it was something that was so world changing. And that moment won you the golden lion at an extraordinarily young age. So please tell us sun and Sea.
B
Well, so now you talk about the cues. But I can see what I said to my performers when we were just opening the pavilion. We said, you have to learn for, sing for one person and find the meaning in that. Because no one is ever going to find the Lithuanian pavilion in Venice that is hidden somewhere in Castle Stello area in this military base that was never open for public. It was the first time they opened it up. So we were surrounded by soldiers all the time who were like, what is this group of people doing? Being naked all the time and singing like at 8am because the military people, they lived there as well. And then when we would do the warm up, they would go crazy. And then two days later to experience this queuing outside.
A
And there was sand. You walked in, you were in a beach you were looking at.
B
And then when you enter in, when you entered the pavilion. So in Venice you entered into this like abandoned inner courtyard of the military. And then you would go into the building and then climb up the stairs and then look down where you see enclosed beach and people singing and having sun bath time.
A
And they were singing these amazing personal tales. And it's been shared across so many art writers as Echo Grief. But you have your own interpretation. Can you share with us what they were singing about?
B
So we intentionally, with Viva Granita who wrote the text, we intentionally never used the word plastic in the piece. But every single story that that singers were delivering, they were like personal stories, but they would go into some climate awareness perhaps, or I would say ecology awareness at large. We said that sort of the access area in the piece is this workaholic song where he sings that.
A
Do you want to sing it for us?
B
The chorus line is like exhaustion, Exhaustion. Exhaustion. Exhaustion is like a mammoth, a non existent creature gone extinct. Encyclopedias, habit. But in life a thing you'll never meet and so on and so on. But he goes with this very low voice telling how exhausted he is and how he's too shy to tell to anyone and that how sometimes this exhaustion explodes. And we thought like this is a metaphor to the planet Earth, you know, like this exhausted planet that is being exhausted by the exhausted humans. So yeah, so the little stories in the libretto of the sun and Sea, they kind Of I think they're non linear. There is no like a sort of scenario where you would get a story at large, but it's a mosaic of perspectives where maybe makes one think.
A
And you also turned some words into a title and there was also a musical component to that. When the song came on last night, I could see the sparkle in your eyes. Can you tell us the title of this work? What it means to you? And do you start with the title? Do you end with the title? We make years out of hours. Where does that come from?
B
When I received this invitation, I was like, okay, so I will be working in Germany, in Berlin. What is the German song that I know that kind of. I relate to Jurgen Pepper and there's this.
A
Christina knows Jurgen Pepper. There we go. We have one nodding head in the audience.
B
So the soundtrack came into my mind and I was like, what is that song that I knew so well? At certain point in my life I need to listen back to it and then check what the lyrics are. And then one line really struck me and it said like, wirmachen jare austunden. And like, oh yeah, this is the title for the show. And. And I don't know, I think it's a nice sort of. It really worked. It just really was a meaningful phrase that I felt. It really fits this work. And yeah, that's the story.
A
This is where I need to check if Lena is more Bergijn or Berlin Philharmonic. But she'll tell you at the end of her nine months here. Maybe not just yet. It's a work in progress. Lena, I would love, because we are in our concluding moments together. It's been such fun maybe to do a quick fire round and to ask you things that are mattering most. And coming next, I'd love to hear what you're reading at the moment. In terms of poetry, of course. We know 15 poets works have imbued this work. Ocean, Vuong, Etel, Adnan. Maybe give us a moment of whose works have infused this Gesamtkunstwerk. And also what you're reading at the moment?
B
Well, I mean all the parts that. The names that you mentioned and then many more. I had a lot of pleasure to read a lot of poetry.
A
Are there friends, prospective collaborators, desired collaborators?
B
No, I think it's more like a picture of the world through poetry, I would say. So. I don't personally know any of the poets, actually. I do know a lot of poets
A
in my life, if you're listening.
B
But actually I was very keen to also have a line of Ocean Wong in the text. Because his latest book has a Lithuanian woman in it. So I was really like, there must be something. And his line is very beautiful in the text that we use. But I think poetry is a very special genre. I think it's a very niche genre as well, you know, because poets mostly, I think they write in their mother tongue, and then for the poetry to kind of become like a worldwide. You need to translate it, and then it becomes like, almost like another work. And. Yeah, but what I read in terms of literature, I think the last book that I wrote was like, Miranda July.
A
Oh, on all fours.
B
All fours, yes. Okay. There we go. I think. But I think not. Very true.
A
That's a very.
B
I think it really gives a perspective of the world and our rigidness into how we look into things. I really love that book.
A
What are you listening to at the moment? What would you like to be listening to at the moment? Maybe live
B
as we know Rosalia is coming to Berlin, and the entire.
A
Do you think she's coming to the Hamburger Bahnhof? Because wouldn't it be great if Rosaliea came to the Hamburger Bahnhof? Just putting it out there. We're here for the plot.
B
I would love that. I mean, she's such, like. I discovered her, like, few years back, and I was like, oh, my God, how come I didn't know about her? She's like. I also like her personality a lot. So, I mean, like, somehow this is all very connected, you know, that we're all in Berlin, the Berhein, you know,
A
like, la orte choreography.
B
I think we're absolutely, like.
A
Yeah, I think we're manifesting. When the student is ready, the teacher comes. What are you curious about? What's drawing your attention now? Analog. Digital.
B
Oh, absolutely. Analog. And connections. Connections. I'm so interested in human nature, actually. I'm just exploring all the time. And I'm just actually amazed how much power we have. Yesterday I talked with someone who said,
A
yeah,
B
like, I think he met, like, some guru or something, and he said, like, yeah, like, we have everything in here. And I'm just. Actually, I think I'm just looking into the world and into the humans, and I think we have it all. Like, we just need to trust it, and then it's just gonna happen. I am not a very pragmatic person, and things come together very intuitively, I would say. I learned also the piece of art. It dictates what it becomes later. And so I think I just keep learning and being open about things.
A
Leena, that feels like a very beautiful place to rest this conversation. The doors are heaving with people waiting to come in. It's 9:59 here in Berlin. But composer, producer, dreamer, please never change. Thank you so much for giving Berlin this extraordinary gift. And thank you for allowing us at Chanel to accompany us on this journey. Thank you so much.
B
Thank you.
Date: July 13, 2026
Location: Hamburger Bahnhof, Berlin
Host: Yana Peel, President of Arts, Culture & Heritage at CHANEL
Guest: Lina Lapelytė, artist and composer
This live episode, recorded at Berlin’s Hamburger Bahnhof during Berlin Gallery Weekend, features a passionate conversation between host Yana Peel and Lithuanian artist-composer Lina Lapelytė. The dialogue explores Lapelytė’s large-scale participatory installation “We Make Years Out of Hours,” her unique approach to community and performance, and a broader meditation on art, music, and collective experience. The episode weaves through Lapelytė's creative process, the significance of communal singing, her previous lauded works such as "Sun & Sea," and her deep reflections on poetry, identity, and human connection.
[01:09 – 01:46]
“The first thing you experience is the smell of wood… a site of demolition, maybe the building site.” – Lina Lapelytė [01:09]
[01:46 – 03:30]
“It’s very primal…just raw wood. Nothing additional… So you kind of go back into your childhood… rebuilt, dismantle, build again and again.” – Lina Lapelytė [02:19; 03:04]
[03:30 – 05:34]
“I didn’t look for professional singers… I wanted a little picture of what Berlin is. And it’s made out of people.” – Lina Lapelytė [04:02]
[05:34 – 06:30]
[06:30 – 09:01]
“I didn’t turn away from music, actually. I think music is everything.” – Lina Lapelytė [06:50]
[09:32 – 12:06]
“I don’t want to prescribe how people should behave. I think it’s important that they calm down.” – Lina Lapelytė [11:19]
[12:06 – 14:52]
“If I compose songs, I naturally go into specific methods of folk tradition… The translation of Sutartinės is ‘agreement’.” – Lina Lapelytė [13:41]
[15:10 – 19:54]
“If I showed any of this to my grandmother, what would she make out of it? Nothing.” – Lina Lapelytė [15:44]
[20:53 – 24:44]
“Exhaustion. Exhaustion is like a mammoth, a non-existent creature gone extinct…” – Lina Lapelytė [23:08], quoting from “Sun & Sea”
[24:44 – 25:41]
“You’re surrounded by singing voices and harmonies, and they’re on the same level as you. So there is no stage, no, like, extraordinary… virtuoso singing, but they’re very close to you. And I feel that… we’re together.” – Lina Lapelytė [09:32]
“If the work can inspire you to do something, I am happy. If the work can inspire you to do nothing, I’m also happy… Just absorbing.” – Lina Lapelytė [11:19]
“Sutartinės… You put very different lines together that do not necessarily sound like they could come into one place. And when they do… they bring, like, this extraordinary harmony. Agreement.” – Lina Lapelytė [13:41]
“It’s a very small scale. It’s like 10 and 10 on 10 just multiplied 400,000.” – Lina Lapelytė [12:58]
[25:41 – 29:51]
“I’m so interested in human nature… amazed how much power we have… Actually, I think I’m just looking into the world and into the humans, and I think we have it all.” – Lina Lapelytė [28:53]
This episode offers insight into the evolution of an artist exploring the boundaries of sound, community, and humanity. Lina Lapelytė’s humility and curiosity resonate through her commitment to collaboration, her return to melody and folk tradition, and her sensitivity to both the analog present and the digital future.
“I am not a very pragmatic person, and things come together very intuitively, I would say. I learned also the piece of art. It dictates what it becomes later. And so I think I just keep learning and being open about things.” – Lina Lapelytė [29:12]