It begins with bubbling colors and a man who is increasingly pursued by colours that splash onto house facades and by rivulets of colour that follow him like lava. The man hurries and stumbles on, looking around and behind him as if he feels pursued. The thriller intensifies. A brief stop at the subway, then it continues at breakneck speed through the streets of Berlin. He staggers and keeps running, stops briefly in the sunny park of Pfaueninsel, this beautiful jewel of the former Prussian imperial court far out on Wannsee, and runs on. The colours pursue him ever more intensely. Finally, he enters a studio, narrowly escaping the splashes of paint on the outside wall. But here, inside the studio, there are countless pots of paint, tubes of paint lying wildly on top of each other and a first moment of pleasant calm. He takes a short breath and then picks up a lump of brightly mixed paint. He holds it as if he is weighing up what to do with this dazzling pound…. You can already guess that the lump of paint will be hurled onto the still unfinished canvas leaning against the studio wall: onto this field of infinite possibilities, where the colours will cavort and spread out dynamically.