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ABOUT
WITH THE DANUBE is the title of the project I conceived and currently work on, a piece for soprano, orchestra, electronic music and two performers – with a river. The result might be called a piece, a scenic assemblage or a performative ecosystem. It will be realised in the Wiener Konzerthaus on 30 October 2026, for the opening of the festival Wien Modern. The co-creative process involves a number of collaborators, both human and more-than-human. I share this process with a collaborative group of human artists with whom I enjoy a long working relationship: with soprano Juliet Fraser, performers Elie Halonen and Satu Hakamäki, and scenographer Lisa Horvath. The orchestra will be the RSO Radio Symphony Orchestra Vienna, conducted by Irene Delgado-Jiménez.
The fluvial landscape in the National Park Donau-Auen (all fotos by Pia Palme)
The idea of a multispecies composition with the Danube River has matured in my mind for quite some time. In my understanding, a river is alive – a living landscape, a complex ecosystem. A multiplicity of life interacts with me as I interact with it. My body interacts with their body. Is it possible to co-create or co-compose music with a living fluvial landscape? How could the Danube River become an artistic collaborator on an equal level, rather than an inspiration or background for “my” work? In conversation with Bernhard Günther, the artistic director of the festival wienmodern, a plan emerged along with a realistic opportunity to perform such a work.
WITH THE DANUBE will be composed with the river. Not about the river, not inspired by the river, but with the river. The Danube River is not scenery, it is a living landscape, a complex ecosystem, a multiplicity of forces, beings, temporalities and presences. They ( I prefer to address the Danube as “they”) are an active, dynamic body of water, microorganisms, plants, animals, anorganic materials, currents, histories and sediments, and more-than-human infrastructures.
A delicate artwork created by the last high water. Flotsam and debris were caught by trees and bushes. Some of these “kinetic sculptures” are quite small, like this one.
Exploring how to compose with a river this is a process of learning-by-doing. It develops in unknown directions. Yes, I do take responsibility for my part as a co-composer. The process is a very personal one. This piece is my first work for big orchestra and also my first work with a river as collaborator. I’m learning to listen into the Danube. What does the Danube tell me, what does it want (from the orchestra and the singer)? For me, this requires listening into the landscape, underneath the surface of the visible and into the sedimented history of the river. There is something else that I perceive beyond the sounds and noises that come directly the river. This is not (only) about taking field recordings.
The sounds of the river are not what the river wants to communicate as a living being.
The sounds that come from my body are not what I want to communicate as a living being.
In the context of the practice of co-creation with a river – Rosi Braidotti’s small booklet Posthuman Knowledge & the Critical Post-Humanities (2019, Harvard Design Press and Sternberg Press) is a source of inspiration. She writes that, in our effort to find alternatives, “‘we’ need a new collective subject, a ‘we’-are-in-this-together kind of subject” – but we are not one and the same. Nor are we in binary opposition. This is how I understand our collaboration with the Danube. We are different and we are in this process together. How can we – together – develop a set of attributes and musical terminologies, of meaningful sounds, noises, words? And how can we avoid the polarising between mourning and celebrating the current state of the world, and instead become open to a more diverse range of emotions?
April 2026
The artists arranging themselves with a tree,
fotos by Lisa Horvath [above] and Pia Palme [below]
In April, Elie Halonen, Satu Hakamäki, Juliet Fraser, Lisa Horvath and I met in Vienna for ten days, for our first group work period with a focus on research and development. A larger studio at the Zacherlfabrik art space functioned as our home base. Here, we experimented with movement, worked with sound and music, discussed and planned. Four days were dedicated to build a group relationship with the Danube River. We spent these days in the National Park region in Orth an der Donau. During two excursions we were guided by two experienced rangers, Alena Täubling and Manfred Rosenberger – many thanks to them for sharing their rich knowledge and experience with us! – we went hiking and paddling along the river. Later, we conduced artistic explorations on our own.
Satu Hakamäki tied by Elie Halonen dances with the Danube touching the river’s skin,
foto by Pia Palme
Is paddling with a boat to the suburbs of Bratislava artistic research? Yes, it is. To move with the river is the best way to learn about and with the river. It was also great to swim in the Danube and feel their string pull. We experienced that our relationship and understanding of the entire landscape changed in the process; that includes the city of Vienna as part of this ecosystem. Spending hours moving on and with the water, one’s perspective begins to shift. Observing the plants and animals along the way, they become kin.
It was this glorious time in spring where everything turns green and the forest becomes alive after winter. We spotted animals like beavers, turtles, kingfishers, eagles, storks and cormorants. The trees were beginning to unfold their leaves, the light green colour of fresh green permeated the forest. The snowdrops were gone and the blossoms of wild garlic were sprouting everywhere.
Elie Halonen and Satu Hakamäki performing with the Danube, foto by Pia Palme
We found that there is no direct translation of the old German word “Au” into English. The “Au” is the landscape directly next to the river, including various forms of forests, shores and islands, grassland, bodies of water, even manmade structures related to the river.
Periods of establishing a relationship with the landscape alternated with periods of artistic work. Although I the landscape is well known to me, I discovered knew details and connections. Exploring the landscape as a group was new. For me, a very interesting aspect of this research was the shift from a phase of experiencing and perceiving the river, of practising sensibility, to a phase of acting as an artist with the river. The transition between the two processes takes time; we found that it not could be rushed nor forced. A change in mind and body happened, a flip, a shift. We passed a threshold. We established a working basis with the river. We emerged as artists-with-beaver-minds.
Does the river ecosystem recognise our work, and how? Like the beaver’s work? Or the numerous birds singing in the forest? What is the difference between doing something “for” the Danube and “with” the Danube? How does the presence of the Danube influence our work?
Questions that frequently came up were about the kind of relationship we have as artists with the river landscape: how do we fit in, and how does our work fit into the Au? The river landscape feels complete in itself; why would one add something like a work of art to this world? And yet, the beavers add their works to the Au: we found numerous wooden “beaver sculptures” washed up on the shore. “Beaver sculpture” is a term we came to use for a piece of wood that is completely shaped by beavers, with all ends and surfaces processed by their teeth.
The black&white fotos show a performative improvisation by Elie Halonen and Satu Hakamäki at the waterline. The idea was to perform something in the transitional space where the water meets the shore. For the beginning, I recited a text that I had written with the river before. Juliet Fraser acted as our witness. Dancer Satu Hakamäki also moved within the river. It was a clear and fresh day in spring, with the afternoon sun low above the river. The water was very cold at this time – around 11° Celsius.
March 2026
A hint of spring is in the air, after some sunny days. The water level has gone down again, after the brief rise following the period of snowfall in February. I took these photos during two extended excursions into the Danube National Park in early March, as I was guided by the park rangers Alena Täubling and Manfred Rosenberger respectively, who shared their incredible knowledge about the landscape, its history, and their personal relationships with the river with me.
View of a side arm of the river near Orth an der Donau
An important part of the ancient history of the landscape is the Roman occupation and colonisation of the area around Vienna. Just recently, new parts of an extended Roman fort near the river were explored and mapped, deep in the forest.
Remnants of a Roman wall made from stone and cement, underneath a tree hung with biological debris from the last flood.
Another more recent critical time was the legendary “Besetzung der Hainburger Au” – the occupation of the river wetland Hainburger Au – in 1984. This was an initiative to ward off the government’s plan to build a hydroelectric power plant right in this area, downstream from Vienna, just before the state border. An outcry by environmental and nature protection groups caused nationwide protests that were supported by a growing number of Austrian citizens, both in the city of Vienna and in rural regions and farmlands. The protests surged when site-clearing began in the forest and the first trees were felled. The protest movement was successful and the Austrian Supreme Court halted the construction work.
During the political discussions and negotiations that followed, the plans to build a dam and power plant were stopped and later eliminated. After a national referendum calling for the preservation of the landscape, the Donau-Auen National Park was established in 1996 (see under https://www.donauauen.at/en/facts/history/the-path-to-becoming-a-national-park).
Learning from the river with these experienced guides was an important and intense experience that again influences my artistic work. When I’m back on my desk to compose and write, the river is present. I’m not alone.
February 2026
Recent snowfall brings more meltwater into the river
February was a cold, dark and foggy month that also brought a surprising amount of snow to Vienna, quite unexpectedly. Only now, at the very last days, sunshine breaks through the clouds and it gets warmer rapidly. Too warm actually. What a contrast.
Life-size replica of a Danube sturgeon at the Park Centre in Orth an der Donau
About 30 kilometres downstream from Vienna, I visited the small town of Orth an der Donau and its historic castle, which houses the National Park’s visitor centre — still closed for the winter. An imposing replica of the now-extinct Danube sturgeon stands in the courtyard. Less than 150 years ago, these great fish moved through the river in astonishing abundance. They have done so for thousands of years. Then we intervened. We dammed the waters to harness electricity, and the sturgeon disappeared. What have we done? I imagine the river remembers. I imagine the Danube grieving the loss of their silvery giants. What kind of lament do you sing, Danube, for the many beings that we have destroyed?
In the park surrounding the castle, a magnificent old plane tree rises above a girdle of snowdrops (Galanthus nivalis). Their long, knotty branches seem to stretch endlessly across the moss-covered lawn.
The shores of the Danube lie close by. A short walk brings me to the Orther Islands, a small cluster of reed-fringed islets with scattered trees along the river’s left bank. In summer, when the water level allows, people come here to enjoy the sun or shade and swim, drawn to the relaxing intimacy of the landscape.
The river always surprises me. It is different every time I visit. The water level is rather high this time, the Danube swiftly licks around the lower meadows. The forest floor is covered with snowdrops and wild garlic. We forage a handful of garlic leaves, the first of the season. Thank you, wetlands!
In the unusually warm weather, birds sing in the forest, accompanied by the occasional drumming of woodpeckers – and the distant noises of airplanes landing and departing from the airport across the river, upstream toward Vienna.
January 2026
This year, I will dedicate my time to explore how to co-create a piece of music with a river – with the Danube River.
I want to nourish and deepen a relationship with the charismatic river that runs through Vienna, the city where I live. I have known the Danube River since my childhood. The plan for this year is to create a larger composition for soprano, orchestra, two performers and electronics WITH THE DANUBE – that’s also the title of the piece. The music, text, scenography and performance are co-composed through an interactive and collaborative process that invites the river as a living being and co-creator. The project is designed to cultivate multispecies thinking and a co-creative relationship – or rather, partnership with a fluvial ecosystem. Such a relationship is not something I can decide for myself. The river must be asked, invited, and cared for.
How to care for a river?
In winter, beavers feast on the bark of newly felled trees
I’m delighted to announce that I have received a state scholarship in composition from the Republic of Austria for this work. This will enable me (us) to further deepen and expand the explorations. However, I am not the (only) composer or artist at work. I’m a partner, a co-composer working in collaboration with the Danube River as a living being and active partner.
The Danube River is a dynamic ecosystem and a living fluvial landscape. I approach it as a great powerful entity, a plurality with which I can interact as a human being. I communicate with the river, and vice versa the river communicates with me. This is a bodily form of communication. I am learning how to listen to/into the river.
What does the river want?
I belong to the Danube landscape. The city of Vienna and its people have been shaped by the river since its very beginning. It was the rich fluvial landscape that has attracted human beings to settle down at their shores, a long time ago.
The piece will not be “about” the river or “inspired by” the river, nor will it be composed or performed “on the shore of the beautiful blue Danube” (“An der schönen blauen Donau”).
Work and research have already begun in the spring of 2025. Over the last months, I have spent many days in the Donau-Auen National Park, a protected river landscape stretching from Vienna to Bratislava. The environments and forests along the river constantly change. These fotos are from an exploration in early January 2026, when I hiked towards the river from the small village Schönau an der Donau. In this region, the current month was very dry with rather low temperatures. The river has shrunk, the water level is extremely low.
The kinetic sculptures created by the big flood of September 2024 are still visible
I have visited the same spots, places and shores many times. By now, the landscape has become familiar – yet, every time it appears to be different. It looks and feels different. The Danube River is in a different state and mood. So am I, and our relationship is constantly changing, too. I have to get used to that.
All fotos by Pia Palme 2026
Donau-Auen National Park