
They still exist. Rooms that remain incognito, waiting to be discovered, or that are already being used quietly like a well-kept secret.
One such place – how could it be better – is right above our heads. An attic, unused, with its typical smell of old beams and adventure. This is not a place where you want to hang your laundry. Pots and bowls catch the rainwater. Chipboard covers broken wooden floorboards. With every step, dust swirls up to your knees. A mummified pigeon serves as a totem for this place.
In the summer of 2024 we started making collages from advertisement posters in our attic atelier. We searched for motifs in the piles of posters we collected from Berlin billboards. Several layers of posters were often stuck on top of each other, so that we had to soak them in water before being able to carefully peel off the layers.
The allure of the hidden was literally in our hands: colors, shapes, typography waiting to be revealed. Just as André Breton described décollage in his 1938 Dictionnaire du Surréalisme: ‘[...] tearing down a poster to reveal fragments of the poster or posters underneath, and experimenting with the alienating or confusing effect of the whole.’
Until the last light of summer and for as long as the autumn temperatures permitted, we created collages in the attic. Ultimately, we sealed the surfaces with a layer of dammar resin varnish. That marked the completion of the work. For the time being. The idea of an exhibition already begun to germinate in the dark winter months. But the artworks needed a title.
Since we kept coming across poetry in the poster fragments, we decided to reproduce it in the form of haikus. This is a Japanese form of poetry consisting of three lines with 5, 7 and 5 syllables respectively. In their condensed form, we captured our urge for associative expression in relation to what we saw in each work. A projection. A sketch of self-reflection. Through us, onto the work and reflected back again, put into words. Fragments of introspection. A contemplation of what already exists, revealed in a new light.
Michael Wismar and Eleonora Paradise

Eleonora Paradise
La Concezione, 2024
42 × 62 × 3 cm

Michael Wismar
Haiku Nulla, 2024
85,5 × 80 × 3 cm

Michael Wismar
Haiku I, 2024
120 × 75 × 6 cm

Eleonora Paradise
Haiku II, 2024
75 × 65 × 2,5 cm

Eleonora Paradise
Haiku III, 2024
40 × 30 × 3 cm

Eleonora Paradise
Haiku IX, 2024
51 × 37 × 3,5 cm

Michael Wismar
Haiku IV, 2024
40 × 40 × 4 cm

Michael Wismar
Haiku VII, 2024
40 × 40 × 4 cm

Michael Wismar
Haiku V, 2024
103 × 72 × 3 cm

Eleonora Paradise
Haiku XI, 2024
91 × 110 × 2,5 cm

Michael Wismar
Haiku VI, 2024
40 × 53 × 3,5 cm

Michael Wismar
Haiku VIII, 2024
80 × 85 × 2 cm

Michael Wismar
Haiku X, 2024
50 × 60 × 5 cm

Michael Wismar
Haiku XIII, 2024
80 × 111 × 5 cm

Michael Wismar
Haiku XIV, 2024
83 × 62 × 3 cm

Michael Wismar
Haiku XVI, 2024
112 × 81 × 4,5 cm

Eleonora Paradise
Haiku XVII, 2024
103 × 72 × 3 cm

Eleonora Paradise
Haiku XII, 2024
42 × 32 × 3 cm

Eleonora Paradise
Haiku XVIII, 2024
66 × 60 × 3 cm

Eleonora Paradise
Haiku XV, 2024
66 × 60 × 3 cm

Michael Wismar
Haiku XIX, 2024
62 × 83 × 3 cm

Michael Wismar
Haiku XX, 2024
53 × 72 × 3 cm

Michael Wismar
Haiku XXI, 2024
40 × 60 × 5 cm

Michael Wismar
HAIKU XXII, 2025
40 × 40 × 2 cm

Eleonora Paradise
HAIKU XXIII, 2025
50 × 50 × 2 cm

Michael Wismar
HAIKU XXIV, 2025
40 × 40 × 2 cm

Eleonora Paradise
HAIKU XXVII, 2025
40 × 40 × 2 cm

Eleonora Paradise
HAIKU XXXIII, 2025
50 × 60 × 2 cm

Eleonora Paradise
HAIKU XXXV, 2025
30 × 40 × 2 cm

Michael Wismar
HAIKU XXXVIII, 2025
50 × 60 × 2 cm

Michael Wismar
HAIKU XXXIV, 2025
50 × 60 × 2 cm

Michael Wismar
HAIKU XXXX, 2025
50 × 60 × 2 cm

Michael Wismar
HAIKU XXX, 2025
30 × 40 × 2 cm

Eleonora Paradise
HAIKU XXV, 2025
50 × 50 × 2 cm
They still exist. Rooms that remain incognito, waiting to be discovered, or that are already being used quietly like a well-kept secret.
One such place – how could it be better – is right above our heads. An attic, unused, with its typical smell of old beams and adventure. This is not a place where you want to hang your laundry. Pots and bowls catch the rainwater. Chipboard covers broken wooden floorboards. With every step, dust swirls up to your knees. A mummified pigeon serves as a totem for this place.
In the summer of 2024 we started making collages from advertisement posters in our attic atelier. We searched for motifs in the piles of posters we collected from Berlin billboards. Several layers of posters were often stuck on top of each other, so that we had to soak them in water before being able to carefully peel off the layers.
The allure of the hidden was literally in our hands: colors, shapes, typography waiting to be revealed. Just as André Breton described décollage in his 1938 Dictionnaire du Surréalisme: ‘[...] tearing down a poster to reveal fragments of the poster or posters underneath, and experimenting with the alienating or confusing effect of the whole.’
Until the last light of summer and for as long as the autumn temperatures permitted, we created collages in the attic. Ultimately, we sealed the surfaces with a layer of dammar resin varnish. That marked the completion of the work. For the time being. The idea of an exhibition already begun to germinate in the dark winter months. But the artworks needed a title.
Since we kept coming across poetry in the poster fragments, we decided to reproduce it in the form of haikus. This is a Japanese form of poetry consisting of three lines with 5, 7 and 5 syllables respectively. In their condensed form, we captured our urge for associative expression in relation to what we saw in each work. A projection. A sketch of self-reflection. Through us, onto the work and reflected back again, put into words. Fragments of introspection. A contemplation of what already exists, revealed in a new light.
Michael Wismar and Eleonora Paradise

Eleonora Paradise
La Concezione, 2024
42 × 62 × 3 cm

Michael Wismar
Haiku Nulla, 2024
85,5 × 80 × 3 cm

Michael Wismar
Haiku I, 2024
120 × 75 × 6 cm

Eleonora Paradise
Haiku II, 2024
75 × 65 × 2,5 cm

Eleonora Paradise
Haiku III, 2024
40 × 30 × 3 cm

Michael Wismar
Haiku IV, 2024
40 × 40 × 4 cm

Michael Wismar
Haiku V, 2024
103 × 72 × 3 cm

Michael Wismar
Haiku VI, 2024
40 × 53 × 3,5 cm

Michael Wismar
Haiku VII, 2024
40 × 40 × 4 cm

Michael Wismar
Haiku VIII, 2024
80 × 85 × 2 cm

Eleonora Paradise
Haiku IX, 2024
51 × 37 × 3,5 cm

Michael Wismar
Haiku X, 2024
50 × 60 × 5 cm

Eleonora Paradise
Haiku XI, 2024
91 × 110 × 2,5 cm

Eleonora Paradise
Haiku XII, 2024
42 × 32 × 3 cm

Michael Wismar
Haiku XIII, 2024
80 × 111 × 5 cm

Michael Wismar
Haiku XIV, 2024
83 × 62 × 3 cm

Eleonora Paradise
Haiku XV, 2024
66 × 60 × 3 cm

Michael Wismar
Haiku XVI, 2024
112 × 81 × 4,5 cm

Eleonora Paradise
Haiku XVII, 2024
103 × 72 × 3 cm

Eleonora Paradise
Haiku XVIII, 2024
66 × 60 × 3 cm

Michael Wismar
Haiku XIX, 2024
62 × 83 × 3 cm

Michael Wismar
Haiku XX, 2024
53 × 72 × 3 cm

Michael Wismar
Haiku XXI, 2024
40 × 60 × 5 cm