Skip to main content
The event you were looking for has already taken place. Find many more events, tips and recommendations in Berlin's biggest event calendar on


what is childhood How much of it is retrospective transfiguration and how much of it is wishful thinking? "...and white liquorice made of lambskin" finds a variety of answers. Some of these have been inscribed in the play by adults, others are presented to children.

The music theater piece "...and white lambskin liquorice" by director Ulrike Ruf addresses the complex projection surfaces and dynamics of dealing with childhood as a phase of life on several levels.

Based on the cycle of poems »Zippelonika« by the Berlin poet Ulrike Almut Sandig, with music based on Iris ter Schiphorst, played and sung by the Berlin Girls Choir (director: Juliane Roever), the piece reflects on questions of independence and foreign determination in childhood.

Like no other phase of life, childhood is a projection screen for those who have outgrown it. It is often described as a carefree time, characterized by the freedom to play and to discover the world safely. Still far removed from the responsibilities of adulthood, she is transfigured into a paradise. Children are innocent because they are always wards. Children are "cute," "exhausting," or "loud," but they are also victims and sufferers of political or personal conflicts among adults.

»... and white lambskin liquorice« follows the tradition of stage plays with children for adults. As soon as children appear on stage as actors, this happens against the background of a long cultural history of depicting childhood and its discrepancy with (childlike) reality.

The Berlin girls' choir (conductor: Juliane Roever) takes on the role of both actor and attribution object in equal measure. A tableau of childhood scenes somewhere between dreamlike transfiguration and unfathomable reality forms the common thread for the full-length musical theatre. The story is about llamas, pixis, Zippelonikas and other characters that seem strangely familiar to us. Everything is changeable, constantly assuming different relationships with each other and yet is truthful in every moment.

In the stage design by Sabine Hilscher and in the choreography by Gabriel Galindez Cruz, the Berlin girls' choir, as a collective body, goes through several stages of a fictitious childhood. Sound and video define the church space as a framework set by adults. The scenes are deliberately dreamlike, vague and determined by an irrepressible play instinct, inspired by counting rhymes and clapping games that can be heard in schoolyards and playgrounds. At the same time, the reality of the diffuse experience of violence is noticeably present in the game.