FEURIO!
BRUNO SILVA
24 pages, basic liner gray 100 g,
A4 variant (210 × 268 mm), softcover, thread-sewn binding.
Printed in Japan, 2025.
First Edition of 100
This publication is part of FEED
This publication is part of FEED
curated:
giovanni antignano ( zerofeedback )
editing:
giovanni antignano, bruno silva
design:
dstry evrtyng
In early 2023, I traveled to Berlin twice as part of an informal artistic residency. My proposal was to recreate the journey David Bowie made with Iggy Pop in the 1970s—traveling from Berlin to Warsaw—exploring both the literal and symbolic aspects of that trip. That period is often cited as pivotal in Bowie’s creative life, particularly in shaping the sound and mood of Low.
The first attempt, in February, was cut short. After about 100 km, near the border in Frankfurt (Oder), the train was forced to stop due to snow damage on the tracks. I had to return to Berlin and postpone the project, which I later completed in March.
With nearly two unscheduled days in the city, I wandered through Berlin during a snowstorm, camera in hand. Between bars and train rides, I spent hours photographing. One afternoon in Kreuzberg, I asked someone if they knew where Nick Cave had lived in the late ’80s. She turned out to be a fan too—and was intrigued by my camera, a Yashica Samurai.
Not long after, we found ourselves having a beer at Franken, a punk bar nearby. Einstürzende Neubauten came on the stereo. When I mentioned how much I loved their song “Feurio!”, I asked her what it meant. “Fire,” she said. Outside, it was still snowing heavily.
That night ended at a strange masquerade party, and we spent my last few hours in Berlin together.
Bruno Silva
The first attempt, in February, was cut short. After about 100 km, near the border in Frankfurt (Oder), the train was forced to stop due to snow damage on the tracks. I had to return to Berlin and postpone the project, which I later completed in March.
With nearly two unscheduled days in the city, I wandered through Berlin during a snowstorm, camera in hand. Between bars and train rides, I spent hours photographing. One afternoon in Kreuzberg, I asked someone if they knew where Nick Cave had lived in the late ’80s. She turned out to be a fan too—and was intrigued by my camera, a Yashica Samurai.
Not long after, we found ourselves having a beer at Franken, a punk bar nearby. Einstürzende Neubauten came on the stereo. When I mentioned how much I loved their song “Feurio!”, I asked her what it meant. “Fire,” she said. Outside, it was still snowing heavily.
That night ended at a strange masquerade party, and we spent my last few hours in Berlin together.
Bruno Silva