The entire floor of the Kunsthalle is covered with security tape, forming a labyrinth. It is set up in such a way that it covers the maximum possible distance from beginning to end. In this, it mimics the setup of queue dividers at airports, where travellers are often forced to walk unnecessarily long ways.
The audience is told that it can take part in a "performative tour", without being given further details.
The participants wait in front of the entrance to the galleries, with the security tape installation out of view. When the performance begins the group is led into the galleries through a narrow corridor. The incoming flow of people makes it hard to turn back and exit once entered. In this way the set up works as a kind of trap.
The "tour" consists of walking down the single, predefined path formed by the tape, while a scripted talk is stated by the artist.
The labyrinth to be completed leads through three long galleries. Accordingly the text is structured into three sections A, B and C. The layout of the Bundeskunsthalle is square and extensive, and, walking down the narrow paths, a sort of rhythm soon sets in. Instead of the anticipated fourth section and yet another part of the talk, a brass band suddenly appears at the end of the third section and starts to play.
Transcript of the talk
„Hello and welcome to my tour. My name is Christian Sievers. I am an artist, and I used to have this dream, where I'd do a performance in form of a tour, that would lead deeper and deeper into the forest, until everybody would be hopelessly lost.
Unfortunately we can't do that here. Instead I'd like to talk to you about control systems. Would you please follow me.
These here for example are queue dividers, crowd management systems as they're known in German. They make sure that things are in order. That you are queuing in an orderly manner, but also that all necessary steps are taken. They're very practical and have a direct effect on all those bodies that want to go somewhere.
These modern labyrinths are found in their clearest manifestation at airports. There they are clearly signifying something. And that something says: Here you're being bossed around. And if you want to fly today, you'll just have to let us do that to you.
I've often heard the claim that airports are the places where they deploy stuff for the first time and test it for acceptance, before rolling it out to the rest of the country later.
Sounds plausible to me.
Airports are the most heavily surveilled public places. You're used to being subject to special security measures there, and you put up with it. Here you can't do many things that would be completely unproblematic anywhere else. Try making a joke about bombs at the luggage screening line. It won't end well.
Try being ironic.
They'll probably misunderstand you. The staff doing the checks are being taught to take everything literally and misunderstand it. As a result, you're being careful. You're reserved and low-key.
And at least since the Snowden revelations we know that the special rules of the airport apply everywhere. The way you learnt to behave at airports is how you behave all the time now. No more careless jokes.
Mass surveillance is inescapable. You know that what do you via electronic means is possibly being recorded and kept forever.
Thinking about it, there are actually only a few things left, that are not done with some kind of electronic help: Not only is most of our communication run on some kind of network, but also paying for things, getting around, relaxation, entertainment, and so on.
And all that data is being kept. It might be useful some day. Big Data pays, for the marketing department as well as for the security services.
There are hardly any countermeasures that you can take. On the contrary, the more you know, the more concerned you'll become. That is intended by all means. What's so insidious about mass surveillance is that you change involuntarily, in spite of yourself. When you don't know whether you are under surveillance or not, you behave as if you are being watched. The technical term for this is "chilling effect.
There was an article in the news about this the other day, with the great headline: “We won’t be able to recognize ourselves.” 
(By the way, as you agreed, we're recording the performance here.)
So your behaviour changes, but even more so, the substance of your entire being. The deeper the awareness of your possibly being watched is anchored inside yourself, the more automatic the self-censorship. Those scissors in your head are more powerful and effective than any (governmental) censorship. And a lot cheaper, too.
Going back to the airport, I guess here lies the deeper reason for those tightened security measures. The objective is intimidation.
All of this is nothing new, I know. OK. We know.
But: Isn't it the problem with technology, that we never know how far it has progressed. Our daily lives are full of the stuff of Science Fiction novels. Even if something hasn't been invented yet, the emphasis is on 'yet'.
I'm asking myself, how can I keep myself from burying my head in the sand? Be informed without getting paralysed?”
“So why is it again that so few people protest against being controlled like this?
The problem seems to be that a general, undefined sense of insecurity has gripped us. As a result, any law and order rhetorics are met favourably, and many just don't see why the “spying scandal” should be a problem. It's all good for security.
Without wanting to get too dramatic, we do seem to be in the midst of another historical turning point, of the same size as the Industrial Revolution. That one was also driven by new technologies, and just like back then there is no way of predicting where all this is going to end.
There seem to be no more limits. It's the nature of networking. It's all connected.
I am always aware of the fact that my data can be gone, overnight. The same apparently applies to the so-called critical infrastructure. You hear that again and again about electricity suppliers, water utility companies, and so on. That's how well public order is secured here. Everything seems fragile.
The Communist Manifesto puts it this way: „All that is solid melts into air." (It doesn't sound as catchy in the original German, by the way.) Now all that was solid and reliable has long evaporated.
Zygmunt Bauman, the sociologist, talked about „liquid modernity” 15 years ago to describe this state of “everything in flux”. It seems to me that it's the dawning realisation of being completely and utterly at the mercy of something beyond our control that is the basis of the need for unyielding structures.
The response to the Liquid Modernity is a convulsive insistence on the status quo. Hardening and ossification. It’s being cemented with the help of all these shiny new repression and control tools.
How do you live with such an existential insecurity? You can't. Try not to think about it.
Or pretend otherwise. Start play-acting.
The term “Security Theater” has been coined to describe the measures introduced after Nine-Eleven. These are pointless security procedures undertaken just for the sake of being seen doing something. Producing the warm feeling that precautions are being taken. As if anything could be done. These measures are completely ineffective against the really bad guys. The traveller, to stick with the example of the airport, has no choice but to join the play. A drama with enforced audience participation. 
I would like to speculate some more and say, they're performing quasi-religious rites.  We're not as rational as we would like to think. This portal, through which everyone has to pass, that's a passage way. The security check is a kind of confession. You agree to be checked, to be able to feel exculpated from any suspicion. Finally not suspicious any more.
And the ritual disposal of liquids and sharp objects? What does that mean? Are these sacrificial offerings? To whom?
There are many other symbolic gestures. They permeate everyday life. One of my magic rituals, for example, is making backups of my data.
In former times I possibly would have prayed to a saint or god; today I feel protected, and delivered and secure, when I connect that external hard drive and use the graphical user interface. The more added redundancy, the greater the redemption. 
And here we come back full circle to this terrible mess we're in. That knowledge of being surveilled and controlled, and those scissors in your head. Maybe this is a first step towards an answer:
If magic rituals can deliver us from fear, then maybe also from the fear of the censor or your own permanent data trail. In that case, let's expand our repertoire of suitable magic rites. All in the rational knowledge that it'll do us good.”
"You know, it's not really about surveillance. We have much more important problems to solve. Climate change is in full swing. Increasing numbers of refugees are on the move around the world, while Europe is building a new insurmountable wall. The point is, we can't really have a productive conversation about these things in a chilled socio-political climate. We won't solve our problems if we can't talk freely about our ideas. We need the opposite of a chilling effect, what we need is warming up."
“To recap once again: Nothing is being left to chance any more. Everything is secured to the max and monitored and controlled.
We're lying to ourselves here. It's not really becoming more secure. Complete security is an illusion. A delusion!
I am an artist and no psychologist, but to me as a layperson it seems clear that all this pressure we put ourselves under leads to mental health issues.
Anxiety disorders are a big problem. That's when you can't get rid of the feeling of a terrible and unspecific threat. It comes in waves and attacks. There are cases where those affected by it are so paralysed by the fear of the next panic attack, that they stop being able to partake in society. They don't even manage to step outside the house.
These people need professional help, and yes, it is possible to help them. Therapy consists of systematic desensitisation. Do exactly what you're afraid of. In the beginning it's a challenge to walk down a street. They send them to get cigarettes, sedated and with one finger on the emergency number on speed dial. It gets better step by step.
You're cured, when you dare, with a sober mind and completely rationally, to do something really crazy in public. That's the therapy: attract attention with irrational behaviour.
And here we may have yet another possible fix!
We may see a lot more of this in future. And I'll be good for us, too. 
In the end, we're talking about art here. It seems to me that for many artists the motto holds true: You have to do what you're most afraid of. This is how the next thing to do reveals itself to you.
Playing safe just doesn't work in art. If I knew beforehand that something works, it wouldn't be a success. That would just be dishonest. Unfortunately, and luckily, you have put yourself on the line, time and again.
This is the fundamental difference to fear-driven security thinking. In art, if I don't risk complete and utter failure, I have failed before even starting. In fact, I have to set out to fail.
But every time, when it miraculously works against all odds, you realise: “Wow! so it's possible after all.” With a bang your operating range increases. And the room you're moving about in. In this, making art is always a liberation. And an emancipation.
I have one more scientifically unfounded speculation: I believe that art can work as an extension of the voyages of discovery that are part of childhood.
As a child you start with a tiny little radius, and growing up, you take over more and more new spaces, and freedom. This then becomes your world.
And then, growing up, this claiming of new fields slows down, and often stops completely. You unlearn how to take risks like you can forget the sense of amazement. Art can make it possible to continue that journey.“
Here the group reaches the end of section C. Behind the last corner the brass band appears and starts to play.
The audience is free to decide when and how to exit the galleries. They can either take a short cut by slipping under a last barrier, or choose to walk down the remaining lines ceremonially.
Site plan: A narrow corridor in the entrance area makes it difficult for the group streaming into the room to turn around. You are trapped. The barrier tapes are arranged so that the length of the labyrinth is as long as possible. This results in a distance to be covered of about 800m. The text performed is divided into three sections A, B and C; accordingly, there are three long halls. Instead of the expected fourth hall, a brass group surprisingly comes into action with the end of the recital after section C and musically accompanies the participants to freedom.