Between Heart and Hole, created and performed by Iacopo Loliva, had its German premiere at Hošek Contemporary from 2 to 4 April 2026. The piece expresses the disappointment of failed attempts at love while praising the reliable pleasure that a butthole provides.
Within my Berlin queer friend circles, it’s been the consensus for a long time that Berlin is a trash bin for dating. Does being in a trash bin mean that I am trash? Trash looking for uncomplicated fun from time to time, because I know there is nothing deeper to be found?
In the opening scene of Iacopo Loliva’s Between Heart and Hole, there is an obscure yet prominent presence at stage right. Under the dim blue light, I can’t quite make out what it is; it looks like a blank rectangle. Its surface is blue with occasional flickers. As Loliva dances, they often look at the rectangle, approach it as if being pulled, touch it… Remembering the multiple mentions of porn in the program note, I imagine it as a TV screen.
As the light becomes brighter, I see that the rectangle is the opening of a big trash bin, lying on its side. Loliva props the bin upright and searches for something impatiently. They toss aside unwanted objects—rolls of toilet paper, cartons of milk, a teddy bear, a bunch of flowers, and so on—until they find a white transparent dildo. With a triumphant smile, Loliva holds their prize up in the air and bangs it down onto the floor in sync with a dramatic black out. It lights up in multiple colors, and sacred choral music with a female vocal comes on.
Loliva then stages an exaggerated attempt at anal sex with the dildo. Wearing only a black jock strap, they crouch down, hovering their butthole over it. They stretch their mouth apart with both hands, as if it’s the butthole that needs to expand in order to take the silicone penis in. At first the trials seem to fail. Loliva spits onto the dildo. Then, they squeeze a lot of lube everywhere: on the fake dick, on their body, and all around and into their mouth. At one point, the large screen covering the back wall shows the inner parts of anus and rectum, perhaps hinting at the success of the penetration. Loliva pours milk over their whole body and the dildo, making it look like they are covered in cum.
Although Loliva declares that they choose their butthole over their heart, I sense their longing for something more as I listen to their pre-recorded narration. Their butthole has always been there for them, they say, and she is the only one with whom they can be in a straight monogamous relationship. Loliva then points to their heart as being “cute” but without much liveliness, as it’s been lied to too many times. “Both my heart and butthole make me bleed.” They ask if they should stand in the space between their heart and butthole, and if such a place exists.
As I look at the final image of Loliva lying beside the bin, their head inside its opening, I think of Berlin’s superficial sexual glamour, where pleasure is easy to find. It can feel like living in a porn where the channels can be switched at any time to different genres. When one is searching for love, however, Berlin can reveal itself to be a trash bin, a sad hole that engulfs one in detachment and resignation. In the program note, Loliva writes that the piece “is an invitation to question not only porn, but how we love and protect ourselves.” I wonder whether deliberately choosing carnal desire is a way to protect our hearts.
Between Heart and Hole by Iacopo Loliva had its German premiere at Hošek Contemporary from 2 to 4 April 2026.
