At first glance, Free Willow appears to be just that—a willow tree, calmly rooted in place. But then it begins to move. Its long branches sway and swing in smooth, rhythmic gestures, as if stirred by some inner impulse rather than the wind. The motion feels deliberate, even expressive. It’s surprising—funny, almost unsettling—to watch a tree behave this way, as if it has decided to perform. Over the course of a day, these movements take on differ- ent qualities. At times, the branches shift so slowly that the motion registers almost subconsciously, like a presence felt more than seen. At other moments, the tree swings with abandon, wild and free, its gestures carrying a sense of release. At night, when illuminated, the willow transforms yet again: shadow, light, and movement interlace to create an image that borders on the surreal. Viewers often question what they are witnessing, uncertain whether they are seeing a tree at all or something altogether unfamiliar—an organism moving in ways they never imagined possible.

And in a sense, it is. Julius von Bismarck has quite literally given the willow a new freedom: beneath the surface, hidden from view, a motorized system sets the tree in motion, but the technology stays quietly out of sight. What the viewer sees is a tree apparently moving of its own volition, swaying not because of environmental forces, but because it can—because it wants to. In doing so, the tree upends our assumptions about agency, and control. With Free Willow, von Bismarck grants the tree the freedom to willow—to act, to dance, to be seen—not as passive land- scape, but as performer.