It was spring 2005. I made a silicone stamp in the shape of a hare and wanted to print a thousand hares on paper for the Baltic graphic art project "Now art now future". The stamping didn't work - the stamped hares didn't look good. So I washed the ink off the stamp and began to examine the silicone hare itself closely for defects. I patted his paws, tried to bend his elastic ears, and threw him on the table a few times, watching his tail shake with the impact. The silicone rabbit was fun to play with because it didn't give up - you put your finger down its ear, but as soon as you let go, it puts it back up. So the unlikely stamp became the perfect silicone puppet.
 Soon other equally hardy silicone hare peers appeared: the raccoon, the wolf, the male frog and the dude. All of them became the heroes of the first play with the long and bold title "Don't Bite Me!" - declared the hardy bunny".
 The puppets took on the physical properties of silicone - endurance and flexibility. In every performance, they demonstrate these qualities, showing the audience exercises to help them survive in everyday life.
 In this way, silicone became psy silicone - the puppets, by moving their elastic bodies, actually exercise and toughen the soul of the spectator (psyche gr. soula).
In five years, the Psilikon Theatre has created 10 performances, which have been shown in Lithuania and abroad.
In English, German, Swedish, Russian and Italian, with live music ranging from classical guitar solos to chamber orchestra.
In the past, Psilikon's Theatre would catch people in places untouched by the arts, and they would accidentally become spectators. We used to show performances to half-naked audiences who were up to their necks in a bubbling pool. In the courtyards of apartment blocks, the patrons of the local beer kiosk would become our spectators, after they'd downed a few pints. 
Now we've stopped the harassment. We are waiting for the audience to come to the performance themselves. Those who come themselves are, of course, the best spectators - cultured, who have seen and heard a lot, and who are looking for something they have not seen before. But we miss the audiences we used to meet by chance - the ones who don't go to the theatre, who never think about art, but live with a taste for life and a sense of humour. I would like them to come, because we have learned from them and they have contributed a lot to make Psilikon Theatre what it is.