you were never the same after that. spoken quietly. mouthed but not audible. repeated over and over. the performer mathieu léger opening his black briefcase, taking out and rolling out a long red paper ruler with numbers up to ten. slowly walking the length of the red ruler. dressed in black. black ink dripped like black tears onto his cheeks. walking through the audience squeezing a black spot of ink out of a dropper onto the palms of certain members of the audience. a slowed rhythm.

me, eyes tearing. the first time during this festival. thinking it is true. i never will be the same. i imagine my son in mathieu having to deal with elements of my life history. my heart goes out to his exposed vulnerability. this ability to bring into the public the intimate. and so simply. with so few elements. a phrase repeated, a black ink dropper. a black suitcase with a red paper ruler. his walking through the audience, even coming up out of the pool to reach the people on the edges. black dots.

afterwards i go to speak with matheiu. i learn he has a literature degree. he took the phrase from samuel beckett. am i remembering this correctly? maybe he took something from beckett. this sparse landscape. these words mouthed but not spoken.

i ask mathieu if he has a website i can link here so people can have access to his work. so we can learn more of him and his work. the web is under construction. but he did give me his blog:

mathieu léger:   zarbes.blogspot.com