To see a Robert Lepage play is to enter into a vast network of correspondences.
Technological advancements become metaphors for social progress, which in turn reflect intimate stories, which in turn... such that reality, despite its apparent complexity, appears disarmingly simple to us.
Russian dolls of the spirit and mirrored labyrinths from which one comes out lighter and somehow untangled.
For us spectators, this is a special and subtle pleasure: the spectacle of our own unfolding intelligence as constellations of images sparkle with links Lepage invites us to connect.
This intelligence at work is precisely what I wanted to convey in my portrait of Robert Lepage.
The colours had to be cold because their backs are turned on affect.
His ambiguous Mona Lisa smile, with its slight smirk, hides the flashes of an extraordinary lucidity. His gaze seems to see beyond that which escapes us.
I imagine him detached, a player, somewhat of a tease, crushing us with his mighty finger like a genuine Deus ex machina.
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