Review: Laborious Walk, experienced by Luz Soria, festivalreporter (Engels)

“I join Ely, and I see the same statue, the same grass, the same feathers on the ground, the same pine, the same other green trees that he has been seeing for the past hours. It is Springtime in the Netherlands. The wind blows, and with the clouds, we go from warm to cold to warm again. We are two strangers walking in circles, talking randomly in a park. We could think of it as a daily scene. But an audience is watching us, listening to our conversation. The ordinary is being pointed at. Has anything — or anyone — actually changed?

Same statue, same grass, same feathers, same pine, same green trees. The wind blows, the clouds move, I am warm now.

We chat. I am curious, he is tired. He says he doesn’t have much to say at this point, actually. Same statue, same grass, same feathers, same pine, same green trees. The wind blows, the clouds move, I am cold now.

Steps going nowhere. Conversations going nowhere. Hours keep passing. We can’t help that. Can we? I feel this as a rehearsal for what I like to call “The art of staying.” Staying on the same path, walking in circles, together. It is never the same. And yes — it is. Same statue, same grass, same feathers, same pine, same green trees. The wind blows again, and the clouds move, but I am still cold.

I ask him to have the last round in silence. We keep walking. I have to think about sharing. And I think about boredom — tediousness, better said. I wonder if we could keep walking with no sense, together, just like we usually keep talking nonsense in daily life. The round is over. I leave the circle. He goes on.

Now Ely is walking on his own. A couple of minutes later, another stranger steps in. Same statue, same grass, same feathers, same pine, same green trees. The wind blows, and Ely takes his jacket off as I put mine on. He keeps walking. I remain.” 

Review and photo’s by Luz Soria