you. you. you here.
ah. that’s good.
let’s play a game. i’ll give you an address and a time. you just need to find me behind a curtained window on a city street.
swipe left, swipe right, what are you looking for. my place or yours. are you hiding something under that wig or is that actually more like who you’d rather be.
come see lulu rehearse rituals of sex, death, grief and confession. this is trash, this is myth, this is biography, this is art, this is all a fucking lie about who we fucked and when and where and how it hurt.
you choose the objects of play--costume and disguise, to trace a map of a psycho-geographic sex history. somewhere inside the fluctuating gap between sex and intimacy, nakedness and disguise, is the moment we meet each other, and the moment we leave each other. come to confess, i am going to confess. come to watch, i am going to be seen. come to listen, i am going to speak. i'll tell you a secret i'll tell you a lie. is there a difference? this is a performance. this is an installation. we need an audience.
this is all the sex i ever had. this is all the sex i ever never regretted. who do lulu? you do lulu?
susanna fournier & ted witzel are theatre-makers from toronto. they are in berlin making the latest part of a series of performance-based investigations into frank wedekind’s LULU-figure: LULU // aspects of a femme fatale. susanna is a bad feminist and ted is a bad queer and they are both pretty good anti-imperialists. they have spent their time in berlin listening to loud & trashy pop music, wearing orange wigs, and wondering where the daylight seems to disappear to.