Philippe GAULIER

Wonderful Philippe,
One of the most significant turning points in my life is flying to the other side of the world to step into your classroom - a a guru, a clown, a shining light on ways to step into/inside the terror and joy of performance. Joy, wins every time. Thank you for your frank, honest, funny, naughty, encouraging feedback - thank you for believing in me & for creating moments in class to help me believe in myself. I take you with me every day, in performance, in life. "Every moment is precious," and my favourite, "Get off my stage, you look like a little rabbit who is going to fart." You have shared and given much to the world and those fortunate enough to learn from you. I'm one of the lucky ones. Thank you Dear Philippe may you rest in peace. Margaret-Mary, Aotearoa, New Zealand.

Dear Philippe,

You changed not only the way I look at theatre but also the way I look at life. You are always there, among some of my fondest memories- even those where you handed my arse to me on a plate.

Merci, adieu et “Mind the gap”

Love and hugs to Michiko, Balthazar, Samuel and all of Philippe’s family; the world may have lost something irreplaceable, but he will live on through the many people whose lives he has touched.

Lee

To Philippe's family,

Gaulier’s reputation most definitely preceded him, and in my case, my mum (Mme Haricots-Verts) having attended a decade before I was born, I’ve had a sense of him all my life. I would hear stories of his put-downs, his intensity, but more than anything his wit, and to be honest, when I was eight I couldn’t think of a worse way of spending my time. It sounded frankly terrifying, and was probably to be avoided.

When I got older and started performing, I thankfully changed my mind and attended his school in Étampes. Not that it wasn’t still terrifying, but what could be learned! And what it would be like to go through life to never know what it felt like.

It is literally a magical place, and I consider it one of the honours of my life to have been able to take part even in some small way. What was equally impressive, though, was everyone else I met.

The teachers, the students, the entire town it seemed, all in the same orbit, creating something so incredibly special.

All of that is still there, and will remain there. And maybe one day I’ll have a child who dreams that same dream, and takes that same plunge. I can hear the drum already.

Tres cher Philippe!
Je te remercie infiniment pour la haute et marquante inspiration que tu ma donnée dans mes si jeunes années de recherches artistiques: Le miracle et l´art du jeux.
Tu as changé ma vie.
Quel trésor: être chez sois pour pouvoir se depasser et être chez l´autre pour se retrouver.
Je m´incline devant toi avec gratitude pour ta maîtrise et ton humanité touchante et je te t´envoie des salutations du cœur là où tu continues d´agir à partir de maintenant.

Mon cher Philippe,

Monsieur. It is not possible that you are gone. We met in Paris, 1987. In those days, you’d soften up les étudiants by playing ‘Balthazar a dit.’ There would be punishments for those who got it wrong, which is to say, got it right, because your first profound lesson was in making glorious capital out of cock ups.

We learned to embrace le con and Monsieur Flop. We learned to have complicité, and not to have les yeux de merlan frite pas frais, to go slowly (moins vite, moins vite), to stand tall, grande comme vous êtes. Light on your ‘orrible feet! And always for the audience, only with their permission –– pour nous, pour nous!

You called me Madame Haricots Verts. Among other things.

Your highest praise: on a vu qu’elque chose.

You saw me lose or gain something big behind Arlecchino’s mask, because you were a shaman.

And your lessons, mon cher Philippe, were life-lessons, and for life. We all of us carry the Gaulier blueprint in our brains. So indeed, Monsieur, it is not possible that you are gone.

Toujours votre élève
Mme Haricots Verts xxx

La classe !!!