A small question becomes big
A small question becomes big A conversation with Véronique Côté
Les choses berçantes is your second play for very young children. What motivates you to create plays for this age group? My work for very young children is the form that gives me the greatest creative freedom. It’s an opportunity for true artistic experimentation—on the structure, of course, but especially on the issues that I want to present to this audience. What do we have to learn from each other? What can we talk about with toddlers? They are great mysteries to me, and as such they are constantly renewing my gaze. Les choses berçantes is a kind of companion piece to Flots, tout ce qui brille voit, especially in terms of the brother/sister theme and the casting. How did one show influence the other? It’s hard to untangle the threads of creation, and especially of what influences it. We are made of so many things we’ve seen, read, heard, of so many thoughts that nourish us: those of others, those of the world. In a creative process like the one behind these plays, the entire team participates in making the finished work appear. From the first Flots laboratories, I had this vision of a little house with a balcony, clotheslines, grass, and a broken heart in need of repair. The show’s visual elements are very sophisticated. What were your sources of inspiration for the images and the overall look of the show? Erica Schmitz, the set designer with whom I also worked on Flots, contributed great resources in this area—images, colours, objects. For this work in particular, I would say we were inspired by the work of set designer Katrin Brack, and by Isabelle Arsenault’s wonderful picture books. From a more personal point of view, where did you get the idea to talk to children about profound sorrow and consolation? I often start with a real question that I asked myself as a child, and that I still ask myself as an adult. For Flots, it was “How do you wait without getting hurt?” For Les choses berçantes, it was “How do you console yourself?” I wanted to talk about that. We all have our troubles. And that’s something we have in common with children. Sorrows can be immense when you’re small. And then there are parents whose relationship is in trouble—these things happen ... I wanted to give children a sense of that, in an enlightening way. Sorrows have transformative power; they can lead to more beauty. It seems to me that it’s good to know that early in life.
Interviewed by Amélie Dumoulin
Les choses berçantes is your second play for very young children. What motivates you to create plays for this age group? My work for very young children is the form that gives me the greatest creative freedom. It’s an opportunity for true artistic experimentation—on the structure, of course, but especially on the issues that I want to present to this audience. What do we have to learn from each other? What can we talk about with toddlers? They are great mysteries to me, and as such they are constantly renewing my gaze. Les choses berçantes is a kind of companion piece to Flots, tout ce qui brille voit, especially in terms of the brother/sister theme and the casting. How did one show influence the other? It’s hard to untangle the threads of creation, and especially of what influences it. We are made of so many things we’ve seen, read, heard, of so many thoughts that nourish us: those of others, those of the world. In a creative process like the one behind these plays, the entire team participates in making the finished work appear. From the first Flots laboratories, I had this vision of a little house with a balcony, clotheslines, grass, and a broken heart in need of repair. The show’s visual elements are very sophisticated. What were your sources of inspiration for the images and the overall look of the show? Erica Schmitz, the set designer with whom I also worked on Flots, contributed great resources in this area—images, colours, objects. For this work in particular, I would say we were inspired by the work of set designer Katrin Brack, and by Isabelle Arsenault’s wonderful picture books. From a more personal point of view, where did you get the idea to talk to children about profound sorrow and consolation? I often start with a real question that I asked myself as a child, and that I still ask myself as an adult. For Flots, it was “How do you wait without getting hurt?” For Les choses berçantes, it was “How do you console yourself?” I wanted to talk about that. We all have our troubles. And that’s something we have in common with children. Sorrows can be immense when you’re small. And then there are parents whose relationship is in trouble—these things happen ... I wanted to give children a sense of that, in an enlightening way. Sorrows have transformative power; they can lead to more beauty. It seems to me that it’s good to know that early in life.
Interviewed by Amélie Dumoulin
