The Fence

Yesterday we went to the theatre. I've been to the theatre here in England on some occasions; most of them, I leave the theatre a bit disappointed. This time, though, the play was excellent. The Fence, was written and directed by Howard Barker, one of the most acclaimed contemporary theatre playwrights here in Britain, and produced by the company dedicated to Barker's works, The Wrestling School.

Again, the play was great. We both liked it. I leave you here some provocations for the play made by the auhor.

The fence invites its own violation.
Is this to deny the value of the fence?

The persistent transgressor — and transgression is a passion in itself — is doomed to exhaustion, for every barrier he violates only reveals another, higher, deeper, yet more cruel. What represented itself as freedom becomes humiliating servitude...

We like to imagine a world without frontiers. This flatters our humanity. It is a vanity of the western mind. But the barrier merely moves. We dismantle one only to erect another. We identify another alien inside the fence. It is possible we are human because of the frontier. Does it not define us?