I touch you temples and you follow my gesture – you touch my temples.
My fingers go down, to the cheeks and you do the same.
Then the area around your nose, delicate, sensitive. You touch the area, too.
Nostrils, two round lines and another line – going up to your forehead which – you follow.
And down, straight to your eyes. You press mine.

________________________________

This was one of the possible descriptions of the performance scenario. The rule was simple, the artist touched the features of someone’s face and the person reenacted the same gestures and returned them to the artist. Both promised not to touch anything but a face of the partner.

Right above them there was a tripod with a camera that registered every movement and the image was transmitted to a sizeable screen. There was an audience present at the performance who watched the screen.

The performance You never touched me like that is about the nostalgia of the end, a need to touch, to register someone’s, anyone’s face. We live in the era of climate catastrophe, of mass extinction, stretched over, most likely, decades of our own life. The species are vanishing from the surface of the planet one after another. A need to touch, to remember, to experience someone physically is all we can do.