From: Clayton Vxxxxxxx <>
Date: December 4, 2011 2:39:06 PM GMT+01:00
Subject: Goodbye.
Now that that’s out of the way.. Every time your site pops into my head.. Just the slightest thought of it.. My imagination runs one hundred laps around the tiny confines of its bone’n’brain prison.. So I’ve finally managed to muster the courage, and acquire the know how to write you.. and ask exactly what’s going on behind those thought provoking images making up the majority of your site.. To inquire of the real mind behind the almost eerie writing that accompanies them. I like to consider myself a bit of an artist.. Even if I have no talent extending to the realm of visual art, and my preferred category, the literary, is something I only make amateur voyages into.. But your talent for provoking thought.. for making the mundane into something more than the sum of its parts.. it astounds me.. confuses me, even.. My question to you, is.. Who is Mouchette? Is it you? A person? The one reading my words, and chuckling casually at my laughable attempt at masking my basic, and probably all-to-common question as something interesting and thought-provoking? Or is Mouchette a group? A group of people whom is made up by many more than just yourself.. a group that, if real, confuses me by never revealing its intentions.. or purpose, if any, behind this cultural phenomenon. And if you’re neither of those.. Then what? What are you? Not who.. What. I, myself, see “Are you really thirteen?” as a question that shouldn’t be at this point.. rather, WERE you really thirteen at the beginning? And when was the beginning? How old are you now? Who are you, now? What do you do? How has your life changed? Are you happy? If you could go back, would you change anything? About this site, in particular? About your life in general? Are you looking for correspondence with like-minded individuals? I guess.. Let me tell you more about me..

My name is Clayton. My life, as of late, has lost almost all meaning. I’ve grown. Learned. With wisdom, at least in my experience, has come cynicism. I’ve lost interest in everything I thought was fun. I’ve taken up drinking. I’ve lost more girlfriends than I even remember having. Women from my past have come back, all of them happily married and/or with children.. I fear loneliness. Its a phobia. I’m going nowhere, and fast. I, at the beginning of this terrible loss of interest in living… I was happy. I remember what that feels like. Some people say they’ve forgotten.. I remember, and I miss it dearly. I have quite a few friends. My friends? They’re the misfits, as am I. I could have been part of the cliques in school. The party crowd. I had the charisma, I’ve been told.. but they didn’t interest me. So I made friends with people I liked. The downside? They rely on me. I’m the only friend a few of them have. Its hard, but.. I try hard for them. Lately its not enough. I’m giving up on everything. Earlier on in my depression, I considered suicide. Maybe not really considered? More toyed with the idea. For some reason I Googled something similar to “I need to fucking die”, and.. well.. If I said I didn’t find, click on, and leave open for the next two months, for a security blanket, almost.. I’d be lying. I didn’t view it most of the time.. Just had it open. Just.. Because it helped. I thank you for that, whoever you are. You may have helped more than even I realize. Regardless.. You helped. Since then, the confusion that’s grown over your site.. the sense of mystery, maybe? Its bugged me. Now I’m here. On my Droid, writing a stranger, confused even by my own purpose.. But I feel comfortable. Comforted by your intellect, even. Then again, maybe its the massive volume of alcohol, painkillers, and caffeine coursing through my soul at the moment.. The jury is out on that one.. But the verdict is in on another topic. I respect you. Maybe not for the reason everyone else seems to.. maybe our reasons are the same. I hope this email provokes thought in you. I hope it does for you, maybe even, what you’ve done for me. Do me a favor. Don’t hesitate. Don’t be shy. Be my friend. That’s all I’d ask of anyone, anymore. Give me a chance.. Please? 😉



Subject: a reply to goodbye
From: Martine Neddam <>
Date: December 5, 2011 10:46:01 PM GMT+01:00
To: Clayton Vxxxxx <>
Cc: Shop Mouchette <>

Dear Clayton,

For a long time the artist behind Mouchette was a complete secret.  The reason is: it’s  a better work of art if you don’t know the author, it works more powerfully on your imagination if your mind can create a sort of projection of your own longings. And as soon as you know who’s behind, most of the magic is gone. Not that I think there’s anything wrong with me, but that’s the way it works.

Now it’s not so secret anymore and from link to link navigating from you could have come accross that page, for example:

Of course, it makes me happy and proud to know that my art helps you through your depression. It’s so often blamed for being disturbing, provocative, scandalous, nightmarish, egomaniac, and so on… It takes me so much time to maintain and repair and update and still preserve the original look and spirit that I hardly have enough time and energy left to do some new works of art. The fact that it can mean so much to some people makes it worthwhile. So thanks for writing and telling how significant is for you.

If Mouchette keeps living inside your head, no need to ask me to become your friend, I AM your friend already.

Martine Neddam




PS: I also read the letter you sent to the talented designer of the mouchette shop who is getting a cc of this mail. She forwarded the letter to me, saying it’s more directed to me than to her. I have asked her to design the shop and I’m very happy with the way she interprets the genuine spirit of Mouchette.

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