There are art installations at intervals along the path. I always linger at one in particular: a series of nine weathered wooden poles, their tops painted different colors, set in a flower garden. And in front of them there’s a gleaming, pure white frame, about 12 feet wide and high, the work of a different artist.

Pulcinella is the oldest character in European puppet theatre. He jumped off the stage of the Commediain 17thcentury Naples and proceeded to invade Europe. Centuries later, his antics continue to amuse diverse audiences, and he also inspires contemporary puppeteers whose shows bear little apparent resemblance to the original. What’s the secret of his longevity?

Javier Aranda is a solo performer who creates characters out of his own hands. They emerge magically from a single box, which he places on a table with great humility at the beginning of a show. With just a few scraps of cloth and a couple of wigs and false noses, his two hands are transformed into living creatures.

Automata inhabit an in-between world. They are sculpted and painted like a puppet, and they move; but they don’t present the illusion of intentionality, the self-direction that is the puppet’s special gift. In a way, they’re anti-puppets: condemned to repeat exactly the same motions over and over again.

Object theatre has been around for 20 years, and it’s increasingly popular, especially among young performers who want to tell their own stories. I propose a range of approaches, any of which can produce brilliant theatre, with a natural bias toward comedy—but with a huge risk at one extreme.

The Belgian performance artist, Agnès Limbos, is the doyenne of object theatre. I first saw her performing with Thierry Hellin in Axe, a one-hour play with the interesting subtitle, “The Importance of Human Sacrifice in the 21st Century.”

I was lucky to spend some time with Phillip Huber at the O’Neill last summer, when I did marionette construction with Jim Rose, another master. Phillip, with infinite patience, taught us how to move the puppets. I was the slow learner of the class.

Their work is wordless, rooted in the improvisations of street theatre. They are fascinated by the detritus of our society—the solitary souls who wander the streets, checking garbage bins for treasures in cast-off objects.

Andre Laliberté is an imposing man, with a wide face and heavy glasses, a thick grey beard and tangled hair worn in a pony tail. He’s one of the giants of Quebec’s thriving puppetry scene. The Théâtre de l’Oeil, which he founded in 1973, is a cultural treasure.

This six minute cabaret piece by Philippe Genty offers the ultimate version of one of puppetry’s deepest and most universal tropes: the puppet as existential prisoner of his strings.

Through his teaching and mentoring he inspired a new generation of Quebec artists; in particular, Francis Monty, Olivier Ducas and Marcelle Hudon pay tribute to his impact and his brilliance….

This week I started searching for the work of Felix Mirbt (one of the founders of puppet theatre in Quebec and Canada)—but I got ambushed by Philippe Genty. He’s one of the greats, at eighty-one still working with his collaborators in France….