Showing posts with label static. Show all posts
Showing posts with label static. Show all posts

Monday

recorders . devices . static . sound maps

mapping imaginary sounds
and decoding shadows and echoes
the stories once told
sound maps in the studio
noelle maline sound maps
recording silent walls
and taking notes of 
secret languages
noelle maline sound maps
signals and wires
listening devices

noelle maline sound maps


the people we wish we knew
but never did





 

Tuesday

sound maps . antenna

It is quiet between the walls
the layered textiles
the paper walls
there is a faint sound of strings
i think
and a hum in the clouds
noelle maline

noelle maline
I like the word melancholy
it has a little madness
part sadness
and part magic

I use my antenna to listen 
to the far away distance
the particles and static




 

Monday

silence in the void . static

the absence of sound
the void
a room behind the wall
translating static and echoes

noelle maline

noelle maline
sound maps . static
paint and ink on gelatin silver prints


ela orleans . light at dawn





 

Tuesday

see sounds and hear shadows . static


only speak in whispers
with accumulated static
the sound of a short wave radio
between the walls
of the old apartment


noelle maline
paint, ink, gesso on gelatin silver print

I sent a piece off to New York today )
for a group show coming up
in the chelsea district 

working on a few more sound maps 
the one above is among them







 

Thursday

go back to your dream . the hidden sea

go back to your dream
your not here
you did not disappear
stories of a strange day
imaginary communication

noelle ione maline

 paint, gouache, gesso on paper

standing at the edge of the dark sea
i prefer the sea
in an empty landscape



Sunday

a group exhibition in New York . out of the shadows

 Marvelous and exciting news!

a small door near the floor
she just got into a show in New York
at the Carter Burden Gallery
It will be in November and December
I'll get her ready and sail her off soon

out of the shadows

noelle maline

empty rooms 
awashed with static
small doors
and coded shapes
the ghost of things
and hidden languages