PEOPLE: LOCKDOWN FILES FT. INGVILD

LOCKDOWN FILES: INGVILD at TIDE CASTING

CREATIVE COLLABORATION SERIES WITH PRODUCTION & DIRECTION BY TIDE CASTING

INGVILD WAS PHOTOGRAPHED DURING LOCKDOWN BY ELSA HAMMAREN AND THEO GUILLEMOT

 

 

 

 

 

NOISE 
____by INGVILD
 


 
Two men are walking by a road. They are speaking loudly with words. But the conversation does not flourish, because they do not speak the same language. For them, it is only noise. However, they keep babbling, because both of their directors, in their ugly, sad and grey offices, told them to do so. Noise. Laugh.  
 
Suddenly one gets scared. The other must be a villain, he thinks. He takes out his revolver and shoots the second man. Noise. The man falls on the ground. Dead. Silence. 
 
 
Noises I would like to describe for the man who was shot and never heard them fully because he never stopped and listened once in his life. That is the reason for him being shot:  
 a. The noise of the scared and dying mouse. Trapped in our class. A white mouse squeaking. Ambushed between the electrical circuit and the fake white cover ceiling. The point of this noise is to experience roaming. No possibility of locating the mouse from its screams. So, a wandering noise echoed in our class. An ambient cry for help.  
 b. The noise of love. Of beautiful love. Of delicate touch, of slapping, of kissing, of screaming. The noise of ripping, scratching, and tearing, the noise of blood. The noise of whispering, of breathing, of fondling. The noise of flowers in the morning and hidden words. Oysters and red sea salt. Of course, that sound is the most important of all. 
 c. The noise of time when you are seven years old. The noise of the cheap watch that your parents bought you to learn timing, that keeps you awake during the nights, and you, fascinated, shivering at each second. The noise of freedom when the school alarm rings. The ugly clock that ticks every hour at your grandparents’ house, reminding you to live and reminding them to die.  
 d. The noise of the colour orange. The noise of giraffes bending their long necks to kiss leaves of old trees in the cold Sahara. The noise of a t-shirt worn by a petulant cocktail dancing in the clouds. The noise of red, violet, yellow and grey fighting in the light.  
 
 
A girl is assaulted by a ruthless man at the back of a street. She screams “NO”. “PLEASE … STOP”. But it is only noise to him.  
 
 
e. The noise of despair. Noise of lamentation in the empty black room. Noise of wrists opening with kitchen knives. Of ghosts screaming at your face. Noise of gas filling the 234 apartment on Miranda Building. Noise of water drowning the earth. Noise of eyes turning to ink, of tortured children cut in pieces and birds flying in cages.  
 f. The noise of salted tears in your mouth. Noise of silence in the hidden huts full of windows in the wood. Noise of your heart beating in your stomach and your legs, mathematically. Of old books smelling like dead tulips. Noise of staying underwater, forever, floating on your belly, hearing jellyfish loitering.  
 g. The noise of hope. Noise of people holding hands in a wet summer night. Of music and plants melting together in a white painting. Noise of old duvets, quilts, pillows and pyjamas making soft grottos for the ones inspired. Noise of candles burning pink haze flavour. Noise of people singing altogether for the coming of the rain. Noise of the rain.  
 h. The noise of _________.  The noise of being frightened by the rusty heating. The noise of smiling with your broken teeth. Of being hugged by your mother and father. The noise of sweating while you are running away. The noise of a frozen lake breathing on Saturn.  
 
 
The second man keeps walking and enters a colourful desert. Birds are flying over beautiful burning cathedrals. Monkeys are eating hamburgers. Caterpillars are hosting a strawberry and champagne prom party. Elephants are pissing perfume. 
 
But the man can’t hear anything. It is complete silence for him. He is scared. He feels so alone, in his empty hearing world. He kills himself with the revolver. 
 
BAM! 
 

Silence.

 

 

 

 

 

NAME, AGE, LOCATION: Ingvild, 21, Bretagne, Ouest of France

 

 

LOCKDOWN FEELS LIKE... I escaped Paris and went by the ocean, so it’s been treating me quite well.

 

 

 

 

 

 

LOCKDOWN ACTIVITIES... Reading, writing, swimming and breathing.

 

 

LOCKDOWN NOSTALGIA... Feeling lost to the Parisian streets, and somehow ending up by the Seine.

 

 

 

 

 

THE PERFECT LOCKDOWN PARTNER... A lover...

 

 

ONE UPSIDE OF LOCKDOWN... The criterion collection channel.

 

 

 

 

THE CONSTANT LOCKDOWN SENSATION... Waiting.

 

 

THREE PEOPLE TO ZOOM WITH... Jesus-Christ, Britney Spears, Nietzsche

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

LOCKDOWN... RIGHT NOW... IT'S A MOVIE... THE TITLE... 'Every day waiting for the next.'

 

 

 

ULTIMATE LOCKDOWN F-WORD... Freedom.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

FOLLOW INGVILD ON  INSTAGRAM

FOLLOW TIDE CASTING ON  INSTAGRAM

FOLLOW ELSA HAMMAREN ON  INSTAGRAM

FOLLOW THEO GUILLEMOT ON  INSTAGRAM

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