NELLY KATE — STUDIO ARTIST

Expanded practice in sound treating access as a site for poetic translation.


CONTENTS

01 The Difference

02 nowisthe
03 Nevermind
04 FutureFluid

05 [Untitled] 6 Cylinders

06 I Hear You, But I Can’t Hear You
07 Transistors in Translation

08 ~~~~~”...derelict in uncharted space...”
09 pink moon

10 Into the Ground, Into the Body


STATEMENT

My work is motivated by care and a desire to make space for public imagination. I’m interested in ad-hoc solutions that create a sense of belonging. This can look like on-the-fly audio descriptions, live captions, provisional structures, and rearrangements of furniture.

My materials and methods are reflexive. I gravitate toward lo-fi mechanisms—such as reel-to-reel tape loops, transistor radios, photocopiers, and electronic synthesizers—because they reveal electromagnetic frequencies all around us. Their fluttering textures are like our complex embodiments, sensed differently by every being, from every position, in every moment.

For the last few years, I’ve made a lot of furniture, speakers, and screens with repurposed steel barrels. I like the labor, engineering, improvisation, care, and slowness this requires. I like the body-memory evident in the wear, tear, and filth.  And anyway, I believe our budgets reflect our values and I’d much rather pay people than generate more trash.

What if we have everything we need?


The objects I make set the stage for experiences that invite connection, drift, rest, and a relinquishment of clock time. When all these factors converge, I call that ecstatic magic and that’s what I strive for in my practice.


︎    ︎    ︎


H0ME • BIO • CV • ︎
NELLY KATE 03 — SEP 2020

Nevermind






The world is very noisy. It’s very loud. It’s sonically harsh. I’m referring to the constant shush of interstates, the collective hum of air conditioners, the horn-blaring road-raging drivers, the din of a restaurant, the corona discharge on high-tension power lines, sirens, dogs barking, televisions cycling, trains clattering, and air brakes.  
Of course, its also very quiet. At times, stunningly euphonic. And at times, aurally euphoric. I’m thinking of swishing grasses on a Kansas prairie, the gurgling lap of tides on a jetty, evensong of woodland birds, and the echo of  subway buskers, whispered secrets, rain on a tin roof, thunder in the distance, and a choir of cicadas thrumming in the oaks. 

As these sonic experiences fade from my perception, I am increasingly confounded by mundane communication, and my desire to engage with the acoustic landscape wanes. Through this work, I continue to grapple with pluralism. My partial deafness suspends me in the interspace between  hearing & Deaf communities.