May Waves Rise

Live performance collaboration with Matthieu Hallé . 2019 and ongoing

May Waves Rise is a 45 minute improvised performance piece for visuals and sound. Hallé uses candles—whose flicker is influenced by his breathing and whose image is focused with handheld pieces of glass onto a video camera sensor—as the light source that illuminates a 45 minute, 16mm film of an abstracted, ocean landscape that he filmed. In a dialogue with the live music, the visuals are spontaneously adapted and created through the minute gestures Hallé makes with his hands and breathing that translate into an otherworldly presentation of colour and movement.

the text may waves rise is taken from a poem by xi chuan

shoreline … Anne’s shoreline project is a contemplative walk to observe the interplay between water and land, to listen to the songs, to make field recordings of place and spoken histories; to find hand drawn maps in archives; and to compose new sound fields that may offer a sense of wellbeing . solvitur ambulando . shoreline began in Vancouver in residence with Tom Kuo at Basically Good Media Lab at Emily Carr; in Montreal where this version of May Waves Rise emerged; and shoreline now continues in Iceland and Ireland.

With thanks to the Banff Centre for Art and Creativity, Chalmers Arts Foundation and to Christopher Willes.


Matthieu Hallé is an interdisciplinary media artist currently based in Ottawa, Canada.


Send your flock to the sea 把羊群赶下大海

xi chuan

Send your flock to the sea, shepherd,

leave the world to stones—

stones of night, the sky’s

resplendent stars, which you will not see.

Send your flock to the sea, shepherd,

may waves rise from [her] floor.

Expansive as rain clouds the seaside lowlands

leave us lonesome, facing another world.

Fierce sea gale. Salt on your face.

The great sun in the shipwreck abyss.

The lighthouse walks to the sea, flames rise on the water

west to the cape the river runs softly.

Part with yesterday's rainstorm,

endure the weight of night and terror’s devastation.

Silent trees catch the seasurge,

east to the cape our summers converge.

Because I discovered at the end of the road

that you were the only one I could approach,

I bless your flock: send them to the sea

on the wilds of the coastline where we once met.