Cinéma Invisible
CD (E90)

Cinéma Invisible is a collaborative project by pianist Heleen
Van Haegenborgh and visual artist Jasper Rigole. The latter’s
International Institute for the Conservation, Archiving and
Distribution of Other People’s Memories (IICADOM) served
as a starting point for this work. It consists of found private
documents, or ‘memories’ (printed and recorded), sourced
from flea markets and garage sales.

This project is based on texts extracted from two audio
tapes which were selected from a collection of found
cassettes. Van Haegenborgh analysed the intrinsic elements
of the sounds: texture, structure, metrics, rhythm, context
and character. These elements were applied to create a
fixed global structure. Defined strategies were used by the
musicians as guidelines for improvisation.

See also
Venrooy/Van Haegenborgh (E55)
Venrooy/Gyselinck (E144)

Edition of 300 copies

Heleen Van Haegenborgh (concept, piano);
Kristof Roseeuw (double bass); Jürgen de Blonde
(electronics); Lander Gyselinck (drums)
Photographs by Reinhout Hiel


Belgian artist/film maker Jasper Rigole’s IICADOM [see above]
has inspired experimental pianist Heleen Van Haegenborgh
to create her Cinéma Invisble project, setting Rigole’s tapes
amidst her quartet (piano, bass, drums and electronics). Part
composed, part improvised, the album is a live performance
recorded in a Ghent studio by this young (30-ish) Belgian
group. So first we hear a child learning to read, under which
the music creeps in. Someone is practising guitar — the tape
is accompanied by the musicians, then Lander Gyselinck
cuts loose on the drums, and his torrents are processed into
atmosphere by Jürgen de Blond’s electronics.

The success of this album is down to Van Haegenborgh,
who is enormously impressive (and I’m not just saying that
because of Julian Opie’s portrait of her on her MySpace site).
Her piano, often coloured by wine glasses on the strings or
other extended techniques, is in the John Tilbury arena of
exquisite retraint coupled with emotional oomph. Whether
atmospheric or punctuating with outbursts, the group play-
ing is disciplined, colourful and cliche-free. The effect of
the tapes is disorienting — acoustic spaces shift around
in a heady manner. Meanwhile de Blond’s electronics gear,
repeating and twisting musical gestures, plays further
games with one’s memory. Cinéma Invisble is maybe not
the ideal title — there’s not really anything visual going
on here, more a subtle play of sonic spaces, where Rigole’s
audibly aged tapes and the live performance leak into one
another back and forth, like a hall of mirrors refracting
past and present time.

Clive Bell in The Wire