22 LOGGERSTRAAT, ZAANDAM
2025

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Me as my grandmother with my grandmother as myself
C-Print on Dibond
105 x 70 cm
2025

Me as my grandmother
C-Print on Dibond
180 x 120 cm
2025

Me as my grandmother
C-Print on Dibond
105 x 70 cm
2025

Me as my mother with my mother as my grandmother and my grandmother as my myself
C-Print on Dibond
105 x 70 cm
2025

Me as my grandmother with my grandmother as myself
C-Print on Dibond
105 x 70 cm
2025

Me as my mother with my mother as my grandmother and my grandmother as my myself
C-Print on Dibond
180 x 120 cm
2025

Me as my grandmother with my grandmother as my mother and my mother as myself
C-Print on Dibond
105 x 70 cm
2025

Me as my grandmother
C-Print on Dibond
105 x 70 cm
2025

Me as my mother and my mother as myself
C-Print on Dibond
105 x 70 cm
2025

Me as my mother and my mother as myself
C-Print on Dibond
105 x 70 cm
2025

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“She is her mother. She, her grandmother. And the latter, her granddaughter. Each of them wonders who has become who. Born from the same womb that perpetuates itself, like nested Russian dolls. The silent faces of artist Noémie Ninot question the scene to be played. They no longer recognize their bodies or their skin. In search of an author, they look at each other. Where has the one I was gone? The one I will become? Or the one I am? In this prefabricated reality, where tapestries mourn the past and objects remain unchanged, the faces exchange themselves and perform a theater of intimacy. The house allows itself to be inhabited by strangers it no longer defines. We, the neighbors-as-spectators, have pulled back the curtain and now witness the permanence of banality. Like photograms taken from an Ingmar Bergman film, the series inserts strangeness into nothingness. Everything is there, frozen, where chance and accident have disappeared. The protagonists of the address Loggerstraat 22, Zaandam can no longer escape; they are trapped like puppets in their condition.The morbidity of the masks erases their voices: they do not speak, they do not scream, they never engage in dialogue. What we hear in these images are their mechanical gestures—the spoon scraping a plate, a step in a hallway, the noise of a running tap. Each movement is marked by a posture, an assertion of character they nonetheless cannot conceal. The incarnation of the characters we cherish questions our original mold: that of a story that turns perpetually, repeats itself, like a script where beginning and end blur together. Here, Noémie Ninot petrifies through the fiction of her mother and grandmother, an inverted present where the silicone dripping over their faces questions their interwoven identities.”

Text by Evan Argento

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Ventre à Trois Corps
PLA, wood, fabric, synthetic hair, synthetic lashes
120 x 80 cm
2025

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Née sous le signe des gémeaux, 
L’air d’ici vous va bien Mesdames, quand je vous regarde je croirais que
Et puis finalement pas. 

Chorégraphie de jour, on s’affaire dans vos appartements, calmement dans
l’épaisseur de la moquette lunaire, sans bruit on se restaure.

En chien de faïence, j’apprends de toi sans te regarder. 

La lance féminine qui me traverse dépeint mon paysage, 
Le portrait familial qui s’accoude à table, en semi-liberté.
 
Je t’enrobe, 
Je migre dans vos traits mesdames, 
L’empreinte urticante de vos plis m’habite, 

En déshabillé et par la toile de votre peau je m’inscris en faux pour m’inscrire en vous.
Plus le geste est moindre plus je suis vivante

Suzie Crespin Thirode