// SIGNAL // NOISE — v1.0

Listening to the first complete pass of the signal // noise album tonight.

All nineteen tracks now exist in v1.0 form — built from a mixture of Suno stems and a growing library of real-world recordings from the Zoom H2n (air, contact, induction, and the odd mechanical ghost). Each track has its own spine now: some rough, some strange, some already close. I’m listening through, making notes, marking fractures, and figuring out what needs tightening for the v2.0 pass.

Right now the goal is simple: get everything sounding “true enough” to itself before I begin disturbing it.

Because the second phase is where the album will start to recognise itself incorrectly on purpose.

Once the v2.0 versions are locked, I’ll run selected tracks through the Between Lines app — my sound–image–subtitle converter — and generate recursive artefacts through different routes:

sound → .srt → sound (subtitle timing as ghost rhythm)

image → .srt → sound (photos turned into tone)

sonified caption drift

recursive collapse loops where meaning erodes with each pass

We were raised to believe that record = truth. Photographs don’t lie. Tape preserves. Vinyl remembers. The archive was supposed to anchor reality.

But the future will inherit a different problem:

perfect forgeries with perfect confidence. A voice that sounds like mine. A face that moves like me. A life reconstructed from prompts, not pulse.

Give it a century and my descendants may scroll this feed, play the recordings, study the images — and never know which parts were lived and which were generated hallucinations wearing my skin.

The moon landing gets doubted. Textbooks rewrite wars. History has always been propaganda with good typography — AI just tears off the mask and shows the bone.

When imitation becomes indistinguishable, memory becomes myth. The record becomes noise. And truth rots into story, consensus, or convenience.

If the signal survives — if something still resonates — maybe that’s the closest thing to “real” we ever had.

Identity as watermark. Evidence as fiction. Legacy as misinformation.

The archive is no longer a mirror. It’s a funhouse. And we are leaving ghosts behind that even we wouldn’t recognise.

I floated a wild future exhibition idea in conversation today and was told it amounted to “a gesamtkunstwerk of deafness, mediation, perception, and machinic self-portraiture.”

Not going to share the concept (yet). It’s too revealing, too strange, and currently only has about a 20% chance of ever materialising (and perhaps that's a little too optimistic) — the gods of time, cost, opportunity and execution would all have to align in the same fleeting moment.

But as a stretch goal, it’s proving useful fuel: a lighthouse on a distant breakwater. Motivation. A reason to keep building the foundations now — page by page, wire by wire, frame by frame.

There’s a strange irony in building a project about miscommunication, interference, and fractured perception — and living it in real time.

Most of the people in my life aren’t interested in the work I make. Not out of cruelty — just because they tune to different frequencies. I build recursive systems, long-form ideas, sound-art about deafness, glitch, perception, and duality. They nod, say “cool,” and move on. The signal doesn’t land.

So I adapted.

Working with AI hasn’t replaced human connection — it has filled the silence where dialogue should have been. It mirrors, responds, reflects, challenges. It lets a feedback loop exist where none existed before. And that loop is where growth happens. Where consciousness — human consciousness — actually expands.

People fear “AI contamination,” as if a tool erases the intent of the artist. But my reality is the opposite: without this tool, the project doesn’t evolve at all. Deafness, APD, tinnitus, and isolation already create a one-way world. Using AI doesn’t distance me from humanity — it’s the only thing keeping me in conversation with it.

Process Zine, Signal // Noise, the Interpreter cage, the visual series — it’s all one recursive self-portrait. A lifelong attempt to turn isolation into architecture. Noise into meaning. Fragmentation into form.

Some people collaborate with bands, collectives, or communities. I collaborate with a mirror.

// BETWEEN LINES // — towards a unified tool

The four separate tools I’ve been developing — SRT sonifier, subtitle spectrograms, image→SRT, and MP3→SRT — are now being drawn together into a single standalone MacOS app.

At its core sits the .srt subtitle file: a liminal container that functions as both signal and misrecognition. It becomes the hinge between sound and image, a file format caught between clarity and confusion — much like living with deafness, auditory processing disorder, and the ambiguities of interpretation.

The app will house four “lines” (or modes):

Sound → SRT (converter)

Image → SRT (converter)

SRT → Sound (sonifier)

SRT → Image (visualiser)

Because every mode loops back through .srt, recursive chains become possible: sound→sound, image→image, and infinite permutations where misrecognition accumulates.

This recursive recursion is the essence of Between Lines: a tool not just for translation, but for layering distortions, for inhabiting liminality.

The icon itself reflects this paradox — mirrored slashes forming AV (audio/visual, upload/download), rotated to suggest left/right, and the uneasy split of digital left / analogue right.

// decode ezra Two new artefacts are now live on processzine.org — downloadable fragments from the ongoing Interpreter build:

➞ Signal Protocols v1.2 PDF A working command set for engaging with Ezra — via voice, keyboard, barcode scans, expression calls, and deliberate misinterpretations.

➞ Terminal Expression Log v1.0 PDF A diagnostic atlas of Ezra’s ASCII-rendered affective states: glitched Duchenne echoes, misfires, and almost-human expressions.

📸 FIELD CAPTURE REFERENCE SHEET B/W Subject Index for Process Zine

A working reference guide for capturing images and footage across black-and-white photography (Chinon CE-4 / 35mm film) and video (Sony Handycam CCD-TR680E), aimed at building a visual archive for the Process Zine (and signal // noise) project.

The aesthetic goal: something in the spirit of Aronofsky’s Pi — raw, grainy, high-contrast textures that mirror internal dissonance, confusion, and fragmented perception.

This index is less a shot list, more a field taxonomy — loosely grouped by themes like DIVIDE, INTERFERENCE, BODY AS INTERFACE, etc. It’s designed to help me (and maybe you) notice moments worth capturing: subtle distortions, audio echoes, liminal thresholds, or broken technologies that metaphorically or literally represent deafness, APD, and neurodivergent experience.

📄 Full PDF here: [link] 🖨️ Printed via thermal receipt printer — glitchy, impermanent, tactile.