Alexandra Noel

there, there
9 rue des Cascades, Paris

X

Outside my window I heard a man repeatedly shouting, “The ball! The ball!” Considering the affectless tone in which he shouted, I wondered what kind of ball he was shouting about. He didn’t seem frustrated, as if trying to get someone to pass him “the ball” nor did he seem particularly jovial, as if he was going to “the ball” later that evening. I happened to be painting a circle at the same time he was shouting, a serendipitous relief considering a vampiric machine now has my ideas before I do. My painting was starting to shape up. Shadows will do that to a circle. Was the man shouting about this ball?

A few days passed and I’m obsessively thinking about all possibilities of what the ball could be. I imagine that this train of thought can be turned into a text for this show but I fear I’m on a slippery slope of synchronicity becoming meaning becoming madness. Yet here it is. I’m electrified when I receive an image of a ball in an email from the gallery. Instant dialysis for a brain full of plastic. I don’t know what to do with this third coincidence. I can hear the man’s voice again, still and stoic as if to say the calming phrase, “there, there,” the ball is there. Instantly I feel the big ball beneath our feet, which encompasses all possibilities of what “the ball” could be.

A few weeks passed and the dust that falls on LA is shimmering. I’ve inhaled whole houses. My painting of the ball has become a pill tablet, I learn that the ball in the email is not full of air as I had thought, and now I am not sure what the man was actually shouting or if he ever stopped. Knowing it all to be just as meaningful as it is meaningless, I am here standing in the afterimage of one big coincidence, seeing things that are “there, there” or “là, là” la, la, la-ing while pushing paint around until another one shows up. I think of this show like that.






Alexandra Noel

De l’autre côté de ma fenêtre, j’entendis un homme crier à plusieurs reprises « Balle, Balle! ». Etant donné le ton indifférent avec lequel il criait, je me demandais de quelle sorte de bal(le) il parlait. Il n’avait pas l’air frustré, comme s’il attendait que quelqu’un lui passe ‘la balle’, et il n’avait pas l’air non plus particulièrement jovial, comme s’il avait prévu d’aller au « bal » le soir même. Il se trouve que j’étais en train de peindre un cercle au moment où il criait, sérendipité et soulagement à l’idée qu’une entité vampirique produise désormais mes idées avant moi-même. Ma peinture commençait à prendre forme. Les ombres vont s’occuper du cercle. Est-ce que cet homme criait à propos de cette balle-là?

Quelques jours ont passé et je continue à penser, de manière obsessionnelle, à toutes les possibilités que ce ou cette bal(le) pourrait être. J’imagine que ce flux de pensée pourrait devenir le texte pour cette exposition mais j’ai peur d’être sur un terrain glissant de synchronicité transformée en signification transformée en folie. Et pourtant on y est. Je suis électrifiée quand je reçois l’image d’une balle venant d’une galerie. Dialyse instantanée pour un cerveau plein de plastique. Je ne sais pas quoi faire de cette troisième coïncidence. J’entends encore la voix de l’homme, calme et stoïque, comme s’il voulait dire « là, là », la balle est là. Instantanément, je sens l’énorme balle sous nos pieds, qui englobe toutes les possibilités autour de cette « balle ».

Quelques semaines se sont écoulées et la poussière qui tombe sur Los Angeles a des reflets moirés. J’ai inhalé plusieurs maison. Ma peinture de la balle est devenue une plaquette de médicaments, j’apprends que la balle de l’e-mail n’est pas rempli d’air comme je pensais, et maintenant je ne suis même plus sûre de ce que l’homme était vraiment en train de crier ou s’il s’est même arrêté. Sachant que tout cela a autant de sens que de non-sens, je suis là, dans l’image d’après d’une gigantesque coïncidence, voyant des choses qui sont là, là, ou la, la, lalala, approfondissant la peinture jusqu’à ce qu’une autre apparaisse. C’est comme ça que je pense à cette exposition.

EN : Outside my window I heard a man repeatedly shouting, “The ball! The ball!” Considering the affectless tone in which he shouted, I wondered what kind of ball he was shouting about. He didn’t seem frustrated, as if trying to get someone to pass him “the ball” nor did he seem parti...
FR: De l’autre côté de ma fenêtre, j’entendis un homme crier à plusieurs reprises « Balle, Balle! ». Etant donné le ton indifférent avec lequel il criait, je me demandais de quelle sorte de bal(le) il parlait. Il n’avait pas l’air frustré, comme s’il attendait que quelqu’un lui p...
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Exhibition view, there, there, 2025, Crèvecœur, Paris. Courtesy of the artist and Crèvecœur, Paris.

Alexandra Noel, Stickers, 2025, oil and enamel on wood panel, 21.6 × 16.5 × 1.9 cm

Alexandra Noel, Stickers, 2025 
Detail

Exhibition view, there, there, 2025, Crèvecœur, Paris. Courtesy of the artist and Crèvecœur, Paris.

Alexandra Noel, Pink Orange Bag, 2025, oil and enamel on wood panel, 10.8 × 22.9 × 1.9 cm

Alexandra Noel, Bandage (Die 3, 2, 1), 2025, oil and enamel on wood panel 10.8 × 22.9 × 1.9 cm

Exhibition view, there, there, 2025, Crèvecœur, Paris. Courtesy of the artist and Crèvecœur, Paris.

Alexandra Noel, Peppermint Green Screen, 2025, oil and enamel on wood panel, 7.6 × 40.6 × 1.9 cm

Alexandra Noel, Peppermint Green Screen, 2025 
Detail

Exhibition view, there, there, 2025, Crèvecœur, Paris. Courtesy of the artist and Crèvecœur, Paris.

Alexandra Noel, Screw Tablet, 2025, oil and enamel on wood panel, 12.7 × 17.8 × 1.9 cm

Alexandra Noel, Screw Tablet, 2025 
Detail

Exhibition view, there, there, 2025, Crèvecœur, Paris. Courtesy of the artist and Crèvecœur, Paris.

Alexandra Noel, Muscles control birth corner, 2025, oil and enamel on wood panel, 15.2 × 22.9 × 1.9 cm

Alexandra Noel, Sycamore Node, 2025, oil and enamel on wood panel, 20.3 × 25.4 × 1.9 cm

Exhibition view, there, there, 2025, Crèvecœur, Paris. Courtesy of the artist and Crèvecœur, Paris.

Alexandra Noel, Face Planet, 2025, oil and enamel on wood panel, 20.3 × 25.4 × 1.9 cm

Alexandra Noel, Face Planet, 2025 
Detail

Exhibition view, there, there, 2025, Crèvecœur, Paris. Courtesy of the artist and Crèvecœur, Paris.

Alexandra Noel, no non nom, 2025, oil and enamel on wood panel, 15.2 × 17.8 × 1.9 cm

Alexandra Noel, no non nom, 2025 
Detail

Alexandra Noel, Nice Light, 2025, oil and enamel on wood panel, 22.9 × 30.5 × 1.9 cm

Exhibition view, there, there, 2025, Crèvecœur, Paris. Courtesy of the artist and Crèvecœur, Paris.

Alexandra Noel, Hoards, 2025, oil and enamel on wood panel, 7.6 × 40.6 × 1.9 cm

Alexandra Noel, Hoards, 2025,
Detail

Exhibition View, Alexandra Noel, there, there, 2025, Crèvecœur, Paris

Alexandra Noel, The First, 2025, oil and enamel on wood panel, 8.9 × 12.7 × 1.9 cm

Exhibition View, Alexandra Noel, there, there, 2025, Crèvecœur, Paris

Alexandra Noel, The Sulk Splits, 2025, oil and enamel on wood panel, 25.4 × 30.5 × 1.9 cm

Alexandra Noel, The Sulk Splits, 2025,
Detail

Exhibition View, Alexandra Noel, there, there, 2025, Crèvecœur, Paris

Alexandra Noel, Sprite from shore to shore, 2025, oil and enamel on wood panel, 16.5 × 21.6 × 1.9 cm

Alexandra Noel, Sprite from shore to shore, 2025 
Detail

Exhibition View, Alexandra Noel, there, there, 2025, Crèvecœur, Paris

Exhibition View, Alexandra Noel, there, there, 2025, Crèvecœur, Paris

Alexandra Noel, Spring, 2025, oil and enamel on wood panel, 10.2 × 30.5 × 1.9 cm

Alexandra Noel, Spring, 2025,
Detail

Exhibition View, Alexandra Noel, there, there, 2025, Crèvecœur, Paris

Alexandra Noel, Muscle Brain (Die 35-36), 2025, oil and enamel on wood panel, 20.3 × 25.4 × 1.9 cm

Alexandra Noel, Muscle Brain (Die 35-36), 2025 
Detail

Alexandra Noel, Train, 2025, oil and enamel on wood panel 10.8 × 22.9 × 1.9 cm

Exhibition View, Alexandra Noel, there, there, 2025, Crèvecœur, Paris

Alexandra Noel, Muscles drone banana peel, 2025, oil and enamel on wood panel, 12.7 × 17.8 × 1.9 cm

Alexandra Noel, Muscles drone banana peel, 2025
Detail

Exhibition View, Alexandra Noel, there, there, 2025, Crèvecœur, Paris

Alexandra Noel, Code Poem, 2025, paper, oil, wood, wire, insect pins, various dimensions

Alexandra Noel, Code Poem, 2025, paper, oil, wood, wire, insect pins, various dimensions


Work views: Alex Delapena
Exhibition views: Martin Argyroglo