Siren Song

That summer, ripe fruit kept landing on the dusty stone.

Lazy breakfasts in the shade. Cicadas chirping in the green branches, and fruit coming down off the tree with a soft thump. Later the sunsets got chased down to the beach, where the waves slapped the shore and the gulls shouted overhead. Tousled hair, and a local summer hit sung whole-hearted and off-key by two people who could not hold the tune.

Fig runs through all of it, bitter and green at the leaf and going soft further in. Oakmoss and oakwood absolute keep it rooted in dry ground. Immortelle and sandalwood hold the light in it.

NOISE builds fragrances the way a record gets built. Sound comes first and everything follows from it: the three tiers on every product page are treble, mid and bass, and a play button sits beside every bottle. Sound shapes the world before anyone is born, and the familiar mixed with the unexpected goes straight past the intellect and into the deepest corners of the mind. Sound, sight and memory are the three powers the work draws on.

The work is made in France and handed to a rotating cast of noses that has included Bertrand Duchaufour, Mark Buxton and David Chieze. The subjects are ordinary on purpose: a rusty garden gate, an elevator ride, the gap left after a song ends. Each one is designed to make its own mark and not to be forgotten.