Latticework is the amazing soundtrack of your movie, whatever is in your head really. As it happens, it is also Brendon Warner’s debut release as Voix Nulle, a project that gives private imagination a place to wander. We spend enough of our lives accepting someone else’s pictures: the casting, the scenery, the precise expression that tells us how a moment should feel. The prospect of supplying our own is appealing. Warner’s references include the surreal fiction of Haruki Murakami and the streets and social fabric of Sydney’s inner west, bringing imagined worlds into contact with the neighbourhood outside his door. You can follow those connections or arrive carrying an entirely different set of associations. A familiar walk, an unresolved conversation or a half-remembered dream might be enough to furnish the opening scene. Childlike Empress offers a more specific invitation through its reference to The NeverEnding Story. A childhood fantasy can acquire uncomfortable relevance when revisited as an adult: the threat of disappearance, the burden of responsibility, the suspicion that imagination alone might not save us. Warner connects the piece with resilience and uncertainty, concerns that also inform his use of modular synthesis, where deliberate choices meet unpredictable behaviour. It would be easy to tidy that process into an inspirational lesson about embracing the unexpected. Real uncertainty rarely feels so convenient. Sometimes we adapt because the alternative has disappeared; sometimes we keep going without learning anything we can put into words. That gives the project a cultural foothold beyond its equipment or Warner’s history with We Lost the Sea. Latticework leaves space to consider a life while it is still happening, before memory has imposed a plot. Your movie can remain unfinished. Most of ours are.
Latticework
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