Aga Paulina Mlynczak

The Voice of Rain

This summer, I worked on my field recordings of rain taken in different parts of Europe. I cut them up and organised them in a large spreadsheet according to tone (low, mid, high), rhythm, length, and the ease of hearing elements of syncopation. I then developed a programme that allowed me to use these samples across four speakers, recreating an illusion of rain. The key element was to achieve an ever-evolving randomness that could lend the samples a continuous spatial sonic quality of a summer storm unfolding. Once ready, I added vocal recordings of onomatopoeic sounds of rain in different languages.

This piece is my reflection on migration and weather—a central metaphor also analysed by writers and scholars like Christina Sharpe. Here, it ties in the climate, what’s left behind, what’s moving forward, and the meaning of shelter for those who escape. Please scroll down to find a Walkthrough text that teases out and ties together some of the themes that motivated us through the project - written by my collaborator Moira Salt.

My goal was to turn the surface of the sail into a resonant plane of sound—an instrument in its own right. This was complemented by the circular shape of the exhibition room, which allowed the sound of drops to be reflected in all directions.

Much of my sound work revolves around creating speculative, unlikely meetings. I use interviews, conversations, field recordings, and procedural sound as my building blocks. I have a particular interest in the immigrant community’s relationship with language, as well as the local community’s relationship with minority or indigenous languages. This interest is driven by a desire to explore both the internal (individual) and interpersonal (society-wide) dynamics between dominant and non-dominant languages. 

Wake; Like a Ship was shown at The Revelator, coordinated by Stephen Skrynka, during the Glasgow International Festival fringe 2024.

Thanks to Valentina Pimova, Moira Salt, and Stephen Skrynka from The Revelator.

Exhibition Walkthrough with Moira Salt

A white sail,
the sounds of rain,
etched copper stop buttons,
and photograms of time told via mobile phone.
There is a journey here that is invisible, but audible.

The rain is embedded within the sail;
speakers emitting sound with and through the canvas. It trembles.
Within the rain, we hear onomatopoeic sounds of rain in unspecified languages–
kap kap kap, pluch pluch pluch, ta ta ta.
String jellyfish-like tentacles dangle from the underbelly,
signaling a direction,
from – to
a way in the water.
We do not know where we are going, but we know where we have been.

The etchings are made with PCB (or printed circuit board), the same material used for microchips. Microchips, of course, are present in mobile phones. Together, we can imagine them as entries in an intimate archive, featuring the materials of our time but using the processes of the past. Rather than a ticket stub of a bus ride taken, we have a complex chemical process of the stop button used to get off. Rather than a dated journal entry, we have the photons emitted by the artist’s phone screen, and their shadow.
They are hard to capture.
They are constantly moving.
What we have, instead, is what they have left behind,
like all bodies in motion.

Like all bodies in motion,
the water connects them–
water in process
(washing chemicals off of photo-paper,
washing copper plates),
water in capture
(rain raining, rain words),
and water in metaphor.

Because, only when there is water can boats sail.

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Artwork and 📸: @aga.mlynczak