Noemi S. Conan

Painter. Tuber. Image Maker.

Exploring life after a nuclear disaster. Feral Femininity. Silvan Domestification. Considering Post-Communism. Theories of Surplus Value. Don’t quote me on the size. Plastic in the woods.

Wilderfrau for the New Millenium. 



Small Works

Melts Into Air, 2022

Sometimes the game of hide and seek is less about finding and more about shaking off the chase. Loosen up a bit and keep the spectral maidens in both the figurative and literal woods.
Repellant, An ‘Invitation’, 2022

Salve atque Vale, and by Vale I mean the kind of ‘walenie’ which no school biology teacher would explain without a beeetroot red blush crawling over their face. 
Nothing Rhymes With Orange, 2022

Nothing rhymes with purlple either, but these are two of my favourite flavours and I will fight you if you pretend not to know what purple tastes like. 
Have A Nice Day, 2022

We mean it mate, we really mean it. All the best to you- have a ab fab time somewhere conveniant and stop bringing the vibe down, flip that frown and stop drying your teeth like a constipated bear. Atta boi. 
Congregation, Murmuration, Murder 2021

Flocking for the long awaited ciggarette break, they approach from all directions. I wonder if Sylwia has a spare pair of tights, the tarmac isn’t really doing it for the toe-nail varnish. I read somewhere that smoking isn’t actually that good for you- neither am I, yet you’re still here.