#MATOX

[matoxxx]

Matox : L’Écriture Asémique Comme Art du Geste et du Vide

L’art de Matox, aka Nuno de Matos, est une plongée radicale dans le monde de l’écriture asémique — un territoire où le sens est absent, mais où le geste et la forme prennent toute leur puissance. Dans un monde saturé de signes et de significations, Matox s’aventure dans une pratique artistique qui dépasse la simple représentation, pour s’intéresser à l’acte même d’écrire, à son abstraction et à son potentiel expressif.

L’écriture asémique : un langage sans signification

L’écriture asémique se définit par le rejet de toute signification conventionnelle. Elle n’est pas conçue pour communiquer un message intelligible, mais pour explorer le geste de l’écriture, son rythme, ses formes et ses nuances visuelles. Imagine des signes et des symboles qui semblent familiers — mais qui ne veulent rien dire. C’est une poésie de l’absence de sens, une invitation à regarder au-delà de ce qui est écrit, pour ressentir la forme, la texture, et l’énergie de l’acte créatif.

Pour Matox, l’écriture n’est plus un moyen de communication, mais un moyen d’expression pure, un terrain où les traces graphiques et les gestes écrits deviennent des éléments visuels autonomes. Dans ses œuvres, des lignes, des boucles et des spirales se croisent, s’entrelacent, formant des compositions qui ne cherchent pas à transmettre des idées, mais à évoquer des émotions, des mouvements, des rythmes internes.

L’acte de dessiner l’écriture

Dans ses performances et ses œuvres murales, Matox fusionne l’écriture avec le dessin. Chaque tracé devient une trace de l’artiste, une empreinte de son corps en mouvement. C’est un peu comme une danse, où la plume ou le pinceau est l’extension du bras, qui dessine une histoire silencieuse, mais vibrante.

Ce geste de l’écriture, libéré de toute contrainte linguistique, se rapproche de l’écriture automatique chère aux surréalistes, mais avec un objectif graphique plus pur. Matox ne cherche pas à décrire, il cherche à exprimer un état intérieur, une sensation brute qui ne se laisse pas capturer par les mots.

Le vide comme porte ouverte à l’inconscient

L’écriture asémique est, par essence, incomplète. Elle n’achève jamais le sens, mais ouvre des espaces. Il y a un vide, une interruption dans la lecture, un flottement qui invite l’observateur à se projeter au-delà du texte. C’est un appel à l’interprétation libre, à l’intuition, à la réflexion. Chaque tracé, chaque boucle peut être perçu différemment, en fonction de celui qui les regarde, en fonction de son propre monde intérieur. Ce vide, loin d’être une absence de sens, devient un mouvement de l’âme, une invitation à se laisser emporter par l’invisible.

Matox et la réinvention de l’écriture dans l’art contemporain

Matox se situe à l’intersection de l’art graphique, de l’écriture expérimentale, et du street art. Il déconstruit les codes de la calligraphie et les transforme en une langue imaginaire, qui appartient à l’art plutôt qu’à la communication. Ce qui est fascinant dans son travail, c’est justement cette évasion du sens traditionnel. Dans un monde où tout est codifié, Matox offre une liberté totale : celle de l’interprétation personnelle et du geste artistique pur.

Un art visuel et tactile

L’art de Matox invite à regarder et ressentir plus qu’à comprendre. Ses œuvres sont des objets à toucher, non seulement dans le sens physique (son travail sur toile, ses performances), mais aussi dans le sens spirituel. Les tracés asémiques qu’il laisse derrière lui sont autant de petites empreintes du subconscient, des réflexions visuelles sur la nature de l’écriture, de l’art et de l’inconscient collectif.

⸻

Conclusion : Un monde de signes inachevés

À travers l’écriture asémique, Matox ne fait pas que remettre en question la fonction de l’écriture, il réinvente un langage, un espace où chaque symbole devient une porte ouverte vers un univers intérieur et poétique. Si tu es amateur de street art, d’art graphique, ou simplement de pratiques artistiques qui explorent les frontières de la forme et du sens, Matox est un artiste à suivre de près. Ses œuvres sont un appel à la liberté créative, un défi lancé à ceux qui croient que l’écriture doit toujours avoir un sens. Dans l’univers de l’asémique, tout est possible, et c’est peut-être là que réside sa beauté.

⸻

#Matox #AsemicWriting #StreetArt #ArtVisuel #Graffiti #Calligraphie #WritingWithoutWords #ArtConceptuel #ExpressionVisuelle #PoésieVisuelle

[atamabs]

Lunes na naman 😵‍💫

Balak ko mag aral ng mas maaga, kasi diba galing tayong off so hindi naman tayo puyat. KAYA LANG ang sakit ng ulo ko. Like legit! Natibok ko sya so pinili kong matulog at nagsimula ako ng 130PM.

Shift was medyo keri. Yung bagong process ng otp ang medyo hassle. Lol kayo naman matoxic dyan di naman kame! Hahahaha. Na sad pala ako, di kasama yung name ko sa may incentives last month. Ewan ko ba, feeling ko kahit ka team kakompitensya ko. Ayoko ng ganto kasi feeling ko kailangan sa isang team, may team work. Hindi yung nagsosolo ka at lalong hindi may kompitensya.

Sabagay, hindi ko maalala kung kailan pero hindi naman ako umasa ng teamwork galing sa team na to.

Anyway, gusto ko na maglunch. Hahahahahaah lunch na kaagad hindi na breakfast 🤣

[andrersanches]

A Gestão é Ágil e Inteligente na Intelligenza!

🔥A #Agilidade está ON na #Lideranca #Gestao e #GestaoInteligente na #Intelligenza

🤗 #tbt da semana passada tive privilégio de representar novamente o Universo Ágil @UniversoAgilHub na turma 2 da Academia de Líderes ITZ Intelligenza @intelligenzait

🎖 Tivemos a oportunidade de explorar e debater novos caminhos de gerar #Resultados com menos #esforço e estratégias práticas para impulsionar desempenho e alcançar metas, inspirando lideranças praticar em agilidade em suas rotinas diárias

🤩 Agradeço a vocês #ProtagonistasAgeis da #Liderança e #Gestão Andressa Ketlyn Antonio C Fávaro Júnior Bruna Ortega Fabiana Mangueira Jair de Antonio Junior Leandro Machado Natalia Ventura Renato Depicoli Rodolfo Basso Ronaldo Cavalcante Thaís Pereira Vanessa Paz Vivian Merxed Smid Wennya Duarte Almeida

🏆 Menção HONROSA a Thiago Matox @thiago.matox que entregou o módulo Employee Experience!

👊 Seja ÁGIL na LIDERANÇA e faça a DIFERENÇA!

LíderDePessoas #AcademiaDeLíderesITZ #GestãoHumanizada #LiderançaComEmpatia #AndreRSanches #UniversoAgil #HubResultados #Treinamentos #Palestras #Mentorias #Workshops #EducacaoCorporativa

[alfieshawfmp]

Asemic Writing

Wikipedia Contributors (2019). Asemic writing [online]. Available from: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Asemic_writing.

Asemic writing is a wordless open semantic form of writing.[2][3][4] The word asemic/eɪˈsiːmɪk/ means "having no specific semantic content", or "without the smallest unit of meaning".

With the non-specificity of asemic writing there comes a vacuum of meaning, which is left for the reader to fill in and interpret. All of this is similar to the way one would deduce meaning from an abstract work of art. Where asemic writing distinguishes itself among traditions of abstract art is in the asemic author's use of gestural constraint, and the retention of physical characteristics of writing such as lines and symbols.

Asemic writing is a hybrid art form that fuses text and image into a unity, and then sets it free to arbitrary subjective interpretations. 

Asemic works leave for the reader to decide how to translate and explore an asemic text; in this sense, the reader becomes co-creator of the asemic work.

Asemic writing occurs in avant-garde literature and art with strong roots in the earliest forms of writing.

Asemic Post-Graffiti from Nuno de Matos (AKA Matox)

I found this style to be something interesting to explore because of its roots in graffiti an symbolism, relating to my shirt idea for Bodiam castle around medieval graffiti and witch runes/symbols.

The technique itself is also proven to help overcome problems such as artist block.

The Wheels of Transformation - Asemic Writing by Tatiana Roumelioti

I'm also seeing this style creep into popularity within contemporary design work on instagram. The style is gaining more attraction across audiences on instagram.

Kristyna Kulikova

www.instagram.comAvailable from: https://www.instagram.com/krstnklkv/ (n.d.). Instagram [online]. [Accessed 23 April 2024].

Artists are incorporating elements of asemics into their design work.

People are fascinated by that which they don't understand.

[ronniegolson]

Come and check Olivia Matox‘s posts in #BIGOLIVE! https://slink.bigovideo.tv/NeiIpM

[alexropefun]

« Alexandre is a multi-skilled artist, community builder and dancer. In his unique approach to Japanese Shibari rope art, he blends various techniques to fuel the creativity of his post-modern Berlin-inspired style. He is strong and sensual, provoking new thoughts and emotions wherever he goes, all the while bringing a calming and connective vibe to his rope sessions, prioritizing the emotional exploration of the person being tied. »

- Senzo Matox, performer artist and co-founder of Érosphère, main festival of erotic arts in Paris, France.

[mauiiix]

That time i ended up chatting you kay gafocus ko sakong studies labaw na si maam L ang maestra napressure ko. Kana na time wako ga expect nga napasakitan diay tika. December nigreet ka nako.. wako kabalo sakong gibati pero mas dako akong kalipay kay nichat ka. Abi kog kamove on nako nimo ana na time pero wa pa. Gipadayon nako akong feelings hantod sa nafall ka nako. Nanguyab ko.. kana na time hantud sa nisugot ka, gihatag nako tanan, love, patience, akong time, akong pagsabot. Gisabot tika sa tanan bisan sakit sakong buot pero sige nalang kay ikaw man. Wala ka kabalo sa tanang iyak nako inig ka gabii kay diko ganahan makonsensya ka kay gaiyak napud ko. Gibuhat nako tanan aron di ta matoxic. Ganahan ko healthy ato relationship. Giantos nako tanan, imong dali ra manluod, imong pagpanluod ig manluod ko, ig muingon ka maghulat ko kay magstorya pata. Buhaton nako ang gagmayng butang kay dira ka mahappy which makes me happy pud. Ipugos nakog ka okay ang tanan basta maokay ka bahalag ako dili. Daghan kog nabuhat nga waka kabalo para lang magwork ato relationship.

One day lang niingon ka nga gireto.. i was hoping nga muingon kag dika ganahan og in ato, nga di ka musugot og unsa ila ganahan sa imo, nga dika maibog og lain. Pero lahi imong gipang ingon. Kasabot rapud ko.. pamilya na nimo kinsa raman ko. Kadaghan ko ga breakdown ana na time, kadaghan ko gaiyak while naligo, kapila ko gabinutbot nila if maghubag ako mata, kadaghan nako gipugos akong kaugalingon magtuon, kadaghan ko gapugos og tan aw nimo ig mag vc ta kay lami kay muiyak madumdoman nako imong gipang tubag. You dont know how broke i am that time. Labaw pang sakit kay ipugos pang kaugalingon nga maokay aron makatuon. Mas sakit pato sakong first heartbreak kong kabalo lang ka. Lami kaayo iuli ato kay gadahan ko diri sa balay mag iyak. Pero wa koy mabuhat.. lami lang sig laag kay aron wakoy madumdoman. Wa ko ga maoy nimo kay mabalaka raka, ni ako mga amiga wa kabalo ana.

Nigive up ko ato na time nga wala jud tay future duha tungod sa kung unsa ako nakuha nga response sa imoha. Wakoy mabuhat kong family nimo imohang pilion. Gisabot nako na tanan bisan labag sa akoa. Wasab ko gadahom nga maing ani ang tanan. Sakit kaayo makadungog sa imohang hilak, sa imohang mga kasakit. Sakit kaayo jud pero di nako ipugos ako kaugalingon og mao man gani maka disappoint nimo sa imohang family. Di man kay naa koy feelings sa lain, akoang gihunahuna ikaw. Ganahan ko pilion nimo imohang family.

[nitrateglow]

Halloween 2017 movie marathon: The Cat and the Canary (dir. Paul Leni, 1927)

“You must have been lonely these twenty years, Mammy Pleasant.”

“I don’t need the living ones.”

Driven to near-madness and physical decline by his greedy relatives, eccentric millionaire Cyrus West dies in his gothic mansion—however, he orders that his will not be read for another twenty years. Two decades come and go, and a quirky collection of West’s living relatives gather at the mansion to find out who gets the money. The lucky heir is the sweet-natured Annabelle West (Laura La Plante), but before she can claim her inheritance, she must be examined by a doctor who will certify whether or not she is sane. If so, she gets the money, family diamonds, and Cyrus’s creepy but big mansion. If not, she gets an extended stay at an asylum and the money goes to a mysterious runner-up heir, whose identity is sealed away in another envelope. Annabelle is decidedly the sanest of the lot of her bizarre relations, which include her nerdy and stammering cousin Paul (Creighton Hale), snobby and suspicious Aunt Susan (Flora Finch), (Forrest Stanley), the suave but mysterious Doctor (Arthur Edmund Carewe), and the chic but catty (Gertrude Astor), but as the night wears on, her nerves are subjected to unexplained disappearances, murders, and being stalked through the night by what could either be a ghost or an escaped madman from the local mental hospital. Whether the origins of these occurrences are supernatural or crime-related, it becomes clear someone wants to drive Annabelle insane and take her fortune, but who could it be?

Horror didn’t become a cinematic staple in the United States until the enormous success of Tod Browning’s Dracula in 1931; however, there were a few key Hollywood films during the silent era which paved the way for the terrors to come. The Phantom of the Opera is the most celebrated of them as it teems with suspense and gothic set design-- and that’s not mentioning Lon Chaney’s iconic monster make-up which left patrons screaming in the aisles. The Cat and the Canary is the second-most influential pre-Dracula American horror picture. While not as embedded in the popular culture as Phantom, it was one of the biggest hits of its day and remains a favorite of silent film aficionados. The cast sports a host of character actors familiar to lovers of 1910s and 1920s Hollywood cinema, and the visuals—oh Lord, the visuals are the true star, pure gothic expressionism mixed with innovative camerawork that should strike down the idea that all movies were “filmed stage plays” before Citizen Kane.

As you can likely see from the plot summary above, the storyline of The Cat and the Canary will likely appear familiar, even creaky, to contemporary viewers. It’s a classic old dark house mystery, with a bevy of strange characters trapped in a menacing setting, freaking out as things go bump in the night. This film and its 1922 stage play source material are often classified as dark comedy, as there is quite a bit of comic relief throughout due to how weird the characters are and how they react to the mayhem around them. However, the horror elements are strong enough to make this more than your standard drawing room murder-mystery: director Paul Leni and cinematographer Gilbert Warrenton create an uneasy atmosphere from the first scenes where we learn about the death of Cyrus West, how he was driven to his grave by his cruel, avarice-ridden relatives. In a symbolic sequence, we see Cyrus in his pajamas dwarfed by large, double-exposed images of cats baring their fangs and swiping at him with large, clawed paws. It sounds corny when I describe it, but the effect it has when you actually watch it is chilling and effective.

After this prologue, we’re treated to a first-person POV tracking shot through the gloomy corridors of the mansion, curtains flapping about in the wind as the camera glides about in the ghostliest manner before we arrive at the safe where the will lies hidden. As you watch this movie, the one motif which resonates throughout is the image of hands. Hands grasping at jewelry or throats, hands tentatively outstretched, hands breaking through locks and windows—even the paws of the giant, expressionistic cats are part of this visual thread. These images help establish the menace of the situation as well as emphasize the greed that motivates so many of these characters. It’s a little bit of a shame that the plot is so basic in comparison to the elaborate cinematography and expressionistic visual symbolism. It isn’t a bad story by any means and there are several suspenseful moments to be found, one just wishes for a bit more meat or a more interesting protagonist to follow.

Even if the visuals and atmosphere are what make the movie for the most part, The Cat and the Canary is nevertheless a fun and spooky romp, featuring good comic performances from its cast. Laura La Plante was Universal’s most popular female star throughout most of the 1920s, though she is mostly forgotten today; this film remains her most remembered role, if only because the image of the clawed hands grasping at her throat as she sleeps is so iconic. As Annabelle, she isn’t given too much to do other than be bewildered and frightened, though her cool blonde style gives her the feel of a Hitchcock heroine in some scenes. Her thin characterization likely stems from the fact that Annabelle is the de facto everywoman character, the one spot of normalcy among these eccentrics. Even so, one wishes she was allowed to be at least a little bit more unique—though it would be hard to compete with the other actors in this movie. If you’re a silent movie nerd like me, then this movie is a practical who’s-who when it comes to character actors. Creighton Hale, a heart-throb of the 1910s who played Prince Charming in the 1916 Snow White which inspired a fifteen-year-old Walt Disney, plays the nerdy love interest Paul. George Siegmann, most known for his villain parts, is a creepy asylum employee who hopes to get someone in a straightjacket before the night is up. Annabelle’s fashionable flapper cousin Cecily is played by Hal Roach regular Gertrude Astor. My choice for best performance goes to Martha Mattox as the dour housemaid, ironically called “Mammy Pleasant” by the other characters. The only inhabitant of the manor for the past twenty years, she is enamored by her late master and spends much of the time almost savoring the discomfort of the frightened guests. The characters are all broad types rather than fully fleshed out beings, but such an approach fits the material.

The Cat and the Canary was not only a big box office hit, but also a huge influence for later filmmakers, most famously James Whale. Whale’s 1932 horror-comedy The Old Dark House replicates the look of this movie down to the eerie image of curtains billowing in a shadowy hallway. Later on, even Jean Cocteau seems to have mined Leni’s film for visual inspiration in his moody 1946 adaptation of Beauty and the Beast. Just watch that scene where Belle levitates down a corridor with billowing curtains and tell me you don’t get flashbacks to The Cat and the Canary! However, it is Whale’s The Old Dark House to which this film is often compared. To watch the two of them back-to-back could be an interesting experience: the humor in Whale’s film is much quirkier, the inhabitants of the eponymous house far more sinister, and the guests possess more depth on the whole, from Charles Laughton’s bitter widower to Gloria Stuart’s vain yet disillusioned socialite. Still, without Leni’s film, that movie might not be the masterpiece of horror-comedy we know and love now. Whale took the lessons he learned from Leni and pushed them further into weird territory. Yet even so, the camera movements and overlapping imagery in this film are sophisticated, in their own way superior to the later movie. Dammit, both are great—let’s leave it at that!

While the general concept may be dated, The Cat and the Canary is still an impressive film. It’s a lot of fun and the granddaddy of horror-comedy classics to follow, from The Old Dark House to the Evil Dead films. If you wonder why people thought sound films were a fad in the late 1920s, then the dazzling cinematography of even genre pictures like this should give you a good idea as to why.

[nice2meetyouu]

Kinoconsider kong mag-surgery pero kanina pagod na pagod akong mag-retract so magdadalawang-isip muna ako. Ayoko bang matulog for another 5 yrs? Gusto ko bang matoxic ng mga toxic na kasamahan? Pera ang nagpapasaya sa akin pero 'di ko naman handang gawin ang lahat para sa pera.

[noise-vs-signal]

“Asemic writing, abstract calligraphy” by Matox (Nuno de Matos) (2010)

[matoxxx]

Beyond Words: Matox, Gysin, Dermišache & Twombly — The Liberation of Writing

In contemporary art, certain artists have chosen to unlearn writing — to detach it from communication and transform it into a visual, instinctive, poetic act. They do not seek to mean, but to mark, to trace, to record presence. Their works speak without saying and write without words. Matox, Brion Gysin, Marta Dermišache, and Cy Twombly each, in their own way, belong to a lineage of language disobedience, where writing is no longer read but experienced as gesture, texture, and abstraction.

⸻

Matox: The Calligrapher of the Intangible

Matox (Nuno de Matos) operates in the liminal space between street art, lyrical abstraction, and asemic calligraphy. His work dismantles the very idea of alphabet. The letters dissolve, replaced by fluid, gestural strokes, where movement precedes meaning. Matox paints as one writes emotion — without naming it. The result is an asemic language, free of code, a rhythm of signs that resemble a forgotten or future tongue.

His art evokes the speed of tagging, yet with a ritual, almost meditative intensity. His lines move with the energy of improvisation but carry a clear sense of inner necessity. The white background — the blank page — becomes a field of transmission, where writing escapes legibility and becomes pure presence. It echoes Brion Gysin’s vision of “writing outside of syntax” — a break from the tyranny of meaning.

⸻

Brion Gysin: Language as Sabotage

Visionary artist and poet Brion Gysin famously co-created the cut-up technique with William Burroughs, slicing through language to reveal the unconscious underneath. Gysin viewed language as a cage — a system of mental control. His visual writing, deeply influenced by Arabic calligraphy and Sufi mysticism, blurs the boundary between symbol and image.

Where Matox is intuitive and bodily, Gysin is ritualistic and cerebral. His obsession with automatic writing and repetition reflects a desire to tap into states beyond language, channeling gestures from a deeper, unfiltered place. Matox resonates with this — though his style is rooted in contemporary abstraction and urban influences, he shares with Gysin the impulse to let the hand lead, not the intellect.

⸻

Marta Dermišache: Writing as Silent Architecture

The work of Marta Dermišache, the late Argentine artist now receiving long-overdue recognition, presents a quieter yet radical dismantling of language. For decades, she created manuscripts, letters, and “texts” that contain no words at all. Her invented scripts mimic the structures of communication — columns, paragraphs, line breaks — without delivering any message.

Dermišache’s work is less about gesture and more about presence and rhythm. She builds visual syntax, a kind of silent architecture of language. Her “writings” cannot be translated — they are private, perhaps even meditative. This refusal of clarity echoes Matox’s own compositions, which float in a space between chaos and clarity, sensation and void. Both create forms that evoke the feeling of language without delivering its function.

⸻

Cy Twombly: The Memory of the Hand

No discussion of writing in visual art is complete without Cy Twombly, master of the scribble, the scrawl, the erased word. His works often include legible fragments — names, dates, mythologies — but they are half-remembered, barely there, as though caught mid-thought. Twombly’s writing is not semantic; it’s emotional, embodied memory in motion.

Like Matox, Twombly treats writing as gesture, as trace, as evidence of a lived interiority. His surfaces are alive with tension — between control and release, knowledge and forgetting. Both artists emphasize the physicality of mark-making: the tremor of the hand, the friction of thought trying to become form. In this way, the act of writing becomes a dance between presence and erasure.

⸻

Toward a Sensory Language: Writing Beyond Language

What connects Matox, Gysin, Dermišache, and Twombly is not simply a shared aesthetic, but a shared refusal — a refusal to let language dictate form. Instead, they reclaim writing as a space of freedom, of personal myth, of non-verbal resonance. Their work asks: What happens when writing no longer needs to be read? What if it’s enough for it to be felt?

Together, these artists carve out a space where language becomes visual matter, where meaning is elusive but emotion is immediate. They do not communicate in the conventional sense — instead, they create open fields of interpretation, where the viewer is invited to read with the eyes, the body, the intuition.

In a world saturated with words, this visual language of silence, trace, and abstraction offers a radical alternative: a writing that resists decoding, yet insists on being seen.

⸻

#Matox #BrionGysin #MartaDermisache #CyTwombly #AsemicWriting #VisualLanguage #ContemporaryArt #WritingAsArt #GestureInArt #NonVerbalCommunication #CuratorialEssay #nunodematos

[hypixelskyblock]

a joke was made about the hunter artifact in my guilds chat and it lead to me and  another person convincing like 5 people that slayer v2 had come out and that you had to jump in the void in the right spot in the end to unlock “end matox” so that you could do zealot slayer. 

[mjoyingmylife]

You told me i was kind of intimidating, nanonoxic pero mabait naman after endorsement. 👅 Willing ka naman matoxic ko for the rest of your life ayt? Hahaha
He also expected that Im gonna look pretty this day kasi galing off 😂 📸

[rolandopujol]

The Mahoning Drive-in, celebrating its 70th anniversary this summer, is near and dear to my heart. I used to pass it all the time many years ago, when I was the bureau chief of the Morning Call newspaper in this Carbon County borough of Lehighton, Pennsylvania. I was fascinated by this place, yet never got around to writing a story about it. Years after my journalism adventures took me back to New York, I’d often think of the Mahoning and wonder how it was faring. Between my last visit during my Pennsylvania days in 2001 and June of this year, when I took these shots, a lot happened: The Mahoning almost became another sad statistic in the slow purge that has claimed 92 percent of America’s drive-in theaters, which peaked around 4,000 in 1958. But this theater, it has a funny way of getting into people’s hearts, in a ventricle where logic and reason stand no chance. Last night, I watched “At the Drive-in,” a wonderful documentary about the selfless folks who have kept this place alive. The costly transition to digital projection should have killed this theater, but instead, they opted to go retro, showing only classic 35-millimeter prints of films, beamed from twin 70-year-old Simplex E7 projectors onto a rare CinemaScope screen. They even created an ingenious digital projection system (for $5,000 versus the usual six figures) for the playback of VHS tapes. Kudos to projectionist Jeff Mattox, who had the good fortune of teaming with film enthusiasts Virgil Cardamone and Matt McClanahan, the ownership trio who stumbled upon a winning formula premised on nostalgia — and heart. They get invaluable assistance from equally selfless employees. Nobody’s making any money here, the film explains. One fellow drives down every week from New England to help keep the Mahoning alive. Please see the documentary and visit if you can — this is the last drive-in in the nation showing movies on film, with all those wonderful hairs, cue blips, lines and scratches. Analog, the way it was meant to be. There’s room for 1,000 cars on this vast field. This place won’t survive if people don’t keep turning out to keep this tradition alive. Maybe I’ll see you there. #retrologist 
(at The Mahoning Drive-In Theater)
https://www.instagram.com/p/B1kClKHluV1/?igshid=gly4jlrdgj7a

[againstourloneliness]

Loki X Matoxic (Canon X Oc)

[chasejohnsonfoto]

Tip toein' with Magen in downtown LA🌹