The works in My Voice Went Soft began as still lifes assembled in te Poele's studio, heritage objects placed alongside things she found along the way: fruit, branches, a stray bit of glitter. Titles surface during the making, often as passing thoughts caught mid-sentence, half-doubting themselves even as they land. Could This Be the Moving Soap Dispenser, Euh No... carries that same hesitation: a moment of almost recognition, where an ordinary object briefly becomes something else entirely, before the artist and the viewer catch themselves.

Across the series, meaning stays loose rather than fixed. Objects drift between roles, familiar and unfamiliar at once, resisting any single reading. What remains is not a conclusion but a tone: playful, unresolved, and quietly persistent, a voice that hasn't stopped speaking, even as it softens.

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