How it works
No prompts. No image generator. No stranger's taste laid over your song. Resonink listens, and brings the picture already inside the music to the surface. Here is the whole path, from the first moment of sound to the last coat of paint, and the reason every mark is the shape it is.
The idea
Think of a spray-paint machine pointed at music. Resonink reads the feeling in the sound to choose its colors, and reads the tempo, dynamics, and notes to set the nozzle. One signal moves through five stages, each handing the next a more human description of the same moment: numbers become feeling, feeling becomes color, color becomes pigment.
Nothing in the painting is decoration. Every element traces back through this chain to something Resonink actually heard.
Many times a second, Resonink takes a snapshot of the raw sound and measures it. None of these are musical opinions yet: just the plain physics of the moment.
The one that matters most
From how quickly each sound fades and how pitched it is, Resonink reads the gesture playing right now. This is the hinge of the whole engine: articulation decides the medium. It isn't naming instruments; it's the ear's own categories, honestly labeled.
The raw acoustics are folded into a model of emotion built on the same two-axis map psychologists use for mood (pleasant to unpleasant, calm to intense), plus a third axis for how commanding the music feels. Each is a weighted blend of what it heard, never a single cause.
And a word for it
From that emotional position, Resonink names the nearest of thirteen feelings and shows it, quiet and large, over the painting. It's a reading, never a measurement. So the app asks, gently, "does that match?", and learns from the answer. Humor, desire, and irritation stay out of reach on purpose: they aren't in the sound.
Color is a direct reading of the feeling. The angle of that emotional position picks a hue from eight anchors ringing the plane; saturation rises with intensity; brightness follows pleasantness. So the mood owns the color: sad reads cobalt in any key, joy reads amber. The same feeling makes the same color, whatever notes carry it.
The emotion hue is the base. Two optional overlays then spin the wheel by the key or the note being played. That choice is deliberately not about feeling, which is exactly why the default leaves it off.
Pure emotion, no rotation. The anchor hue reaches the canvas intact, so color is a straight readout of feeling.
The mood's family nudged slightly toward the note sounding: a shimmer within the key.
The sounding pitch spins the whole wheel. Melodies iridesce: a pitch visualizer as much as a mood one.
In Blend and Notes, color reports pitch rather than feeling, so the app says so plainly, with a live "color ↔ feeling" meter. The felt word stays true in every mode, because it reads the sound, not the color.
The painting is built from translucent layers, painted back to front over a score staff, each one its own instrument. And here is what the whole app turns on: the music decides how much of each coat appears. The articulation from Stage 01 opens and closes every nozzle. A percussive song sprays and splatters; a sustained song washes and blooms; a clear melody draws a bright line. No coat has a preset. The sound chooses its own medium.
Each coat builds on its own sheet and composites bottom to top. Because they're separate, any layer can be revealed or dimmed after the fact. Turn one back on mid-song and its whole history appears.
One measurement drives both the color and the amount of every coat: articulation. Because color and medium come from the same reading of the same instant, the picture can't drift away from the music. It stays a portrait, not an illustration.
An uploaded track is heard end to end first: its key, tempo, and sections learned before a single mark is made. Then it paints each moment once, and the ring closes exactly on the final bar. The finished sheet is the whole song at once.
The mic and a shared tab react with no foreknowledge: the same listening, live. A live source can't know when the song ends, so the ring never closes; it turns at a steady rate, painting the present as it arrives.
The canvas never clears mid-song. Every coat lies over the last, so the picture you keep is the whole performance, not a snapshot.
The color isn't a guess
Every hue is drawn from published work on the quiet, involuntary way a sound becomes a feeling becomes a color. Nothing random, nothing to taste.
And the quiet last word: it all happens on your device. Your audio is read in the browser and never leaves it: no upload, no account, no recording kept. The painting is the only thing that travels, and only when you export it.
Heard · Felt · Seen
Resonink just brings its color to the surface. Play something you love, and watch the picture that was always inside it.