Exposure (five hours of light)

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1 July 2005

Water, light, dye destruction print

160 x 190 cm / 63 x 75 "

 

 

Installation from the exhibition HOME

at the Royal Albert Memorial Museum, Exeter.

29 March - 24 June 2012

 

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Exposure (five hours of light)

Read more

1 July 2005

Water, light, dye destruction print

160 x 190 cm / 63 x 75 "

 

 

Wordsworth used to write his poetry when walking along the public roads at night, because those were the circumstances in which he could best feel that the world had other worlds folded into it. On the empty, palely gleaming road, his own past, his own self and his sense of the spiritualised within the material world could all take their place in his mind. It is one of the reasons that so many of Garry Fabian Miller’s rich and other wordly images seem to hint at an island condition, a half-distant world removed beyond the sea, or the cosmic equivalent of that, a dark planet burning in an even darker sky. This is not darkness visible—there is nothing Satanic here— but it is perhaps the better twin of that, the light-filled dark, 'the majesty of darkness' in Milton’s phrase.

 

 

The poetry of Fabian Miller’s images, as of the tradition from which he comes, draws its lifeblood not from things growing, nor as they are dead, but as they are, perhaps half-erotically, unmade. And so it is the suggestion, the half-said thing, the half-known place which turns out to be more gripping than the flatly said, the blankly known and the clearly aligned.

This molten margin has been a constant in the English mind, from the great Anglo-Saxon poems of disintegration and ruin, to Sir Thomas Malory’s Morte Darthur where love and death dance through an imagined and fading world, to Tennyson and TS Eliot: all of them find a deep, rich and melancholy music in places that are dissolving as you watch.

 

 

And here Fabian Miller joins his tradition: he is putting on a show, which requires ingenuity and technical expertise and which uses those qualities to introduce his audience to the sublime, to something which exudes ambivalence, the transient-universal, the dark-light, the miniature vastness of imagined worlds.

 

[The Colour of Time by Garry Fabian Miller, from the essay ‘The Majesty of Darkness’ by Adam Nicolson. Black Dog, London 2010.]

 

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