1. something that makes things visible or affords illumination
1. anything done, being done, or to be done
2. the process of doing: caught in the act
3. a law or statute
Light Acts was an exploration of subtle gestures or delicate interventions, the atmospheric and literal presence of absence, and the significant details found within indistinct lines, objects, and spaces.
John Askew's photographs have turned there backs on the gallery. The flowers look away - silent and fragile - yet holding a compelling presence. Their white petals almost indistinguishable from their white surroundings. They are pictures of a flower in which the flower is almost not there at all. Absent too, is the collaborative installation by Lynn Lu and Mitzi Pederson, which mirrored these qualities of delicacy and strength - an immersive visual and physical experience in which details must be discovered. Lu and Pederson were caught in the Act that makes, making art, in the UK illegal, without a work permit. They were compelled to withdraw to avoid potential prosecution both to themselves, and to Guest Projects.
Light Acts instead included sculptures - both of weight and light - by Mary Hurrell. These pieces are white, with sensual organic forms atop an airy pedestal that exist only as a frame. The substance of the forms float on structures defying heft and mass.
Lee Triming presented “Light-Time Correction”, an open invitation for gallery visitors and a group of invited artists to discuss the works both present in, and absent from, the space, as well as the situation linking the two. The term "light-time correction" is used to describe a displacement in the apparent position of a celestial object from its true position caused by the object's motion during the time its light takes to reach an observer. Those present will have the chance to discuss issues raised by this phenomenon - such as absence, parallax and delay - and how the exhibition that would have been haunts the exhibition that will be.
John Askew has written about his work: ‘My first camera was a 21st birthday present from my father. A Pentax MX. Sometimes presents can be things that you don't really like or want but I remember treasuring this. I recall taking some photographs of some steep steps in Newcastle. At home I took a picture of a floral patterned waste bin in a flowerbed. There was also one of my mum and dad in bed on Christmas morning. It didn't come out right as light got into the back of the camera and distorted the colours. That fascinated me. My father was wearing red paisley pyjamas and my mother a light blue dressing gown. My dad was half in and half out the light.’
Lee Triming is a London-based artist and writer interested in relations between abstraction, post-structuralist metaphysics and traditions of occult thought.