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Justas Pipinis, Laine Stewart, Josh Wilson, Nina Wright

In November we will track the light that comes through our gallery window.

Opening Event :

Thursday 12 November, 6 - 9pm

Continues :

12 November - 28 November

Thursdays 6pm - 8pm

Saturdays 10am - 4pm

When the light glances on the left wall, crawls down, walks the floor, and climbs up on the right before exiting the room – that’s Earth spinning. In November, the path of light inches closer to the window each day – that’s Earth orbiting the Sun at an angle. The window’s northerly orientation and surrounding buildings impose their own limits on the visitation, while the weather decides how focused or diffused it will be. It’s like the whole Universe, from the planetary to the human to the subatomic, is collaborating on the shapes the light draws on the gallery surfaces day after day.

Trying to pin them down is a rather silly, tautological effort. And yet, humanity has always been obsessed with replication, as if the original, true world wasn't enough. Plato believed physical reality is already an imperfect shadow of the ideal forms, making art an imitation of an imitation, twice removed from truth and therefore good for nothing. Aristotle, by contrast, saw it as an active selection and structuring of human action toward empathy and catharsis. While 19th-century Realist painters aimed to depict middle- and lower-class social conditions and natural light accurately, later theorists like Jacques Derrida questioned whether an original reality even exists behind our representations.

A strange tension prevails between the falsity of representation, which is never the thing it aims to represent, and the truthfulness of its material existence in the world, nevertheless. As we scramble to capture a moment, to grasp and recreate the world as we know it, we inevitably change it. So here we are, tracking the light, expecting an unexpected enlightenment.

Text by Justas Pipinis