Wednesday, 29 August 2012

Crisis of faith

I wrote this in early July, the day our friends lost their perfect, beautiful daughter before she was born. I'm still not ready to confront the feelings and doubts it provoked. This was my outpouring on the day:


The last day and a half has been hard.
Emotionally hard and spiritually hard.
Yesterday a friend had to give birth to a baby she knew had already died. At 39 weeks gestation, this poor woman had to go through the pain and trauma of an induced labour with no promise of joy at the end, no heartbeat, only sadness and grief.
I am devastated. I am heartbroken. I am angry. I am full of doubt and my hope is faded.
My earliest memories are of bedtime. Every night my mum promised that she loved me, and Jesus loved me even more. I have been told my whole life long that God is love. I have believed my whole life long that God is love, and that God knows all things, is in all things and is all powerful.
I have known grief before. And heartbreak. And loss. I have seen and known death in its injustice and finality. I have seen the Lord give and the Lord take away. But yesterday was the first day on which I couldn’t stop thinking if God is love, He cannot be all powerful, and if He is all powerful he cannot be love. This is too cruel, too cold, too final and hopeless.
Why? What if? Why? Where is the miracle? Where is the mercy? Where is the kindness and comfort and love? I don’t see them, I can’t see them. 

Dan O'Day at photoaccess


Dan O’Day – I closed my eyes and saw this
Huw Davies Gallery
Photoaccess at Manuka Arts Centre
Corner Manuka Circle and NSW Crescent, Griffith

Until 2 September
I closed my eyes and saw this is a welcome return to the Huw Davies Gallery for Canberra-based artist Dan O’Day. O’Day has been a regular contributor to group shows at Photoaccess, but this is his first solo outing in Canberra since Still in 2006. The emerging talent which was on display in that, his first photographic show, has been refined in the intervening years to reveal the rare and wonderful product of a natural gift combining with a dedication to craft.
O’Day’s approach to image-making reflects his previous incarnation as a painter. His images are carefully constructed—from concept to story board, from staging to printing—and privilege surface, composition and, above all, the creative process. These are images born in the mind of the artist and realised through complex and painstaking enactment. Artist, model and landscape collaborate to create moments of solemn stillness and fleeting fantasy. The photographic medium, its immediacy and capacity for unmediated truth-telling, is subverted in a highly self-conscious manipulation of time and space.
Many of the images are taken at break of day, or the last moments of twilight. Limited light leads to creeping shadows and subtle silhouettes. The models are pictured alone in forest, field and hillside, often from behind, their stature dwarfed by the immensity of the natural setting. Tiny figures placed in overwhelming outdoor surroundings were a hallmark of high Romanticism, and O’Day adopts this visual trope to explore solitude and stillness in a time when such moments are rarely chanced upon.
It is noteworthy that the artist says he has become more comfortable with stillness since 2006. In his artist’s statement he notes, “that ‘stillness’ I used to run from, I now find myself running toward”. The visual realisation of this pursuit of silent moments of immobility has produced emotionally complex results. Rather than simple stillness, the models seem caught in pensive sadness, the darkness seems to encroach rather than recede. Compared to the images from Still, this collection of works is decidedly darker. There are no colourful balloons injecting their joyous whimsy into these lonely landscapes. Where O’Day’s earlier models seemed to dance and frolic through the frame, these models stand or sit, firmly grounded in space. Is Little Red Rosie running from the big bad wolf? Has the girl in One Day lost sight of her dreams in the scribbled frenzy which threatens to invade her reverie? This body of work reveals the oppressive power of stillness and darkness, the questions and the uncertainty to be glimpsed in moments snatched from the frenzy of life.
A selection of smaller prints is also on display at Photoaccess. These works, sourced from O’Day’s archives, provide a glimpse of a more spontaneous and unscripted aspect of his practice: tiny figures walk, dance and swim in playful settings, trees stretch against a boundless sky.
O’Day pays the bills as a wedding photographer, and his romantic sensibilities translate easily across commercial and artistic pursuits. This collection of images confirms his ability and his sensitivity, a combination of melancholy, menace and mystery which reveals moments of magic.