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Robert Harrison

Linda Durham Contemporary Art Gallery

You catch a strange air of nostalgia from Robert Harrison’s photographs, as though you were seeing a dream someone else had but couldn’t quite remember, and Harrison was trying to remember it for them, for you. It’s as if he were trying to pinpoint all the moments where things might have gone wrong—all the instants of lost time—and capture them forever.

Looking at this work is like sitting in a darkened room. The room is silent, mostly, except for the sounds of fabric rustling, and breathing, and people shifting their weight to one side or another. It is a sound like a large animal, sleeping, restless. Then there is another sound—a clattering noise, gears whirring, teeth meshing, wheels spinning. At which point a light comes on, it flickers in time to the noise, it fills the screen in front of you, lambent silver, gleaming white. And then gray: numbers, reeling off one by one. But backward,

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