Harley Oliver - Dad Took a Picture
Harley Oliver's latest series 'Dad Took A Picture' considers what has gone and what remains with the passing of time. Gaps in memory mirror the gap in time between us and the figures, leaving holes in the images where faces are unrecognised and relationships are unknown. @stanleysgallery @stanley_street_gallery #StanleyStreetGallery
Address: 1/52-54 Stanley Street Gallery, Darlinghurst. Sydney.
Date: 10th August - 3rd September
Time: Wednesday - Friday 11- 6pm. Saturday 11am -5pm. Closed on Public holidays.
Ticket: free
Web: www.stanleystreetgallery.com.au
: www.facebook.com/StanleyStreetGallery
: https://twitter.com/stanleysgallery
: www.instagram.com/stanley_street_gallery
: https://au.pinterest.com/stanleysgallery/
EMail: mail@stanleystreetgallery.com.au
Call: 02 9368 1142
Date: 10th August - 3rd September
Time: Wednesday - Friday 11- 6pm. Saturday 11am -5pm. Closed on Public holidays.
Ticket: free
Web: www.stanleystreetgallery.com.au
: www.facebook.com/StanleyStreetGallery
: https://twitter.com/stanleysgallery
: www.instagram.com/stanley_street_gallery
: https://au.pinterest.com/stanleysgallery/
EMail: mail@stanleystreetgallery.com.au
Call: 02 9368 1142
Time erodes. It slides across a scene like a second shutter, obliterating narrative.
Everyone has old family photos and as a kid you grow up with the stories that go with them. My dad took lots of photos and whenever we went through them he could provide a pretty good running commentary about who was who and how their lives had played out. But now, there's often a gap in the narration, I don't remember the details as he did. I wish I'd written down who everyone was and dad's gone now. So faces look out, absorbed in that moment in their life but they are people in a photo who've lost their story. Their context is gone. All that remains is dad's cryptic fragments of description. Hints of a story. How fragile we seem. Time pushes us aside.
These paintings are about time, that corrosive shutter.
Everyone has old family photos and as a kid you grow up with the stories that go with them. My dad took lots of photos and whenever we went through them he could provide a pretty good running commentary about who was who and how their lives had played out. But now, there's often a gap in the narration, I don't remember the details as he did. I wish I'd written down who everyone was and dad's gone now. So faces look out, absorbed in that moment in their life but they are people in a photo who've lost their story. Their context is gone. All that remains is dad's cryptic fragments of description. Hints of a story. How fragile we seem. Time pushes us aside.
These paintings are about time, that corrosive shutter.