Haunting secrets of the night

July 07, 2010|Cate McQuaid, Globe Correspondent

Americans don’t sleep enough. We can’t sleep; we suffer sleep disorders; we take sleeping pills. Like insomniacs, Robert Knight’s camera stays awake and observant through the night, as he records his subjects tossing and turning.

In his photographs at Gallery Kayafas, light takes on a hallowed glow as it enters the darkened room and the camera lens. Everything inanimate remains still and crisp, while all that moves — the body on the bed — blurs close to oblivion. Knight prints his photos on watercolor paper. The nap (pardon the pun) is evident, imbuing these images with a painterly feel. They are lush, dark, and occasionally incandescent, hushed but ablaze with apparitions.

“Untitled (3 hours, 30 minutes, December 1, 2009)’’ depicts a child who sleeps with a red nightlight, which shines like an ember amid the fog and tumble of linens, even as the moon casts a pale blue light over the indeterminate lump. The tones mingle into purple. This is all in ephemeral motion, while the corners of pillows and bed stay steady and defined near the edges of the frame.

Knight includes smaller prints with audio of night sounds, as well as two videos, including “Untitled (Self-Portrait, 7 hours, 15 minutes, May 13-14, 2010),’’ which is projected onto a giant pillow. It’s an excerpt of a night, shot mostly in one-minute morsels from a camera directly above the artist’s pillow. At the beginning, he reads; at the end he wakes, and sounds of children calling prompt him to rise.

It’s a captivating and unnerving video, as Knight invites viewers into this intimate encounter. When he wakes, he stares into the camera and at us, as if he’s caught us watching. All of the works in this show feel close to intrusive, but because they’re so artful and haunting, and because the night seems to have secrets worth exploring, it’s somehow all right.

Moving furniture

Jenna Goldberg has many cabinets on view in her show at Gallery NAGA, and by and large they’re basic, boxy, basswood pieces with doors and shelves. But carved, painted, and printed designs swim over them, inside and out, activating the ordinary cabinets into something unexpectedly magical, like the wardrobe entrance to Narnia.

Goldberg’s “Falling Water Cabinet’’ is wardrobe-size. Deep blue at the bottom, it gradually brightens toward the top. Reeds and lotus blossoms float over the surface, drawn in paint and carved out of the wood. Loops and spirals carved out of the blue suggest water currents. Goldberg points to Japanese art and textiles as an inspiration, and the kinship is evident.

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