ultraviolence (2021)
Kate Dunn (b.1993)
ultraviolence, 2021
Pigment, acrylic paint and spray paint on panel
29.7 cm × 21 cm
Private collection of the author
October. The heating goes on, the clocks go back and daylight hours noticeably dwindle. It’s the month when everyone starts wishing they could fly away someplace warm until Christmas, but I love it because it means I once again get to see some art in my flat that’s been hiding and hibernating all summer, right there in plain sight.
I first discovered the work of Kate Dunn in a pitch-black basement as I slowly made my way through her exhibit with a UV torch, trying to escape the “fantastically loud music” that had been playing in the main room. I was ready to press pause after 30 seconds but the gallery warned me it would last seven minutes, so I set off to explore the room next door. It all felt a bit “Indiana Jones and the Overly Loud Nightclub” but the show was actually titled The Tabernacle: Welcome to Pharmakon.
Taking place in June 2021, it was one of the first art exhibits to open post-COVID. It was heavily influenced by religion and raves, two things noted for imparting feelings that everyone in the world desperately needed at that time: emancipation, ascension, reverence and release. Dunn commented that the show was “built around an unexpected gaping hole that lockdown created in me: the party shaped hole.” Raves were never my scene, but I’m in awe at the power that dance has to transform people. It’s a portal that releases inner hedonists unto the world, enabling a freedom of expression through movements that linger inside all of us, waiting for the right soundtrack, or sometimes substance, to help them escape.
Dunn’s visual works convey the idea of reverence and release, of inner light and energy bursting to get out, through the use of phosphorescent paint. They have one appearance in normal light, but their photoluminescent properties will reflect back different colours under a UV spectrum that further charges them, creating a third display of luminescence, with hues and colours you can only see once all the lights have been extinguished. In a pitch black environment, their eerie glow will illuminate the room. It’s a reminder of life, and that someone has already been to see them.
I acquired two works from the show. They’re hung at the bottom of a stairwell in a windowless entrance to my flat. I see them whenever I enter and exit, but in the summer when ambient light fills the flat until 10pm at night I often forget that these pieces have secrets to reveal. They’re like magicians hiding things up their sleeves, and it’s not until the darker, winter months when the stairwell becomes unnavigable without a light that I am more frequently reminded of their hidden secrets. Often, as I reach to flip the light switch, I’ll decide instead to shine a UV torch on them, exposing their in-between state and giving them a charge that often lasts well past midnight. Sometimes when I wake up in the middle of the night I wander down to catch a glimpse of their glow.
I love how the yellow base can only be seen in daylight. It disappears completely in the dark, giving way to greenish-yellow swirls that only materialise after they’ve been charged by the UV light. I love how the whites turn blue and the pinks glow like neon when seen under a black light. Those same pinks become a subtle maroon glow once all the lights are off.
Dunn’s exhibition of UV works were the first use of black light that I had seen in decades, but I’ve always been fascinated by the technology. Readers that are Gen X or older will probably have fond memories of black light band posters and teenage roller discos filled with neon wheels and shoelaces that glow in the dark. Being able to see something that you couldn’t see in broad daylight was both a novelty and a fascination, a mysterious window hinting at another dimension. But is black light paint just a gimmick? That’s a question I’ve debated about these works.
Each has an interesting abstract composition, although admittedly not interesting enough to repeatedly engage me. But that’s ok, since none of the images was intended to be a stand-alone artwork. They were made with visual transformation in mind, and specifically one that comes about from viewer interaction, courtesy of the UV torch the gallery included with my purchase.
That’s why I like it.
You can’t beat a 3-for-1 deal!
Additional reading:
Artist website: k8dunn.org
Artist instagram: @bellissi.mama
The Tabernacle: Welcome to Pharmakon (gallery page)
The Tabernacle: Welcome to Pharmakon (artist’s page)
Previously, on Why I Like It:
Sep — Fourth Plinth (1841), Sir Charles Barry
Aug — Soundsuit (2010), Nick Cave
Jul — Anhelos (2016), Andrea Ringeling