In Daniel Unverricht's new series Full Dark, we traverse a broken narrative, skirting the margins of a New Zealand town through places left behind.

Dimly lit, Unverricht’s isolated spaces are bereft of human presence; doors are closed, windows latched, and yards vacant. In the work Shelter, shadow and light chase one another across a lone red door, the interplay of day and night alluding to possibilities both promising and foreboding. But darkness has not fully consumed Unverricht's town. Fickle illumination cast by waning street lamps, discoloured floodlights or the approaching dawn offer a catharsis from the night and its obscurity.

In Wick, the Royal Oak hotel stands as an imposing solitary figure along the roadside, familiar yet removed from time or place. While its curtains are drawn, the main entrance is left agape, offering a partial view of the interior within, which emanates a sickly neon light and hums with the implicit invitation to enter.

Customary of Unverricht paintings, the scene is at once alluring and unnerving, its internal glow ripe with the promise of an unlikely asylum or shelter from the surrounding dark. There is an ocular power imbalance inherent to this dynamic. Though the light beckons nonetheless; an irresistible lure to those longing for connection. To those that belong but do not quite belong together.