In his exhibition Interstice Daniel Unverricht presents a suite of nocturne environs: abandoned and derelict, permeated by a dense night that is punctuated only by the artificial glow of waning streetlights or flickering neon signs. Though the phosphorescence does little to inject any warmth into these compositions, illuminating the exteriors of vacant domiciles and circuitous backstreets while casting surrounding territories into darkness.

The effect is at once alluring and disconcerting, arousing a sense of unease that is difficult to reconcile. What are these places? Where are they, and how? What dwells behind closed doors, boarded up windows, around corners, beyond the frame, between spaces? The uncertainty is palpable; in some instances oppressive. The promise of a false oasis beckons nonetheless.

Defined both as ‘a space that intervenes between things’ and ‘a short space of time between events’, the title ‘interstice’ speaks to the claustrophobic anticipation we’ve become all too familiar with in the era of pandemic-induced lockdowns and rampant paranoia.