One is an island lost in a sea of others or alone haplessly adrift. These are just two of the impressions that one could garner from the photographic work of Robyn Cumming; another may be a state of denial. Her large photographs depict images of people, but not conventionally positioned, as one might find in posed portraits or even in the fast and immediate images captured from a digital camera. Her representations rather, capture moments that one may find uncomfortable to document, spaces between, the slippages that occur within ones constructed vision or version of the experience of reality. These are the spaces most often abrogated, in order for one to establish and render personal truth. The work in Little Legs, she writes, was inspired by her father’s loss of his legs and his insistence that he was born with miniature legs, these tiny replica’s replacing the ones that he once stood on.[i] Denial, in this instance, as in some of the works, can point to the state of absence. At times something that is missing can become more profound in its absence than it ever was when present. With a profundity that can be haunting, and even arguably devastating. Yet at times denial of an absence can allow for a reality that is precariously stable, for to acknowledge loss would be to admit defeat or to be lost in uncertainty. In Graham Greene’s novel, The End of the Affair, the main character sees his deceased beloved in the hem of a dress, the gait of another. He becomes obsessively conscious of her presence as it is created by her absence.[ii] As with Robyn’s father, the little legs, replace – not unlike the hem of a dress, the insistence of a perception that the loss is never complete. In the work Many Shades of Pink, three matronly women meticulously dressed in pink are sitting are at table, two are politely sipping tea, the third is comatose under a chandelier, bits of the ceiling caught in her hair, drywall dust coating her arm. The characters have little autonomy, their actions or in this case inaction are part the drama that is taking place around them. They are in a state of denial that allows them to maintain their precarious sense of stability. For something has to be acknowledged for it to assert is presence. If the shock and horror of the situation were to take hold, the ladies in pink would be lost in confusion, forced to face a truth that would upset and indeed damage their perception - forcing them into acknowledgement of the situation of the other and indeed themselves. After all, are they not sitting in a room with a hole in the ceiling? The comatose woman could therefore be metaphorical, the absence of stability demarcated by the image of catastrophe that lies impervious in the uninvolved faces of the tea sippers. What is vacant is stability; therefore, its presence is upheld through the image of the comatose victim of the broken chandelier. Further, interpretation could be the loss of youth, as the aging ladies, once girls are playing at a tea party, are caught in a world of fantasy. Aging forces one to acknowledge death, and are not photographs, after all capturing moments of death?[iii] In My Heart is Breaking, a woman is lying in a satin draped bedchamber that matches her clothing, her face the same ashen shade as the material that surrounds her. Her tear stained face is marked with extreme grief. Oblivious to her lavish settings her eyes connect directly with the viewers. Her sadness so profound she is unable, perhaps unwilling to look away from the gaze of the camera. Our perception could conceivably imply that she should be happy; after all, she is lying in what could be perceived as the lap of luxury. This work, unlike the women in Many Shades of Pink, the character’s positioning speaks directly to loss. Forget for a moment, our presence and the knowledge that this is a constructed image. She alone is occupying the private space of her bed. We become voyeurs, intruders in a place that we have no right to be, loss here is confronted but it could be implied that it should be hidden due to the private nature of this space. Fascinating is Cummings use of characters, none are directly named – given individuality in this sense. However, they are easily relatable to on a personal level, their backgrounds, and individual stories, only told through the moments of slippages. Important is the viewers, and the photographer’s relationship and interpretation of these instances. We are left to imagine what is the actual nature of their worlds as the photographer has chosen to build them. [iv] This relates back to truth, perceptions are mitigated through constructions, whether though language, paintings or photographs.[v] The photographer and the viewer become and are the harbingers of truth for the people in these images. After all, whether we choose to deny the spaces in between, it does not mean they do not exist and reinforce ones sense of stability. Leanne L’Hirondelle Director/Curator