clouds moving across the valley, a place falling

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Exhibition at Galerie B-312, Belgo Building, Montréal, September 10 – October 24, 2026 / exposition à Galerie B-312, Édifice Belgo, Montréal, 10 septembre-24 octobre 2026

Pour lire le texte d’introduction par Sophie Mallette, et plusieurs infos, svp regardez le site web de la galerie:/ To read the introductory text by Sophie Mallette and for more information, please see the gallery website:

https://www.galerieb312.ca/programmation/karilee-fuglem-clouds-moving-across-valley-place-falling

…

Using time lapse photography and interventions with thread and reflective materials, I’ve been thinking about how we experience time with its too-fast speeds and sudden slowings, the present moment always elusive. I come to this nearly five years after my dad passed away, wanting to loosen the knot of emotion around his last few months, feel an expansiveness of being part of an entity of all things, life as a cycle in and out of physical presence, time as flow. A glimpse of this, maybe possible, then I find myself back at my ongoing to-do list, self against other, sharp stab of loss.

Time lapse photography shows us the world in a way we can’t normally take in. Here are three series. One is a video from a sequence of photos taken at my father’s house in Kamloops in the months before my he died, then a year later. Another sequence, also presented as video, spans a year in passage outside my studio window in Montreal: images taken every five minutes become a cycle of light, moon, sun, spiraling always, top speed, hypnotic. The third series takes the form of a photo montage of images taken every five minutes of a patch of ceiling in the office of the gallery where the exhibition takes place, assembled sequentially, lines of photos, a day at a time, line by line, day by day, starting December 2025, to continue until December 2026. This composite image will grow during the exhibition and be completed after it closes. It’s an image particular to this place, this time. Long orange lines extend into the evening darkness, when people working here stayed late; navy blue rectangles appear amid lighter ones when the camera interpreted as dusk the darkening of ice storms and thunderstorms. Bright patterns reveal a secondary solar system of sun reflecting off skyscrapers around the gallery’s downtown Montreal locale.

In the large room where we enter the gallery, a grid of nearly imperceptible monofilament and glass beads marks the space and provides support for materials that will reflect light differently for every moment of the exhibition. I will continue to build into it, accordingly. Your experience will depend on where you stand in the room and when you are there, whether you see what you are walking into, or not. In the moment, maybe for a second or two.