Nat Faulkner is fascinated by what goes unseen, or the hidden trails he leaves behind when developing in his studio-come-darkroom. Resourceful with his output, he displays the photographs by way of heat and glue, slowly fusing each strip of paper like jigsaw pieces to sheets of plywood. In the glass ampoules, which act like apertures for understanding his mechanical analogue processes, the contents relate to certain state changes, including recycled fixative he’s used to seal the surrounding photographs, or fluids that induce inebriation, like champagne. Absorbed by the inherent ‘wet processes’ of photography, the ampoules utilise silver nitrate and its innate ability to reproduce the world, both photographically on paper and film, and through a chemical reaction used traditionally to make mirrors from glass tubes. These works distill time into hermetically sealed environments, akin to the makeshift dark-room he attempts to omit light from. But, like nature, sun always finds its way in, leaving blemishes that are out of his control.