Misan Harriman: The Purpose Of Light
Hope 93 Gallery, London
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THOSE of us who deal exclusively in words see ourselves as storytellers. But photographers, too, can sometimes deliver in a single photo a deep narrative full of intensity, pain, joy and even trauma.

This is undeniably one of the many achievements of Nigerian-born British photographer, Misan Harriman, whose exhibition The Purpose of Light can be seen at the Hope 93 Gallery in central London until October 30.

Harriman works exclusively in black and white and his passion appears to be people and their causes. Most of the photographs on display feature a single individual, often looking straight at the camera. But these are not strictly posed portraits even if the subject is aware they are being photographed. They are any one of us, caught in a moment of profound meaning as we struggle to confront the social and political challenges of our time.

Over the last few years, Harriman has become our most vivid and profound chronicler of protest, covering a wide array of critical social and political issues including the Black Lives Matter movement, women’s and LGBT rights, the Grenfell tragedy, strife in Nigeria and Congo, in support of immigrants, against US President Trump and, of course, now the fight to end the genocide in Gaza.

Although Harriman has photographed his share of celebrities, including members of the royal family, they are not the focus of this exhibition. Perhaps the one exception is a beautiful and serene portrait of the heroic and courageous UN Special Rapporteur on the Occupied Palestinian Territories, Francesca Albanese, her eyes closed in a state of apparent peace, while we sense the turmoil within.

The remaining photos, however, are of everyday people fighting mainly for the hopes and dreams of those less fortunate. Many are holding protest signs that convey what they want to say, but each sign is only part of the composition. The signs complement what we learn from the expressions on the faces looking back at us, the deep meaning visible in their eyes. It is in that juxtaposition that we see the true power and emotion of Harriman’s work.

And yet, there is no commotion here, no violence, no despair. There is grief and even anger, but also a sense of resolute determination wrapped in a kind of stillness.

This is captured to perfection in the photo of a young woman, her keffiyeh draped over her head and down one shoulder, holding a sign that read: “Crushing the flowers won’t delay the spring. Exist. Resist. Return.” My daughter and I stood before it and our tears flowed. But the young woman in the photo is not crying. Here eyes are strong, knowing, full of certainty. Of sumud, the Arabic word for steadfastness. There is even a hint of a smile.

In another stands a woman, her keffiyeh worn as a turban, her face daubed, one assumes with blood. She is holding a doll, its head resting on her open hand. Her features are aquiline and solemn. She is not looking at the camera. Her expression is both distant and fully present. Everything else around her is blurred. In another medium and another time, she could be a painting from centuries ago.

We see this again in a group protest for Black Lives Matter during the Covid pandemic where, at the centre of the crowd, almost all of whom are masked, stands a tall, dramatic figure with all the pain and anguish of that struggle reflected in their expression.

In some of the more candid — and even more heartbreaking — photos, we see the embrace of a Grenfell survivor and a firefighter during one of the silent walks through the neighbourhood that continue to mark that tragedy. In another, a woman whose eyes are brimming with sadness and touch of remonstration, reminds us that “Silence Is Violence.”

After viewing this stunning and important exhibition, it may be no surprise to learn that an early influence on Harriman was the American film director Stanley Kubrick. I have always argued that you could freeze any frame in a Kubrick film and the resulting image would be a painting. Harriman’s photos are the natural descendants of those freeze frames, each one a painting.

The Purpose Of Light runs until October 30. Free Admission. For more information see: hope93.com 

Linda Pentz Gunter is a writer based in Takoma Park, Maryland.