The visual territory we enter in Ola Rindal’s "Night, Light" brings to mind retrieved data from a black box. Washed out snapshots of potentially unsettling situations at night, captured with the scrupulous indifference of a machine. Rindal’s images appear to be saved from the archival night of an abandoned camera. It’s almost like found footage of undefined, dark corners of reality.
Random and controlled in character, the images are riddled with an acute sense of danger. And they all display a recurrent pattern: the immediacy and surprise of encountering the unknown. They seem to be, quite literally, shots in the dark. No wonder the impression we get from the "Night, Light" series is of someone groping in the dark, guided by the occasional flash of the camera. These are images triggered by someone who’s anxiously anticipating what the camera will reveal.