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Juliet Furst, b. 1995
There Will Be No Miracles Here
Print of a 35mm photograph
2022
This photograph was taken during the last of a few wonderful weeks exploring Scotland. I rounded a corner on the patio of the National Gallery in Edinburgh and saw this couple lounging on the green. Only the three of us were there as the museum closed for the day. Scottish artist Nathan Coley's "There Will Be No Miracles Here" stands illuminated in the background, the words a reference to Casey Gerald's memoir by the same name.
As an artist born in the South, it is impossible for me to travel without making mental comparisons of life in the United States versus elsewhere in the world. This was one such reminder. The book There Will Be No Miracles Here is an examination of the American Dream— through the lens of a black man also raised in the south— and whether it is actually a dream or is closer to myth. The moral of the phrase, in my mind, might be that we cannot rely on external forces to create change, and that bootstrapping one's way out of hardship is a privilege not afforded to everyone with whom we share this earth. I take it to mean that the work needed to create a better "here" will be collective, a group project shared among each of us.
Juliet Furst, b. 1995
There Will Be No Miracles Here
Print of a 35mm photograph
2022
This photograph was taken during the last of a few wonderful weeks exploring Scotland. I rounded a corner on the patio of the National Gallery in Edinburgh and saw this couple lounging on the green. Only the three of us were there as the museum closed for the day. Scottish artist Nathan Coley's "There Will Be No Miracles Here" stands illuminated in the background, the words a reference to Casey Gerald's memoir by the same name.
As an artist born in the South, it is impossible for me to travel without making mental comparisons of life in the United States versus elsewhere in the world. This was one such reminder. The book There Will Be No Miracles Here is an examination of the American Dream— through the lens of a black man also raised in the south— and whether it is actually a dream or is closer to myth. The moral of the phrase, in my mind, might be that we cannot rely on external forces to create change, and that bootstrapping one's way out of hardship is a privilege not afforded to everyone with whom we share this earth. I take it to mean that the work needed to create a better "here" will be collective, a group project shared among each of us.
