helen warner‘s photography struck me at first for the fantastical escapism that it conveys; a brilliant vehicle that transports one to a tale of wonder as if you were trapped in some translucent dream. the narrative quality not only focuses on the theatrically dramatic as one would primarily assume, but reveals in time a deeper sense of self-ness. her ego-laden subjects confront the duality of mystical-reality… trapped, confined; like demons or angels threatening to escape… other images contain a sense of near drowning claustrophobic tension that is the equivalent of a visual gasp. it is this breathless element of her work that i find totally draws one into the picture. layered with references to a struggling immortality and like stills from some ethereal epic of hidden gods, her work has a maturity that is not surprising considering that she has studied cinema, which unexpectedly turned to photography, where as the opposite is generally the case. she succeeds in getting the moments just right… the anticipation, the distance and the light, all to create a visionarium of voyeuristic delight.