Bill Brandt’s 1955 'Portrait of a Young Girl, Eaton Place’ depicts a girl lying on the floor of a domestic room. We don’t know why she is there – she may have tripped and fallen, or just awoken from a dream. Her face is in extreme profile in the foreground, while the room stretches sharply behind her. This image, and the young girl within it, became the starting point for Marietta Mavrokordatou’s exhibition, Trip. The title carries a dual meaning, referring both to a physical fall and an altered state of consciousness.

The protagonist appears once, while elsewhere the interiors become reflections of her state of mind. She experiences the world in fragments, unable to see her surroundings as a complete whole. The physical spaces take on a psychological dimension – giving form to an internal experience that can’t otherwise be captured.

Constructed entirely by hand in the darkroom, the photographs are fractured by kaleidoscopic forms that divide and repeat across the surface, turning back on themselves and multiplying without ever arriving at a complete or stable image. The kaleidoscope is a recurring device in Marietta’s work, its ever-shifting configurations mimic the instability and subjectivity of vision. In Trip, this altered view gives form to the protagonist’s own interiority, caught in a spiral of introspection.

On the walls, two sculptures beam light through a narrow aperture. Recalling the optical components of a camera – an enclosed chamber, aperture and glass – the sculptures invert its basic operation. Acting as empty vessels, they project no image, only themselves. Like the photographs, they give form to an interior state.