In this age of mass consumerism and unashamed greed, the ancient routes to inner peace and contentment have long since become overgrown with the tangled vines of instant gratification and acquisitive temptation. In a world of overwhelming sensory possibilities, it is often only through an exploration of the internal that we can escape from our daily lives to more seductive and exotic locations and find a sense of calm and purity. However, such escapes are inevitably fleeting.

For many, viewing art is the closest thing to meditation in modern life. The idea of such metaphysical transcendence through art is deeply unfashionable, but it is a guilty pleasure that many share. It is a gift from the past, a whispered folk memory that we choose to conceal but would never dare to relinquish. Art can seduce with whispers, quiet yet affecting, and can reveal forgotten aspects of the secret language that surrounds us. Nicholas Hughes’ photographs nurture this neglected yet resilient desire. The age of Romanticism has passed, and in today’s post-modern society, in which concept is preferred over beauty, Hughes embraces the sentiment, symbolism and poetry of nature. In a creative culture where beauty is often feared, this is a radical position to adopt. Indeed, Hughes might be called a post-modern Romantic.

Hughes’ images strip back the layers of concrete, information, noise, aspiration and desire that surround us, revealing the beauty that the natural environment provides. Hughes omits the clutter of London parks, then reassembles and re-layers his exposures, producing exquisite compositions resembling ancient Arcadian forests laden with mystery and enchantment. Nature is liberated and once again the trees claim their authority over the landscape. We are all familiar with the tree, yet the true power of this most ancient of symbols is almost alien to us. This is the forgotten god, the tree of life, the spirit of the forest, the bridge to heaven, the Buddhist bodhi tree, made invisible through neglect and overpowered by towering concrete facsimiles. Their gifts of shelter, warmth and food are forgotten, our reliance on nature buried beneath generations.

For Hughes, the health of the tree reflects the state of our whole world. The tree is a constant presence upon which the strange fruit of our reckless endeavours hang in sombre requiem. By taking the ordinary example of trees in a park and utilizing their symbolic nature, he alters our reading of them. Intertwining branches softly echo and reverberate against the dim, vaporous light source, which is sometimes visible and at other times eludes our gaze. The palette is subtle, something which enhances the importance of silence. Hughes’ technique is itself contemplative, consisting of multiple exposures with a 5 x 4 camera. It is a slow process and one which must not be rushed. However, these images are not what they seem. Images of apparently moonlit nights are in fact taken by day, and the moon is in fact the sun. Time spent contemplating the images in In Darkness Visible provokes dreamy musings. We strain to hear a rustle of leaves or the pop of a twig as it breaks. These images provide a pause for wonder, and their strength is in their dreamlike simplicity. Verse I conveys the tone of nature and Hughes’ heartfelt love of it. Indeed, in many ways these images are a visual expression of Keats’ Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness. Their atmospheric qualities embody the day with poetic charm.

Hughes’ concerns are environmental. Because of the lack of space within towns and cities, it is easy to forget the benefits that green spaces provide. They give us calm amongst the burdens of civilization, a connection to our own past and to a fading artistic language. Hughes reminds us with his photographs of the possibilities within the confines of a city, and how magical a pocket of wilderness can be