A little girl standing in front of gloomed woods, her face etched away by light; an otherwise unremarkable field haunted by a delicate brume; the enchanting chaos of seedpods charmed still while falling; a child blurred limbless before a glowing, eye-white screen—the B&W photographs in Emil Handke’s series From Silence evoke an uneasy mystery, a shifting amalgam of innocence and menace. What they are, really, is uncanny, that itchy mix of the familiar and the utterly foreign.













