In Cinga Samson’s haunting exhibition at White Cube, figures emerge from shadows in scenes that defy comprehension. His use of a limited palette, particularly the stark whites and blues, creates an atmosphere of spiritual alertness, a state akin to insomnia that carries no negativity. These aren’t simply sad or eerie paintings; they are invitations to explore dimensions unseen by Western eyes.

The figures in his work appear in limbo states, between life and death, their white pupils a clear indicator of otherworldliness. In 'Ukuwelwa komda', a figure rises from both a chair and a skeleton, emerging into a world where water drains through a concrete passage, while grass grows on the top floor. The paintings are choreographed yet unsettling, a departure from the staged realism of Gregory Crewdson's photographs.

This otherness is not just aesthetic; it feels like a resistance to colonialism and Western-centric viewpoints. Samson’s figures see with clarity, understanding that evades outsiders. They neither see us nor acknowledge our presence, suggesting an alternate reality where we are mere intruders. 'Intsingiselo II' exemplifies this with its pack of dogs, their white-pupilled leader turning a blind eye to the humans.

Samson’s work is more than art; it’s a challenge to our perceptions and a reminder that there may be worlds beyond what we can comprehend. It invites us to look closer, but also warns us that some things are best left unseen.