Gut Feelings: Jasleen Kaur and Capturing the Everyday

Photographer and writer Miriam Morris reflects on the work of Jasleen Kaur and how photography can preserve the insignificant for a time of significance

Article by Miriam Morris | 20 Aug 2026
  • (Untitled) resin work (2), (2023) by Jasleen Kaur

I went to Modern One to sit with the Surrealists, but with the happenstance that can occur with accessibility to free art, I met a new friend.

Jasleen Kaur’s (Untitled), resin work (2), a large photograph encased in orange resin (a nod to Irn-Bru and poetically, of viewing the past with rose tinted glasses). Her family are gathered around a car, the artist directly staring at the camera whilst her family members are obscured by pieces of roti.

When my brother died, my family and I instinctively began sharing photographs. Verifying the very trace of him. Just like Kaur’s, some captured the everyday – life around a car or on a sofa. Albums of normality, photography can preserve the insignificant for a time when it needs to be significant.

When our family next gathered I likened it to the tea set that got rolled out at Christmas. A saucer was missing and although still functional, we would never have a full set around the table again

I went back to look at Kaur’s work for the second time. Side B.


(Untitled) resin work (2), (2023) by Jasleen Kaur. Courtesy National Galleries of Scotland. Purchased with the Olive Pollok-Morris Bequest 2024.

In the back seat, watching my dad’s arm resting on the rolled down window of our 90s Vauxhall, a comforting reassurance of knowing what song would follow on the cassette before it had even begun. On long journeys he would share ghost stories and I would imbibe them.

Earlier this year, I took photographs of him in his little den at the top of the house, surrounded by everyday collectables accrued across the years. Screwdrivers and cans of WD40, always tinkering, always mending. Some things are always in repair, some things cannot be fixed. He can no longer recall the stories that to me have become invariable tales.

Looking at (Untitled), resin work (2), I suddenly realised I can never go home again. The bricks are there but there is no chorus of shared laughter, the sing-song of the everyday has been silenced and I am not quite sure what we will do without the teapot.


Jasleen Kaur's (Untitled), resin work (2) is on display at the National Galleries Scotland: Modern One