The Darkest Hour

An Exhibition About Suicide by Harry Borden

The derelict house at the end of the canal always had an atmosphere.

My dog and I would slow our pace as we passed, drawn in by the shadowy windows that seemed to whisper of forgotten stories.

Nature had begun to reclaim it—ivy choking the walls, time pressing in.

Then, during the pandemic, everything changed.

The overgrowth was cleared, the foreboding grey walls were whitewashed, and a new roof and guttering appeared.

Patrick had arrived.

While his dog, Toon, played with mine, he introduced himself.

He’d built a trading exchange, run a brewery, moved 26 times in as many years, and was devoted to Newcastle United FC.

We started playing squash twice a week—intense, exhausting battles followed by pool at the club we joined, where we talked about life.

Patrick had lived with suicidal thoughts yet had worked as a counselor for the Samaritans.

He adored his daughters but had little contact with either of his two ex wives.

A hedonist who thrived on fitness and health, he was horrified by the prospect of growing old.

About a year after we met, he found a new house—another project. Time to move on.

At his farewell party, he tried to provoke me.

I was hurt but didn’t take offence. It was just Patrick being Patrick—always chasing the next experience, the next heightened emotion.

One time, after a particularly brutal game, we sat in the court, gasping for breath.

“Don’t expect me to give you the kiss of life when you have a heart attack,” I joked.

Without hesitation, he pulled down his shirt to reveal a tattoo on his chest.

The inky smudge read: Do Not Resuscitate.

Later that year, Patrick took his own life.

It was jarring but not entirely unexpected.

Suicide is a devastatingly permanent solution to what is often a temporary crisis.

In that moment, a person can become trapped in the belief that taking their own life is the only way to escape their pain.

This project was born out of tragedy. Several friends of my children took their own lives, a stark contrast to my own childhood, when such losses were rare.

The Darkest Hour seeks to offer a different perspective—one of survival and hope. Through imagery and personal testimonies, it shares the journeys of those who have contemplated suicide and found their way to a better place. Much of the existing conversation around suicide focuses on loss; this project highlights recovery. By sharing these stories, we can help break the stigma surrounding mental illness and suicidal crisis.

The past few years have been especially challenging.

Technology has drawn us deeper into the digital world, while social media fractures us into tribes, amplifying anxieties about the pandemic, climate change, and global instability.

The Darkest Hour takes a compassionate look at what it means to be human in these turbulent times—offering not just understanding, but hope.

Harry Borden

Harry Borden