Concrete Playground

If a photograph has ever been able to transcend the visual, been able to be heard, then Bill Henson’s current exhibition contains some serious contenders. In his characteristic sombre style, Henson’s images encompass the portrait and the landscape, combining fragile human studies (for which he has become renowned), epic vistas and enigmatic ruins.

Shot in large-scale and installed without framing, ensuring an intimate view, Henson’s photographs totally transform the gallery and make a powerful statement, working two angles at once. A lone, rocky island is at once familiar and otherworldly, broken stories dripping from the recognisable ruins, while the portraits — in particular the one showing a girl in profile, her head held by another’s hands, affecting the movement of a baptism — are delicate yet potent. The image that really sings is the one of the waterfall; you can hear the water as it falls, almost feel the spray, and, in the masterly style that has made Henson one of Australia’s premier photographers, he captures the power of the gushing water without detracting from the diaphanous quality of the veil of water.