Brett Weston showing at the Currier Museum of Art in Manchester. Brett Weston the son of photographer Edward Weston had a career wide and varied spanning a course of 80 years.

While Weston’s earlier works of abstraction and landscape are beautiful and compelling I find that his later works of both organic material and the nudes under water to be more interesting. Perhaps it is because the landscape portraiture is/has been done and smacks more of his father’s work or Ansel Adams. The subject matter of desiccated leaves and plants is evocative of death and perhaps the beauty that one can find in life passed. And, the form and composition of these plants are beautiful, an organic matter that once was vibrant in one way I find vibrant in another way—not easily recognized from its original matter but compelling in its’ new form.

The under water nudes present a fantastic composition of human form, light and perspective. I love how the light on top of the water draws the eye of the viewer towards the figure that is then portrayed with the same light reflecting through the water making abstract shapes and designs on the figure. The designs are simultaneously beautiful and suggestive of the inner workings of the body. The light from above casts striations that remind one of ribs, veins, skin texture and muscle composition.

One could look at a body of an artists work and most likely find positive things about both the newness and energy of the beginning works as well as the skill, wisdom and complexity that comes with seasoned experience. It is Weston’s later works that I most admire as I feel that he conveys both his skill and knowledge in articulating the photograph as well as his innovative (to my limited knowledge) approach to his subject.

“…I prowled the streets all day, feeling very stung-up and ready to pounce, determined to trap-life –to pressure life in the act of living. Above all, I craved to seize the whole essence, in the confines of the one single photograph, of some situation that was in the process of unrolling itself before my eyes.” –Henri Cartier V. Bresson