Underfoot I Possibly 1999 - 2001

Irving Penn made this gelatin silver print, called Underfoot I, sometime in the twentieth century. The close-up shot, the stark black and white, it’s a study in contrasts. It feels almost sculptural, like something you could reach out and touch, turn it over in your hands. Penn coaxes so much nuance out of monochrome. The play of light and shadow, the gritty textures, they’re all heightened. You can almost feel the grittiness of the ground. It's like a miniature world, transformed into something monumental. The neutral tones create a sense of timelessness, but also a sense of unease. It makes you consider how we assign value, how we overlook the beauty in the mundane. It reminds me of some of Edward Weston’s peppers, but with a darker edge. Both artists find the extraordinary in the ordinary, but Penn's feels less like an embrace and more like an examination. And isn't that what art is all about, really? Looking closer, questioning, finding new ways to see.