London c. early 1950s

Bill Brandt made this photograph in London, and what strikes me is its quiet, intimate feel. He uses a monochrome palette, letting the shadows and light do all the talking, like whispered secrets. The texture in this photograph is remarkable. The skin is almost luminous, a soft contrast to the stark lines of the wall. The way Brandt captures light, it's as if he's sculpting with it, revealing and concealing at the same time. Look at the curve of her arm, the delicate gradient from light to shadow – it’s all about the physicality, the immediate, tangible quality of the body. The composition is so interesting: she seems to be both there and not there, as if she were dissolving into light. It reminds me a little of the work of Lucien Freud, in how he uses light to reveal the weight of the human figure. But with Brandt, there's a tenderness, an ambiguity that leaves room for multiple interpretations. It’s a testament to how art can embrace the fleeting, the uncertain, and still leave us with something profound.