Bill Henson’s photographs of landscapes at dusk, of the industrial no-man’s land at the outskirts of our cities, of androgynous girls and boys adrift in the nocturnal turmoil of adolescence are painterly tableaux that continue the traditions of romantic literature and painting. The rich chiaroscuro, the oscillating light, and the masterful composition of his photographs map enigmatic states that escape rationalism’s iron grip, providing a much-needed antidote to a culture that increasingly looses itself in a numbing vortex of blinking screens and glittering surfaces.