cover story Seasons of light Why Wesley Anderson's most luminous work is produced during the hours of deepest darkness. By Michael Boxall Sometimes the work of an artist gives an unusually clear impression of the person who created it. Go to one of Wesley Anderson's shows, and chances are that the first thing to strike you will be how meticulous and painstaking everything is. At the same time, these photo-based depictions of overlooked beauty in a crumbling Venetian wall or a windblown dandelion are deeply romantic. There's an elegiac quality about them, a sense of things in the process of passing. Anderson's recent show at the Seymour Gallery was entitled Due Stagioni, Two Seasons. "I have found the two seasons that are particularly interesting to me are spring and autumn," Anderson says. "Particularly autumn." Due Stagioni drew on two different kinds of work. Half the images on display were large-format transparencies of plant material, installed in aluminum lightboxes. The other pictures were giclee prints, photobased representations that have been scanned, manipulated on a computer, and then printed on watercolour paper. Despite the duality of the show's title, there's no clear correspondence between the two media and the two seasons. The transparencies don't depict just obviously autumnal subjects. Nor do the giclee prints speak immediately of spring, although it might perhaps be a spring breeze that stirs the gauzy material hung on a line across a deserted canal. Rather, the prints and the transparencies reflect two passions that have shaped Anderson's life and work: travel and gardens. "My background, my training, my love of gardening, travel - all that is very important, and I try to bring it all together," he says. The camera was hand-built so Anderson could shoot long exposures at magnification of five times greater than life size.