I've just discovered the work of Australian Photographer Bill Henson. I was directed to his Paris Opera series, but have begun perusing his other works, which are positively stunning. His use of light is haunting in its expression of only the most necessary details, and in a vague sense reminds me of my personal favorite Gregory Crewdson. The difference here, though, is that Henson is incredibly tangible, visceral. Where Crewdson sculpts and toils and slaves, Henson seems to catch human beings and scenery at their most natural, their most raw. There is something unrestrained about it. His engagement in light and dark, dirty and clean, and any other binary spectres one might be wont to exhume, is spectacular.