Tim Birch

Stroll along the Promenade Gallery here, and two things are clear. The celebratory sense of fun captured in chemical memory. And the mainstay of 'working class' subjects. Both sit comfortably, given the venue, with Lowry's own sympathies.

Robertson's work glances over seven decades, encompassing photojournalism and curiosities like 'Mannequins' that may be elevated to the revered but dubious heights of 'art'. 'Sheep Shearing in Wales' reveals Robertson as a successful 'jobbing photographer' for the magazines of her day, while 'Childbirth' discloses an eye for the unusual.

Pointedly, Robertson herself flags up the 'intimacy' in her work - down to 'mutual trust.' Fair to a point, but many could read the images more as voyeurism: the two chaps asleep in the Tate Gallery is a prime example. As is the 'lady' who comes face to face with Robertson's roving camera and who incredulously stares down the insolent snapper - her stern face seeming to conjure that reading.

Still, conflict is tempered as these images were made 'on the run' in public places. By her own admission, Robertson was an opportunist: c.f. the skank of 'Battersea', the fun of 'Butlin's Holiday Camp' or the idyll of 'Wimbledon Common'.

If some are mawkish, none are outlandish ' say, akin to 19th century ponces paying a few coins to peer, literally, into Bedlam. Beyond scrutiny is Robertson's own summary: 'a labour of love' - manifest, brilliantly, in the 'Bermondsey and Clapham Women's Pub Outings' series.

All the subjects seem to be a dead-ringer for Arthur Mullard - and all of them are having a palpable blast. Joyous.

Grace Robertson: A Sympathetic Eye is at The Lowry, until Sunday, April 6.

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