I love the work of David Williams. He is a perceptual artist, as Thomas Hardy is a perceptual poet; he notices things. The things he notices and photographs sometimes seem arbitrary but almost never negligible. And juxtaposed with other found objects they hint at meanings and connections either too obvious or too deep to be called thoughts. T.S. Eliot wrote that the mind of the writer Henry James was “too fine to be violated by an idea.” In much the same way, Williams is not driven by a polemical programme or any desire to force people to see things in a certain way. To some extent that puts him outside the mainstream, but never in an arrogant or self-serving way. He does not demand that you admire these photographs or find them hugely and socially significant. If they demand anything it is just your attentiveness and open-mindedness – an ability to see things differently.

The title of the collection – Not Two – suggests the essential Oneness of Life. These wonderful images create fugitive and fleeting connections which stimulate not only the intelligence but also the emotions. Looking through them again, my heart starts pounding at their unforced beauty, their subtle provocations – and importantly, their moments of vision. Moments of Vision was, in fact, the title of Hardy's last collection of poems and like Hardy I think that Williams has an eye that can transform the quotidian world into a magical space. A space where, at least for a moment, everything connects.