There’s something very American about Barry Cawston’s photographs. It’s odd, really, since none were taken in the US; instead they feature scenes from Italy, Cuba, Mexico, Brazil – even Bristol. Yet, be it in the contrasting colours of a Havana pool, the perfect clapboards of an Avonmouth cottage, or the crooked hat of a Tibetan cowboy, Cawston’s images recall both the New World melancholy of Edward Hopper and the dazzling modernity of David Hockney’s Berkeley days.