The latest show by American cult photographer Annie Leibovitz reminds one of the true nature of photography and the alluring aura of some remarkable places and objects.

During a family trip to Niagara Falls, Leibovitz was captivated by the impression this landmark made on her children, and set out to write what she called a ‘crazy list’ of meaningful and awe-inspiring places and things she’d like to go and see. For several months she travelled across America (albeit briefly visiting the UK), recording her experience through images and writings. Pilgrimage presents the result of this remarkable journey, an exhibition of photographs and a homonymous book of her anecdotes and thoughts.

The gallery space at Hamiltons echoes the feeling of sacredness of her endeavour and gives the things and places she photographed the status of true relic. Like ageing photographs, the objects in Leibovitz’s list are loaded with a sense of longing and melancholia. Walking through the gallery space one can’t help but think about the ghosts of their former owners and the aura bestowed on their possessions and frequented places. In this sense, Leibovitz is still doing what she is most known for; Pilgrimage is very much a book of portraits. Through her images and anecdotes one can summon many legendary names, from Emliy Dickinson and Charles Darwin, to Elvis Presley and Sigmund Freud.

One notable thing about this show is that Leibovitz’s images are stripped from any gimmickry or sophisticated production. Although they are not as impeccably sharp and meticulously produced  – one has come to expect this from her previous shows – these images strike me as intimate, and most importantly, heartfelt. This is why one could think Pilgrimage is if not her most personal work, one of her most.

It is a relief to find such a renowned photographer producing work with the simplest of means. Many of the images in this show are not more than snapshots made with a digital SLR. It is interesting to find this kind of imagery in mainstream galleries and exhibition spaces, validating a medium that is commonly frowned upon or admitted with disdain.  This reminds me of the true nature of photography as preserved memory, regardless of how it comes into being. Leibovitz allows herself to focus on narrative rather than image, gaining a newfound freedom.

She is discovering now, as a modern-age pilgrim, what her predecessors so zealously defended; the belief that things and places have a spirit, an ineffable essence impervious to time. In my mind, her journey is as much of a spiritual quest as a declaration of love.