Hunter, shooter and ace snapper

Hunter S Thompson shot himself two years ago, aged 67. Presumably the man who invented gonzo journalism figured he'd told us enough.

Thompson's best works - Fear And Loathing In Las Vegas and The Great Shark Hunt - are still deeply loved for their freewheeling yet perceptive form of investigative journalism.

Before he died, the author was working on a kind of companion piece: a book of the memorabilia he had collected compulsively for four decades, through road trips, presidential campaigns and other wild rides along the precipice.

The book is now out in limited edition, and these photographs, which were a central part of that hoarding process, are on display as a stand-alone exhibition.

That Thompson turned out to be an excellent photographer is as unsurprising as his choice of subject matter.

The man as famed for his testerone and drug-fuelled lifestyle as for his actual writing rarely did anything he didn't want to do, and probably never anything he was likely to do badly, which is how he managed to throw himself into writing, travelling, boozing and even campaigning (for the wrongly imprisoned and, memorably but unsuccessfully, for sheriff).

Besides, Thompson always liked shooting things. Just check out the photo here of Hunter and friend fishing with guns. The method is simple - point gun at water and shoot. Although you wonder whether they ever managed to catch anything.

His camera shots were more successful. There are terrific colour-saturated pictures of Sixties Hell's Angels in this exhibition, acting as naturally as bearded motorcycle men only do in the absence of outsiders: two are even kissing.

There's delectable Sandy Conklin, who became Thompson's first wife, and a gruesome shot of a splayed naked woman in a Nixon mask (Thompson, never a man to keep the world in ignorance of his opinions, loathed the architect of Watergate: Nixon and what he represented was the inspiration, if that is the word, for the phrase Fear And Loathing).

Most intriguing, though, are the monochrome self-portraits: testament to a style that was less about observing the world than about placing oneself at the centre of it and observing others' reactions to that self.