As an artist, Penrose fell into the competent, if not exactly inspiring, school of painting, his eye for the talent of others ? Dali, Man Ray, Max Ernst, Picasso ? superseding his own efforts. But that same eye peering down the lens of a camera captured beautifully the louche decadence of the between-the-wars intelligentsia: that sun-sodden, booze-fuelled, sexual free-for-all.