Gerda Taro is perhaps an obscure name for many who may visit this latest show at the lovely top-floor gallery space in Bermondsey-along with partner Endre Friedmann, she comprised the far better known pseudonymous entity Robert Capa, a name retained by Friedmann after Gerda was tragically killed at a far-too-young age of 26 (in 1937) while entrenched in the chaos of the Spanish Civil War. Likely, she would have gone on to a tremendously illustrious career of her own if not for this annihilating personal catastrophe. Using the same 1932 Leica camera which was Gerda’s object of choice, author and filmmaker Barry Bliss photographed 30 contemporary, London-based female artists in candid, unadorned shots taken in each of the participant’s own studios, free of frill or calculation. A remarkable variety of response to the camera exists overall: defiance, diffidence, and in the case of the younger artists, perhaps more conversant with social media mores, a playfulness or openness to the idea of extending the self as part of a brand. Each artist was asked to contribute a personal item to accompany the portrait, as a means of communicating a sensibility or style by which they would define themselves. Works from ten of the women profiled are situated in the main gallery space, encompassing an extraordinary diversity of form and content: Selma Parlour’s off-kilter (albeit, in this case, diagonally directed) geometric designs evoke a slightly distressing, queasy bemusement, the viewer hyperaware of the ways in which the image isn’t quite lining up, a wholeness denied, angles askew, definition just out of sight and elusive; at first seemingly lost on a far wall, upon closer inspection Yukako Shibata’s Pink Sisters resolves itself into a bold and forceful statement of personality, one panel evincing a plain, if steady and grounded soul, the other a slightly more colourful and flamboyant partner, a play of pink behind the frames casting a dimension and gravity, creating a solidity between work and wall not immediately perceived; Sharon Drew’s Ziggy is a maelstrom of squiggles which put me in mind of a combative and purposeful assemblage of arms and hands, laced into a strong statement of solidarity; Carol Robertson’s Sirius, with its pulsating central purple orb, seeks to consume the viewer, trapping you helplessly in its spiralling ebon vortex; Roxana Halls, casting herself as lead character in Carvery (a deliberately rendered painful distortion of hands gripping the utensils), is locked into an uneasy and ambiguous relationship to both nostalgia (the detritus of brand consumer culture, the role of gender in cooking) and self-identity, bearing the weight and constraint of each, a table overladen with metaphoric content; Emma Cousins’s Sacrificial Tripod compellingly exists between Surrealist playfulness and a deeper anger, with its tangle of legs and ruin and binds, its system of reward and failure echoed in the imagery and suggestion of trap and cheese-some savage quality informs the piece; gentle harmonies drive both Katrina Blannin’s Green Angel and Red Angel (with its marginal symmetrical shift and colour study) and Jane Bustin’s Rehearsal that references both the act of painting and the art of movement in the graceful arc of ink on her canvas; Rebecca Byrnes’s Mirror Writing brings the vibrant yellow of Van Gogh’s room in the Auberge Revoux to vivid psychological life, hung here as a diptych in one corner of the room, radiating outward, one room’s accumulated energy conversing with another’s.Best of all is Claudia Carr’s madly titled Like a Dog Turning Its Memories of Wilderness On the Kitchen Mat, a work of monumentally allusive quality, a mercurial and ever-shifting masterpiece, one instant a stormy landscape of cliff and sea, the next a crushed white rose petal, then possibly an enormous shell or an abandoned party dress-it holds the viewer in a spellbinding weave of deeply satisfying mystification. Make a Mark has now closed, but more information regarding the exhibition may be found at the venue’s website.