THE FIRST thing to greet you in Johny Pitts’s outstanding exhibition at Stills Gallery in Edinburgh are photo-albums on a home-made table, filled with domestic snapshots “most of which were taken casually,” he says.

These flip-books are a compilation of ordinary off-hand moments and ressemble millions of others as private documents of domestic life. They are almost nostalgic ... who keeps prints nowadays, when you can store images on your phone?

Pitts asks us to see them as equivalent to what is on the gallery walls, as though the step from amateur to artist were an easy one to make, but the difference between snaps and the exhibition prints is startling. Pitts is a master of scale and the enlargements step beyond the domestic into a realm of universal symbolic resonance.