New York 1987

Editor: So, here we have Rosalind Solomon’s “New York,” a gelatin-silver print from 1987. It’s a striking portrait. I’m immediately drawn to the subject’s direct gaze and the somewhat unsettling intimacy of the setting. What jumps out at you in this piece? Curator: Unsettling, yes, that's a good word. It’s funny, isn’t it, how a seemingly straightforward portrait can feel so loaded? Solomon has a way of pulling back the curtain, doesn't she? This image, for me, speaks of vulnerability but also immense strength. It’s a portrait about ‘being’ – raw and unfiltered. The environment around her...a bedroom... hints at a story, doesn't it? Do you feel you know what story the room tells? Editor: The unmade bed and simple room suggest a life lived without pretense, I guess. There's nothing overtly glamorous or staged about the photo. But I'm still unsure how that tells a story in and of itself, versus being details that are true for many photos in general. Curator: Precisely! It’s the ‘everydayness’ that gives it power, that honesty. Solomon wasn't interested in hiding things. Her brilliance lies in capturing these subtle cues. It invites the viewer to participate in an intimate dialogue with her subject, to imagine the unseen parts of her life. And consider this was 1987 in New York; she was at the height of her powers! You feel all that time compressed in this instant she has shared with us? Editor: That’s a new way to think about it; the image as an invitation to a private story. It makes it more human, more relatable, less about perfect photography and more about lived experiences. Thanks! Curator: Absolutely! It's about accepting the imperfections and appreciating the truth within. It reminds me a little bit of some of Diane Arbus' work, do you see that link?