Grace Jones, New York City c. 1970s

Anthony Barboza made this gelatin silver print, *Grace Jones, New York City*, using light as a sculptor. Imagine him in the darkroom, coaxing the image out of the shadows, a kind of photographic chiaroscuro. I wonder what Barboza was thinking, framing Jones’ face so tightly, filling the picture plane with her presence. The silvery tones and the almost velvety blacks make me think about skin as landscape, as something luminous and textured. It’s not just a portrait; it's a study in contrasts, between light and dark, softness and strength. The way the light catches her cheekbones and lips—it’s like a painter using highlights to define form. And it makes you consider the relationship between photography and painting—how each medium can inform the other, pushing the boundaries of representation. Like when Rothko evoked the sublime through colour, Barboza captures something profound about Jones’s identity and the art of seeing. It shows how artists are always speaking to each other, across time, in a visual conversation.