New York 1987

Rosalind Solomon's photograph "New York" captures a moment, a slice of life, with a stark, documentary feel. I imagine Solomon, with her camera, stepping into this room, maybe feeling like an intruder. The composition is fascinating – the man framed by the doorway to the balcony, the city looming behind him. It's like he's caught between two worlds, the intimate space of his apartment and the impersonal vastness of the city. And those pillows on the couch! "You can’t be too rich or too thin." There's a biting humor there, a commentary on the values of this world. I wonder if Solomon chose this space specifically for its layered narrative, or if it was a chance encounter, a fleeting moment captured in time. Solomon's work always feels so direct, so unflinching. She's not trying to pretty things up or create a fiction. It's about seeing, really seeing, the world as it is, with all its beauty and ugliness. And maybe that's what all artists are trying to do, in their own way – to make us see, to make us feel, to make us think.