New York 1987

Editor: We’re looking at Rosalind Solomon's "New York," a gelatin-silver print from 1987. There’s such a palpable sense of quiet grief radiating from the man in the portrait. What layers are you seeing here? Curator: This image powerfully encapsulates the AIDS crisis that was ravaging New York in the late 80s. Look at the tenderness with which the man holds the photograph. The gaze, isn’t it striking? Consider how the intimate portrait within a portrait becomes a poignant symbol of loss and remembrance within a community facing devastating illness and social stigma. Solomon’s lens captures not just individual sorrow, but also collective mourning. Editor: So, it’s like he’s holding onto a memory, something precious. I'm curious how Solomon's choice of black and white photography impacts how we understand it. Curator: The absence of color lends the photograph a timeless quality and amplifies the emotional weight. The stark contrast heightens the texture of grief on the man’s face, transforming him into an almost allegorical figure representing a generation scarred by prejudice and disease. It's impossible to ignore how this work speaks to questions of identity, visibility, and the politicization of the body during that era, don't you think? Editor: Absolutely. I hadn't fully grasped the depth of the socio-political context interwoven within the portrait itself. Curator: Consider also the context of Solomon’s broader work. She unflinchingly confronted themes of trauma, mortality, and social injustice, which were often avoided by mainstream art. Editor: I appreciate you placing this single photograph within her larger body of work. It’s definitely given me a fuller picture of the context. Curator: And hopefully given you a fuller appreciation of art’s power to document and respond to socio-political events. Editor: Indeed. It is a striking image, a stark reminder, and a thoughtful piece of art.