Braylon 

Curator: I'm immediately struck by the gaze in this portrait. There's such directness, almost an invitation... but also a deep well of something unspoken. Editor: Precisely, it's called “Braylon,” created by Alfred Conteh. This artwork, composed of charcoal and pastel, uses dry media to capture not just likeness, but also character. The work engages with portraiture's long and complicated history and representation of individuals, especially within communities of color. Curator: You can certainly see that layered into the image; portraiture has often served as a tool of visibility, or invisibility, and Conteh seems aware of that weight. I'm curious about how you read the use of such raw, almost unfinished strokes? To me, they give an interesting impression. Editor: It evokes vulnerability, perhaps. Or a kind of beautiful rawness that traditional, polished portraiture often tries to hide. The lines and shading, aren’t smooth like those of classic art pieces, it’s edgier. There's this push and pull, this interplay of shadow and light on his face—that really hits me hard. Curator: And consider the setting too. This isn't just a person; this is a person situated within a broader conversation about identity. And it's the rawness of his depiction, not idealizing at all. But showing...truth. Editor: Maybe that's why it speaks to me, as well. No forced smiles, no grand backgrounds. Just a kid and what feels like an unedited view into who he is. Curator: Absolutely, that makes this piece more about presence than perfection. "Braylon" enters the arena, challenging the traditional modes through which we often see individuals memorialized in portraiture. It asks viewers to consider a portrait of someone we are willing to meet at face value. Editor: Leaving space, rather, for him to simply *be*, and be witnessed as himself. Makes you want to listen, right? Curator: It certainly does. For me, it leaves an impression, to find truth, or glimpses of it, through artistic representations of ourselves. Editor: For me it’s as simple as the value of those quiet moments, you know? Being still, truly seen—maybe we all crave that.