Rozella Marie Blackwell 1985

Joan Cassis made this gelatin silver print of Rozella Marie Blackwell sometime before 1996. There’s something so direct in the way this portrait approaches its subject and how the artist uses light and shadow. It’s like a conversation about presence and vulnerability. The monochrome palette helps distill the image down to its essential forms, focusing on the subject's posture, the drape of the dress, and the texture of the backdrop. The light catches the polka dots in Rozella’s dress, and the surface of the mounted gray squares behind her, creating subtle patterns, drawing you in. Her hands rest gently on the horizontal surface, a tender gesture in what feels like a staged and slightly awkward scenario. It’s honest and raw, and kind of funny. Cassis's work reminds me a little of Diane Arbus, in its unflinching gaze, though Cassis seems to have a more generous vision. It’s a reminder that every artwork is a record of how we see, interpret, and engage with the world around us.