<img fetchpriority="high" decoding="async" class="lazyload size-full-width wp-image-1583265" src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAAAAACH5BAEKAAEALAAAAAABAAEAAAICTAEAOw==" data-src="https://observer.com/wp-content/uploads/sites/2/2025/09/JOY_EXHIB_7397567.jpg?quality=80&w=970" alt="A gallery wall displays a grid of black-and-white photographs showing people in a park, including dancers, children jumping rope, and a man sitting with a boombox, with two wooden benches positioned in front." width="970" height="622" data-caption='In capturing joy, Mickalene Thomas stayed close to home. <span class=”lazyload media-credit”>Zach Hilty/BFA.com</span>’>
Those who enjoy photography have had a hard time in recent years. Because it is associated with the apps through which people of all ages communicate, it is taken for background—as that thing that distracts you from your DMs. The art boom caused the medium to be neglected at galleries (because you can’t really see the same ROI on photography that you can with painting), and now that the market is down, the only answer seems to be smaller paintings. It’s always been a little surprising that Apple, which is occasionally the most valuable company in the world, would commission a photography exhibition alongside the launch of its new iPhones. But they’ve done exhibitions for the past two releases, and the latest iteration staged in Chelsea, London and Shanghai simultaneously felt like it could have passed for your average gallery show.
Held at the old Petzel space on 18th Street, “Joy, in 3 Parts” was curated by Kathy Ryan, longtime director of photography at the New York Times Magazine. The show brought together works by Inez & Vinoodh, Mickalene Thomas and Trunk Xu, each tasked with interpreting joy. The result was three bodies of work that were handsome and strange, a credit to Ryan’s flexibility.


Inez & Vinoodh used the prompt to tell a love story about their son and his partner over five images. “They saw joy as their son’s love story,” Ryan told Observer, in part because it reminded them of their own meeting at art school. The artists were inspired by Zabriskie Point (1970) and its desert landscape, and so took the opportunity to travel to Marfa, Texas, for their shoot.
There are shades of Badlands (1973), too. In Marfa, the besotted couple is accompanied by a red fabric that becomes its own character—a veil, a flag, a cocoon. Sure, the fabric basically symbolizes the love between the two kids, but in no way does this come off as corny. “Whenever their work goes into the surreal, something magical always happens,” Ryan said. “That red cloth became almost like a character.”
The sequence flanks three vivid color images with black-and-white portraits. One key frame—Charles and Natalie running with the red fabric behind them—was transformed when the sun broke through clouds. “You plan and plan, and then you hope serendipity kicks in,” Ryan said. “Just before the sun went down, we got that terrific rainbow flare.”
Where Inez & Vinoodh looked outward, Mickalene Thomas stayed close to home. She chose Fort Greene Park, her local Brooklyn greenspace, and captured neighborhood life in seemingly candid encounters: dancers, rope jumpers, a couple in a hammock. Initially shot in color, the series turned during editing. “After the first morning, she said, ‘You know what: I’m seeing this in black and white,’” Ryan said. “It strips away unnecessary noise and lets you lean into rhythm, form and emotion.”
It’s a bold move for someone associated with her use of color. According to Ryan, Thomas said politics were behind the choice. She wanted to represent Black people outside of the context of labor. “This work counters that narrative,” Ryan said, “exploring rest as a form of resistance, power, and self-reclamation.” They feel documentary, cinematic and natural all at once.


Meanwhile, Beijing-born, Los Angeles-based Trunk Xu staged his contributions in a more obvious way and chose to confront the omnipresence of cameras in daily life. “The whole idea was fine art, not ads,” she said. But he was adamant, in a good way. To him, joy is wrapped up in the process of documenting. “The picture itself and the making of the picture is part of that dance with life.” His tableaux show skaters, beachgoers and couples photographing one another on their phones, but in subtle and unorthodox ways, with tight composition.
Ryan closed our conversation by situating the phone within photography’s long arc: from 8×10 plates to 35mm reportage, Polaroid experiments and now pocket devices with multiple 48MP sensors. My favorite of Xu’s images involved a pool shot that seemed to be captured by several people, but ironically, you can’t see any of their phones.
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