©Jo Ann Chaus/Kehrer Verlag
CLIENT: JO ANN CHAUS, Photographer
JOB: Prologue for photobook
WHEN: January 2026
I wrote a comprehensive text about the Conversations With Myself series, to be published as a prologue for the publication, Unspoken (Kehrer Verlag, 2026); the first monograph by photographer, Jo Ann Chaus.
Purchase a signed copy of the book from the artist here.
Purchase the book from the publisher here.
Text Written:
In Unspoken: Conversations With Myself, Jo Ann Chaus weaves an intricate narrative of self-reflection and exploration—a visual journey that is at once intimate, and yet laid to bare for all to see. She constructs visually rich photographs that are distinct in their deployment of props and costume, layered with a refined use of light and a highly considered framing of herself as subject. Unlike many self-portraitists—who often perform for the camera to create an illusion, an escape from reality and a visual/psychic transformation into an Other—Chaus’ imagery is very much grounded in an introspective desire to delve into the real, albeit suppressed self.
This is an identity buried through the adherence to societal constraints from the recent past, the residuals of which continue to inhabit the mind and soul of the artist. In her own words, she “inhabits a dream-like state of mental suspension”. There is nothing supine about her though. She presents herself as a subject in a position of knowledge and power, utilizing a matter-of-factness to good effect; it is what it is, afterall. This is reflected in simple titles such as Green Dress, White Sheets and Kitchen Sink.
Her careful use of pose and gaze, conjures up more than what is in the boundaries of the photograph. Here, the presence of absence is all pervasive, with the intervention of light providing the essential nod to time and temporality—past and present coalesce, a cyclic narrative that appears to meander ad infinitum. More than this, the use of chiaroscuro, brings forth echoes of film noir mystery, darkness, and of course ambiguity. The combination of her visual tropes with acting-out, are utilized to outstanding effect. Photographs such as Pink Bedroom, and Brooklyn are unreservedly weighted and heavy in mood.
Compounding the brooding photographs, are Chaus’ use of mirrors and reflections. She deftly taps into their iconic symbolization of the duality of self, identity and self-awareness. Moreover, she successfully utilizes them as a brace for asserting ownership of the gaze. One can’t look, without the knowledge that Chaus is either looking right back, or directing what the viewer is allowed to see. Likewise, where she is absent from the frame; objects and interiors, such as Ode To Elvis, perform the role of vanitas—not so much a physical mortality, but one of the spirit, mind, emotion, and presence.
The transition of the subject from internal domestic environments to exterior locations, serves to lighten the series somewhat, and points to a more light-heartedness. A barely-there amusement, and jocular undercurrent of the overall narrative also emerges, such as in photographs like Stepping Off, Sunday In The Park, Yellow Coat and Stone Wall. This might be understood as the twilight of her journey, a glimpse of the emergence of her desired self, even if it does in fact, fall away through the continuum of equivocation, as evidenced in the subject’s stern expressions of melancholy and resignation.
If there is a perceived outside observer that Chaus speaks to, it is her own generation; women born in the 1950s. There exists a retro-vintage sensibility, with little evidence of nostalgia. A key recurring motif, of course, is the well-considered use of costume—dresses especially—distinct for being the clothing that a certain woman, of a certain age would wear, or would have worn. We might locate these ensembles within the confines of socialized gender roles—mother, cleaner, muse, wife, and so on. But they’re more than this; they also speak to class and female deportment. Chaus performs dress-up, much like all little girls do, exploring and implementing the expectations of what to wear and how.
The well co-ordinated implementation of color, lush in its saturated spendor, points to one of the artist’s key photographic inspirations—that of the New Color Photography movement. Reminiscent of Kodachrome, the vibrant and deep shades and tones, function as a device for the outside observer to look past the mundane, and be cajoled into Chaus’ intimate space. There is no catharsis here, though. We turn the pages back and forth, back and forth.
Over the course of the series, autobiography diminishes to a certain extent, and the subject in the frame shifts from a representation of a seemingly unobtainable self, to an homage to all women—the universality of the burdens of wife and mother, the self-sacrifice of personal desire for the better of others, and a suggestion of the possibility of unfulfilled potential being acknowledged. The ultimate success of Chaus’ authorship lies in this narrative. Because, while these photographs are undeniably about and for her, she allows the viewer the possibility of supplanting Chaus with ourselves. We (women) merge with, and are her.