The people in Evan James Benally Atwood’s photographs appear both defiant and vulnerable. Looking at these images feels like being told an intimate truth. Vivid use of color and soft backgrounds, or the way light slants through the composition brings the subjects into focus. But it is the way their bodies are positioned that tells the story. In the first image in this portfolio, Kerry Yammaucci, a person is bathed in an orange glow. Behind her hangs an overcast, blue-tinged sky and hints of a vaguely urban setting. Her shoulders are back, mouth slightly parted. A fur bandeau covers her breasts. Her expression suggests mischief, sex, a hint of judgement. She makes no apologies for herself or her beauty. 

The commonality of each of these portraits is the lack of self-consciousness. Each person featured stares directly at the camera, yet the camera does not feel present. Even though the subjects are posed, they are not frozen nor separate from their surroundings. You have the sense that you are seeing them as they want you to, as opposed to how a photographer has decided they should be seen. This is the gift of Atwood’s work: it reveals instead of exploits. It shows what is possible when people are able to be who they are.