Exclusive Interview with Lydia Panas

Lydia Panas, winner of AAP Magazine #38: Women, is an American photographer, known for her powerful and introspective portraiture. With a background in visual arts and philosophy, she uses photography to explore identity, vulnerability, and human connection—often drawing from personal experience to create images that are both intimate and thought-provoking. Her work has been widely exhibited and published, and is part of numerous permanent collections.

We asked her a few questions about her life and work.

All About Photo: Tell us about your first introduction to photography.

Lydia Panas: I took a photography class after college that changed my life. A professor named David Ulrich helped me understand that I had something to say. It was the first time I had that feeling.


What started your career as a photographer?

I have always noticed everything but acted like I didn’t. Photography became a way to visually deconstruct feelings and observations. I never wanted to illustrate, but to embed feelings more subtly, more intimately. Rather than look ‘at’ my images, I want viewers to engage in a direct conversation, to have a more dynamic interconnectedness.

You work in both photography and video, often focusing on women. What first drew you to explore these mediums and subjects?

My work is about my experience as a woman. I’ve always been interested in what lies beneath the surface, the things we don’t say, the things we keep from others, the things most of us don’t even know about ourselves. It’s a hard place to go, but it’s deeper and more interesting. I’m especially interested in how women think and feel.


How did your artistic journey begin, and were there any pivotal moments or influences that shaped your visual voice?

I’ve always been interested in the idea of secrets, and what we hide. In the late 80’s when I was in graduate school, Sophie Calle was a guest in one of my classes. There were only about five of us, and in the midst of all the critical theory, I was struck by the honesty and directness of her work, her willingness to expose things I would have been afraid to expose. Another highlight I remember, was at the Sonnabend Gallery, a show of Hiroshi Sugimoto’s animal dioramas. Throughout the exhibit, I assumed the animals were real, and when I got to the last image, I realized I had been fooled by the presentation. In hindsight, my interest was in the contradiction between the presentation and the reality. I also remember being struck by Cindy Sherman’s sex pictures and later, the images of older women at MoMA. Artistically, conceptually, psychologically - they were like wow! There have been others, but these are some earlier works that have stayed with me. I am more inspired by painting than photography and one of the things these artists using photography have in common, is that their work does not feel like traditional photography. It is more like painting where you are not looking ‘at’ but ‘connecting with.’ Some painters that have inspired me - Lisa Yuskavage, Cecily Brown, Jenny Saville, John Currin, Elizabeth Peyton, Marlene Dumas.


You divide your time between Kutztown, Pennsylvania, and New York City. How do these contrasting environments affect your creative process?

It’s a great combination. It’s an easy drive back and forth and I feel lucky to have access to both. We moved out here from the city when I was a young mother and the change freed me up. I had just finished the Whitney Independent Study Program followed by graduate school. The move enabled a smooth incorporation of theory and more personal work. I see my work as psychological, conceptual, and ultimately, political. I am a strong believer that the personal is the political.

Living on a farm while also engaging with the art world in NYC is a unique combination—how does that duality inform your work?

Life and art are seamless for me, so this combination keeps everything real. The music I listen to, the performances I attend, the books, the colors, the news, the travel, the relationships. It’s all in the work. The city is the city, and I love it. But on the farm, the sounds, the smells, the growth – it’s a great pace.


Much of your work centers on women and the complexity of their inner worlds. What draws you to this ongoing focus?

It’s connected to the relationship with my mother which was difficult. Since I was a little girl, I wanted to get closer to her, to understand her and what was happening. But she had strong borders. As a result, I became interested in the connection between power and trust, and the significance of fairness and justice.

The importance of separating appearance from reality, of understanding the ‘why’ and the ‘how’ have stayed with me. I’m endlessly curious and I watch through a psychological lens. Relationships, politics, business, they’re all connected, and I always want to know more. I had to learn to trust myself, to like myself and I did it by looking closely at what I was most afraid of,


In what ways do your images aim to challenge or reframe the traditional gaze in portraiture?

The work contains multiple levels of conscious and unconscious thought. For example, in the studio portraits of women and girls looking directly into the camera from 2013 - the images are unadorned and deceptively simple, but their strength lies in the contradiction/conflict within the frame. The portraits both attract and alienate. Instead of offering conventional feminine reassurance, they evoke a level of discomfort in the viewer, and ask ‘why’?


How do you foster trust and vulnerability with your subjects, especially when working on such emotionally resonant themes?

I think it’s because of the love I have for them. I am grateful for their kindness and want to reciprocate. I ask them to give me ‘themselves.’ That’s a big ask and I want to take care of this generous gift. I am careful and honest, and people react to it.

What inspired the Hidden Forest series, and how did the idea for this body of work begin to take shape?

The “Hidden Forest” series connects the growth of the trees and foliage on our farm to my emotional growth. We started with an abandoned farmhouse on a seventy-acre farm with no trees, run down barns, burned out silos, and dilapidated chicken coops and turned it into an oasis. Originally unwelcoming, the refurbished house now sits within an abundant canopy of trees, meadows, and fields. “Hidden Forest” is about veiled potential, that can bloom, if you nurture it and allow it grow.


You describe the series as exploring “the relationship between the artist, the audience, and the gaze.” Can you elaborate on how those dynamics manifest in these images?

I try to create an active dialogue between the artist, the subject, and the viewer that transcends the confines of the frame. A kind of mutual recognition. An interaction that feels immediate, intimate, present. It’s about self-awareness. It’s about looking, seeing, and allowing oneself to feel what is happening within the connection.


Identity, family secrets, and love are central themes in Hidden Forest. How did you approach conveying these nuanced emotional states visually?

I bring my conscious and unconscious life, everything I have been through, into every photograph I make. I think the images that work best are the ones where I am able to closely connect my fears, secrets, longings, and strengths, to the subject (any subject matter). I always think of my photographs and especially the portraits, as existing somewhere between us. Like in a Venn diagram, inside the part that overlaps.

The forest is both a literal and metaphorical space in the series. What role does the setting play in the emotional tone of the work?

I think it’s the splendor of the forest and the grounds that I (and my husband and father) seeded that makes it so special. I am proud of the growth we made happen on this land and the models are pictured within this growth. It feels miraculous, magical, majestic. I think the abundance sets the tone for the work.


You’ve said that art is “a way to make sense of disorder and reveal truths.” What truths did you discover—either personal or universal—while creating Hidden Forest?

I’ve been recognizing ‘truths’ for a long time. The full phrase was “becoming an artist was an act of defiance – a way to make sense of disorder and reveal truths.” The disorder refers to my own chaotic and difficult childhood - the things I told myself in order to get by. I held many secrets for a long time because I thought it made me as a good daughter. Rather than betray others, I betrayed myself. Unfortunately, this is common and ultimately it serves no one. One important lesson I learned is that when you understand yourself well, you understand humans too,

Do you see your work as a form of emotional or psychological inquiry?

Yes. I see it as a visual psychoanalysis. I have been breaking down the various parts of my psyche over the years as a way to heal and to grow. Making art has given me purpose, focus, interest, beauty. It has been a life saver.

Your photographs are in major museum collections, and your work has appeared in top publications like The New Yorker and The New York Times Magazine. How has this recognition shaped your confidence or direction as an artist?

Confidence is a complicated issue. Some of it comes from recognizing you have the ability to learn and to push something to fruition, to accomplish something you desire. It also involves a deep sense of self that you learn early on in life, or not. Some of it, I think, comes from knowing what you want and staying the course. Recognition in these major publications certainly feels good and helps you feel seen. These layers influence confidence and direction. I see myself as a deeply confident person with a lot of insecurity. I have never relied on what other people think to move forward with what I need to do. I am clear about who I am and what I want in life. At the same time, for instance, it’s not easy for me to reach out to so called ‘gatekeepers’ which is such an important part of being an artist these days.

How do you balance the deeply personal nature of your work with its wide public exposure?

I love exploring the deeply personal stuff. I think it’s the most interesting way to make art. I don’t mind exhibiting it. I have the most difficulty with explaining it. And while it’s not always necessarily important to expose the details, my work is subtle and works on an unconscious level that I think often gets misunderstood. While the work presents as strength, the layers are more subtle. It takes a lot of sensitivity to understand the unconscious. It’s not for everyone.

You’ve published three monographs over the past decade. Do you envision Hidden Forest becoming your next book?

I work a lot and have so much work I want to put together in some form, I am not sure which needs to come next. There is always so much to do and so little time, and mostly, I just like to make work.

Are there new subjects or themes you’re eager to explore in future works?

My current project is titled “(she never said) Let Them Eat Cake” which I am super excited about. The project uses still life as a metaphor to explore the idea of danger hidden in beauty – beauty that appears inviting but is deceptive; surface appearance that seems safe but is not. It builds on ideas from my previous projects about dismantling facades to reveal what lies beneath.


Although I am mostly known for my portraits, past projects have also included still life, or some form of constructed imagery – flowers, chocolates, pinecones, even laundry lint.

With this series, I turned to cakes and donuts – confections that entice us with their glossy appeal but offer no real nourishment. The confections serve as metaphor. I deconstruct them; stacking, slicing, smashing, floating, and dripping, so they become mysterious, allusive, almost theatrical. Viewed together at an imposing scale, they invite both desire and reluctance. As in the earlier work, I want the viewer to be tempted by the beauty but simultaneously hold them at a distance. I see the works as crafted layers of sweetness concealing volatility. In that sense, the act of photographing them – especially at large scale – is analytic: a slow undoing of their polished surface, a way of making the unconscious visible.

How do you see your practice evolving in terms of medium—will video play a larger role going forward?

I would like to incorporate more video. Everything I have done so far with video has been intuitive, and I feel somewhat limited technically. I am looking forward to learning more about it.

What advice would you give to emerging photographers navigating deeply personal subject matter in their work?

Follow your instincts. I have a strong academic background, but ultimately, it’s what I know about life that has been my biggest influence. Look, learn, and allow yourself to be vulnerable and grow. Enjoy it. Being an artist is a gift – it’s an opportunity to follow your heart, your mind, and your curiosity every day. Don’t let anybody tell you how to do it.