In Andrea Modica’s black-and-white photographs, what might seem straightforward at first glance—a girl in her bedroom, a child with a hula hoop, a nude woman on a bench—quickly provoke lingering questions: Who are these people? What are they doing? Where are they? The images suggest small, potently enigmatic narratives, and their place-name titles provide almost no clue to their meaning. Unlike photographers who wield 35 mm cameras to sweep in and capture moments as they find them, Modica uses a bulky 8 x 10 tripod camera that requires considerable time to set up. This means that she has to