Edward and Jo Hopper, who married in 1924, spent part of the following year in Santa Fe, New Mexico. Without a car, and confined mostly to town, Edward found his subject matter where he could. Conveniently, their spare, impersonal hotel room provided him with the detached atmosphere he sought in all his work. In this painting, Edward invisibly observed Jo pinched between chair and dresser, a book propped on her folded knees, absorbed in the text. Her reflection reveals nothing but a mass of black hair. She’s bookish but unreadable. The view places us on the intimate perch of the room’s bed, giving the work a voyeuristic feeling. The slashing, tilted diagonal of the footboard in the foreground walls Jo off, distancing her from both her husband and us. She’s trapped but occupied, a world unto herself, passing the time as best she can.