Guggenheim 123--New York City 1955

Robert Frank made this gelatin silver print, titled Guggenheim 123--New York City, sometime during his lifetime. It's a strip of negatives, a kind of outtake or visual note from his practice. You know, like when painters pin up sketches around the studio. There’s a transparency to the film itself that allows light to transmit and expose the image. It is a direct, unfiltered view into the artist's process. The dark lines separating each frame create a rhythmic grid. It's like a series of windows looking out at the world, or maybe mirrors reflecting Frank’s own observations. Look at the images of the crowds of people. It's a sea of faces, each one a story. But they're also blurred, indistinct. It makes me think about what it means to see, to really see, and how much we miss in our quick glances. It reminds me of someone like Gerhard Richter, in the way he makes paintings out of blurry photographs, turning a moment into something both specific and elusive. Ultimately, this is a conversation between the photographer and the world.