Parade c. 1945

Robert Frank's "Parade" is a small black and white photograph, a fleeting moment captured, maybe without permission, certainly without fanfare. What gets me about this image is its texture, that grainy film stock gives the whole scene a weight and immediacy. Look at the sea of faces, each one a little blurry, a little lost in the crowd. The hats, the flags, the building in the background - it's a jumble, almost chaotic. But within that chaos, there's a strange kind of order, like the world itself. It feels unplanned and kind of raw, like a snapshot of real life. The dark tones and the way the light catches on the edges of things, it's all so immediate. The flags create almost abstract shapes cutting through the image, disrupting the depth. I'm reminded of Helen Levitt, another photographer who just walked around and snapped what she saw. There's something generous in that approach. It's like they're saying, "Here's what I saw, make of it what you will." It’s an invitation to look closer, to find your own meaning.