From My Window at An American Place, Southwest 1932

Alfred Stieglitz made this gelatin silver print, called "From My Window at An American Place, Southwest," at an unknown date. It’s a view from a window onto other buildings in the city. I’m picturing Stieglitz at his window, his face close to the glass. It’s gray and overcast, the scene almost monotone, full of layered dark tones and muted highlights. In the distance, a skeletal skyscraper under construction looms, a symbol of progress. The buildings closer to the viewer are solid, dark, lived-in. The eye strains to find a glimmer of light, a sign of life amid the architectural masses. There’s a strange comfort in this image. I feel that he’s showing us the beauty of the ordinary, like Giorgio Morandi’s paintings of bottles. Stieglitz is looking at what’s always there but often overlooked. He's saying, "Hey, look at this. Isn’t it something?" And it is.