Eye 1941 - 1945

Here's a black and white photograph by Robert Frank, simply titled, "Eye." It's so close up, so intimate, that it feels like an intrusion, or maybe a dare. I imagine Frank, camera in hand, nose-to-nose with his subject. What were they thinking in that moment of exchange? Was it confrontational, playful, tender? The tight crop leaves so much unsaid. And the eye itself. It's more than just an anatomical feature, isn't it? It's a portal, a mirror reflecting back at us, asking, "What do you see?" The starkness of the black and white strips away any pretense, laying bare the vulnerability of looking and being looked at. The slight imperfections around the eye only enhance the sense of raw, unfiltered reality. It makes me think about the way we connect, or fail to connect, in our image-saturated world. What does it mean to truly see someone? And what does it mean to be seen? Food for thought, right?