From the Back-Window—291 1915

This photograph, "From the Back Window—291," by Alfred Stieglitz, is pure atmosphere, distilled from a moment in time. It is the kind of image that makes you want to curl up inside of it. The tones here are so velvety, so rich in their darkness, that the scattered light feels like tiny rebellions. There is a soft focus that embraces the whole scene, like a memory half-forgotten, but lingering in the mind. Look at the skeletal branches of the tree reaching up, ghostly against the backdrop of the buildings. It is a study in contrasts, the hard geometry of urban architecture softened by the organic, unruly lines of nature. Those lit windows, so many of them, hint at lives lived, stories unfolding, all framed within the artist’s view. The city, usually so loud, so present, is hushed, almost dreamlike. Like something by Edward Hopper maybe, but more of a whisper than a shout. It is a reminder that art can be found in the quietest, most unassuming corners of our world.