From the bus 42 1958

Robert Frank laid out a black and white contact sheet. The images are of New York and were taken from the bus, number 42. I love the graininess and the rawness of this, the way the image isn't trying to be slick or perfect. It’s got that fly-on-the-wall, on-the-road, out-the-window feeling, with a touch of poetic accident, that feels like it's all about the here and now. It feels so human. Like looking into the artist's brain. You can almost see Frank, his eye glued to the viewfinder, grabbing these moments as they flash by. The guy’s not trying to be a hero, but rather a witness to the everyday weirdness of life. It’s like he's saying, "Hey, look at this!" Frank reminds me that art doesn’t always have to be pretty or polished; it can be raw, honest, and a little bit messy. It's about capturing a feeling, a vibe, a fleeting moment that might otherwise be lost. He is in conversation with all the photographers who came before him.