Newburgh, New York IX 1955

Editor: Here we have Robert Frank's "Newburgh, New York IX" from 1955, a gelatin silver print showing a contact sheet. I'm struck by the rough, almost diaristic quality. What do you see in this work? Curator: I see a visual excavation. Frank, known for his unflinching look at American society, particularly its undercurrents of inequality, offers us not a polished image, but a raw sequence. How do you think this presentation influences our understanding of the photograph selected in the contact sheet? Editor: It definitely feels more honest, like we’re seeing behind the scenes. It pushes back against the idea of the perfect image. It's almost like the photographer is questioning which single frame is most important. Curator: Exactly. And who gets to decide? The sequencing, the darks and lights within each frame... they whisper stories of labor, class, and societal divisions that weren’t always visible in mainstream depictions of 1950s America. We need to ask: Whose narratives were being silenced or left on the cutting room floor? Which images of Newburgh, New York, were considered commercially palatable or socially acceptable? Editor: That's a really important point. Seeing the rejected frames highlights what someone, probably the artist, deemed as "unworthy" versus those deemed "worthy", raising questions on what influences these decisions. Curator: And the role of photography itself as a tool, both for documentation and social commentary. This sheet is a historical document reflecting what Frank thought needed highlighting at the time, which allows us to reconsider history now. Editor: I didn't realize the power of discarded images. It shows me how every decision shapes the narrative. Curator: Indeed. Art, even in its “rejected” forms, is a constant conversation with our past and our present.