Subway portraits--Early New York City no number c. early 1950s

Editor: So, here we have Robert Frank’s "Subway portraits--Early New York City no number," a gelatin-silver print from the early 1950s. What strikes me is the anonymity and perhaps even a sense of alienation, despite being portraits in a public space. How do you interpret this work? Curator: I see it as a powerful commentary on the societal divisions present in post-war New York. Frank, as an outsider himself, captured these fleeting moments on the subway, highlighting the racial and class disparities within a seemingly unified urban landscape. Notice the separation between subjects, even when physically close, revealing underlying social tensions. What does the use of film strip and numbering suggest to you? Editor: That is an interesting observation on social tensions. Well, maybe he’s emphasizing the mechanical, almost industrial, nature of modern life. A sense of being processed rather than individually recognized. Curator: Exactly! And consider the blank frames—perhaps symbolizing the erased or unseen stories within these communities, a conscious act of disrupting the narrative and questioning who gets represented, who gets a voice. Frank isn’t just documenting, he is critically engaging with power dynamics. Do you agree? Editor: Yes, that resonates. The blank frame almost serves as an accusation of…invisibility. A silence demanding to be filled. I initially saw the film strip numbering as just part of the aesthetic. Now it seems more deliberately subversive. Curator: It underscores the need to question the dominant narratives that are being projected and examine the stories that go unheard or are actively suppressed. Frank urges us to become more critical observers of society. Editor: It makes me realize that documentary photography can be much more than just a neutral record. Thank you, that gives me a lot to think about! Curator: Indeed, by embracing criticality, we ensure art has a function that’s useful for all.