Funeral--New York City no number 1955

This is a photographic film sheet by Robert Frank, titled "Funeral--New York City no number." Looking at this film strip, it's the dark and light that really grabs you, right? I mean, how the image flickers between the stark white facade of the building and the deep black of the film itself. It’s like a memory, flickering, fragmented, never quite whole. The texture of the film grain gives the image a gritty, almost tactile quality. You can practically feel the streets of New York, the weight of the moment. And that stark contrast, it's not just aesthetic. It speaks to the sharp edges of life, the way joy and sorrow, presence and absence, can coexist in the same frame. Notice the group of figures clustered outside the building, their forms blurred and indistinct. Are they mourners, witnesses, or just passersby? It’s up to you, and that is how Frank gives us space to make sense of things. Frank's work often played with this tension between clarity and ambiguity, reminding us that art, like life, is rarely black and white. I am reminded of the films of Hollis Frampton, both artists playing with the nature of time. What do you see?