Ford Plant 1955

Here's a black and white photograph by Robert Frank, probably taken with a handheld camera, judging by the intimate, up-close framing. I imagine Robert Frank prowling around, feeling for the right angle. It's like he’s trying to find the heart of the place. He zeroes in on this Ford factory worker; his gaze is direct, yet there’s a sense of distance, of being caught between worlds. What was the exchange between photographer and sitter? Did they talk? What did Frank say? The composition is all about layers, repetition and industrial shapes, drawing you into the stark reality of the factory floor. There’s a rawness to it, a sort of gritty poetry that reminds me of the Bechers' typologies, but with more soul, more edge. It's like Frank is saying, "Look, this is America, in all its beauty and all its struggle." It’s an image that stays with you, a quiet rebellion against the polished version of reality.