Festival--Children c. 1941

This is Robert Frank's "Festival—Children," a small, square photograph, and though we don’t know exactly when it was made, it feels old. The tones, a grayscale, are grainy and soft, like charcoal or graphite. The image feels both spontaneous and considered. Look at how Frank captures a moment of communal activity, maybe a school fete or summer fair. It’s a crowd scene but each face is blurred, an anonymous every-person. The composition is so full, the tonal range compacted, that you have to spend some time in it to pick out the details. In the foreground are the backs of some adults, their heads turned away from us, and then, behind them, a flurry of movement around some tables where other people are looking down, perhaps playing a game. That’s what I love about Frank, and other photographers such as Cartier-Bresson - this balance between pure chance and perfect timing. It’s as if they caught the world unawares, in all its messy, vibrant, and fleeting glory. It reminds me of Helen Levitt, another street photographer who snapped New York life with an insider's eye.