Guggenheim 727--Omaha, Nebraska 1956

Robert Frank's 'Guggenheim 727--Omaha, Nebraska' presents a series of black and white images that create an experience of fractured time and place, almost like flipping through pages of a diary where each snapshot captures a fleeting thought. The composition, a series of frames, has a rhythm all of its own. I’m drawn to the materiality; the graininess, the high contrast. It's not just about what's depicted, but the way the images are presented – the physical strips, the sprocket holes, the editing marks. It's a whole world condensed into a series of little windows. Look at the frame where the building is upside down, or at the angles he shoots from - it’s as though he wants to disorientate us and show us things from an unfamiliar view. Like John Cage composing music or Cy Twombly's scrawls, Frank seems to be playing with chance, disrupting conventional ways of seeing. There’s a sense of searching, of making the process visible. What is revealed is a form of internal landscape, rather than something purely documentary.