Guggenheim 13--Richmond, Virginia 1955

This is Robert Frank’s “Guggenheim 13--Richmond, Virginia,” a photographic contact sheet. It's a world of black and white, punctuated by thin perforations that mark the filmstrip’s edge. The redness of the selection markings is like a painter’s underdrawing, peeking through. I love the way Frank lets us see the in-between moments, the rejects, the frames that didn’t quite make the cut. It’s like he’s saying, "Hey, this isn’t about perfection, it’s about process." You get a sense of the artist wrestling with his medium, searching for the right shot. The textures are gritty, the light is raw. Look at the strip near the bottom: a road stretching out, flat and empty. It reminds me of Ed Ruscha's gas stations, these mundane American scenes, framed with a kind of detached curiosity. There's a sense of wandering, searching for something real. And the whole thing feels so open-ended, like a question mark hanging in the air.