Guggenheim 157--New York City 1956 - 1957

Editor: Robert Frank’s gelatin silver print, “Guggenheim 157—New York City,” made between 1956 and 1957, strikes me as a kind of visual poem. It’s all these layers of images, a collection of fleeting moments that hint at something bigger. What stories do you see woven within this photographic contact sheet? Curator: Indeed, the contact sheet format is itself a powerful symbol. Frank gives us access to the artist’s eye. The film strips suggest memory, how moments blur and fade, yet leave impressions. Consider the repetition of figures in transit, people going up and down elevators. How does the architectural symbol of the Guggenheim contribute to the meaning? Editor: I think the spiral structure of the Guggenheim is present even though it is not literally captured. It is a suggestion of upward movement. It is a metaphor for social climbing, or maybe spiritual ascension? Curator: Perhaps. Or consider that a symbol can operate in different ways. What do elevators mean within cultural narratives? Elevators are liminal spaces, where status, power, and anonymity are brought together. Consider these images alongside those from Frank’s seminal book, *The Americans.* Editor: The images feel like stolen glances, somehow both detached and intimate, echoing that sense of American alienation that is prevalent in his book. The sequencing and choice of images becomes as significant as the subjects themselves. How does Frank imply meaning here through repetition? Curator: Note how people are often looking away. Some appear trapped. The recurrence of blurred figures symbolizes how easily people become lost, dehumanized within modernity. He invites us to recognize that beneath the gleaming surface of the city lies a pervasive sense of isolation. Editor: I see what you mean; the images offer a poignant look at that mid-century anxiety. Thank you! Curator: A potent and visually arresting meditation. It will stay with me.