Family and Ben Schultz--Southampton no number 1954

Curator: Wow, look at this contact sheet from Robert Frank, titled "Family and Ben Schultz—Southampton no number" from 1954. It’s a fascinating peek behind the scenes of his process. Editor: It's a bit like rifling through a magician’s scrapbook, isn't it? Bits and bobs of a summer day… and then some haunting interiors. Almost voyeuristic. It's interesting how many frames deal with nature - leaves or a backyard Curator: Right. What strikes me is Frank's ruthless editing process laid bare. The red crayon marks designating "the chosen ones." You get this real sense of how he constructed his narratives. And the film strips remind me of how, by the mid 50s, Frank tried to record on camera all details of America’s mundane aspects. Editor: It is raw, isn’t it? So unlike the polished perfection we often associate with fine art photography. You almost feel you shouldn’t be looking at it. Do you think it adds to or diminishes the allure of the finished work? Curator: That's the genius, I think. He wasn't afraid to show the mess, the doubt, the search for meaning in the everyday. Remember, at the time, his approach was considered really controversial—blurring the lines between documentary and artistic expression. The tension in each capture tells us a story by itself Editor: It does force you to re-think, to look beyond the usual iconic images we have. Even though you would only ever know who “Ben” or that “family” actually are. It opens all manner of speculation of that scene Curator: Speculation's great! Ultimately it offers such valuable insight into a giant’s vision, and it reframes the ways photography could be interpreted. So it leaves you pondering, that's what art's meant to do. Editor: I agree, its imperfect construction somehow renders this image truly singular and poetic, and definitely very different than if those details were excluded or concealed, and this imperfect construction renders a singular and almost raw poetry that truly lingers.