Dog cemetery--Paris 11 1959

Robert Frank made this gelatin silver print, *Dog cemetery--Paris 11*, and what grabs me is the process, right there on the surface. It's a contact sheet, film strips, a record of what's been shot. The texture is inherent to the medium. The grain, the scratches, even the way the light is captured. There's a directness, like a sketch in paint, that invites us into Frank's way of seeing. Look at the circular marks. Frank made them to isolate or call out certain frames. It reminds me of how an artist might circle an area of a drawing, to rework it, to make it better. You can feel that active looking. It's about the way we find meaning, not in perfect images, but in the process of searching. The final image becomes the process. It's like the raw vulnerability of Diane Arbus and I can't help but feel that art is a shared language of exploration, across mediums and time. It's not about answers; it's about keeping the conversation alive.