Studio, Mabou 2002

Curator: Robert Frank’s "Studio, Mabou" whispers secrets. It’s held at the Tate Collections, a silver gelatin print, but it feels like looking through a fractured mirror. Editor: Yes, a gridded window distorts the interior, a desk cluttered with instruments, a bed barely there. It’s…melancholy. Like glimpsing a memory fading at the edges. Curator: Frank often played with those blurred lines, didn't he? The grid almost imprisons the scene, perhaps mirroring the confines of creation, the artist trapped within his studio. Editor: Or maybe it's about viewing the artist through the lens of fame, a public trying to peer into his private world, divided and framed by their own expectations. Curator: That’s a stark perspective, but Frank always engaged with the politics of seeing, didn’t he? What do we truly capture when we photograph? What do we miss? Editor: What we miss is the artist's breath. The imperfections are deliberate, adding layers of story. Curator: Stories that are ours now. Editor: For us to interpret, and hopefully, to feel.