Weekend at Uribe's house no number 1953

Editor: This is Robert Frank's contact sheet, "Weekend at Uribe's house no number," from 1953, a gelatin silver print. It feels… fragmented. Almost like glimpsing at memories. What catches your eye when you look at it? Curator: Fragmented is perfect, actually. Contact sheets are slices of time, right? Here, Frank is like a kid with a new kaleidoscope. Look how he captures snippets, fleeting expressions… Life isn’t a polished studio portrait, it’s this rush of moments, some clear, some blurred. There's a rawness I adore. And the dark tonality contributes to a certain mood of intimacy, doesn’t it? Like we’re peeking at someone's personal diary. Editor: Absolutely. There's an image of a child framed in red. Can you elaborate on why the image would have been marked that way? Curator: Those red grease pencil marks. Chefs kiss, aren't they? In photojournalism that’s when an editor has circled frames for potential enlargement or printing. We are basically seeing right into his decision-making process; the negotiation between what has been shot and what will become significant. Do you gravitate toward certain frames? Editor: I'm drawn to the individual portraits amongst the groups. It creates this interesting contrast. Curator: Exactly. The tension! Are we individuals caught in the collective, or vice versa? Frank just lays it out for us, no neat answers, just feeling. Like he knew that true storytelling lies in the rough edges and quiet rebellions. And maybe... just maybe... there's a touch of poetry in making art of it. Editor: I’ve never really thought of a contact sheet as a work of art in itself. Now I see it captures more than just images; it captures the artist's thought process. Curator: Precisely! It reminds us that art isn't just the final polished piece, it's the journey, the experiment. And sometimes, that's even more captivating.