Guggenheim 658--San Francisco c. 1956

This is Robert Frank’s “Guggenheim 658—San Francisco,” a series of photographs printed onto a film strip, creating a matrix of moments, a kind of loose grid that reminds me of making a collage. Look closely and you'll see a red grease pencil encircling a frame of a shop front, the word ART hovering in the window. A key image? Or just a random thought, captured on the surface? Frank's work feels deeply intuitive, like a visual diary where images tumble out in a stream of consciousness. The blacks are rich and contrasty, like thick impasto paint. The surface texture makes me feel like I could touch it, the opposite of a digital screen, which feels cool and distant. I see Frank as a precursor to artists like Nan Goldin, who also used photography to capture raw, unfiltered moments of life. Both artists embrace the messiness of the world, reminding us that art doesn't always have to be polished or perfect. It can be a reflection of our own chaotic, beautiful, and imperfect lives.