Convention hall—Chicago 1956

Robert Frank made this gelatin silver print, "Convention hall—Chicago," sometime in the mid-20th century. The high contrast creates a field of tonality where details emerge from the darkness. Like memories, some things are sharp and others fade away. There’s a kind of rawness in the grain, and in the composition too. The subjects are cropped. It gives the image a feeling of urgency, like a quick glance. Our eyes are drawn to the man in the foreground, his gaze directed upwards, towards something we can’t see. The angle makes me wonder what he is looking at. Frank reminds me a little bit of Garry Winogrand, who also captured fleeting moments of urban life. Both artists share this casual, almost accidental approach to photography. They're not trying to create perfect images, but snapshots that capture the world's messy, imperfect beauty. It’s this ambiguity that makes art so endlessly fascinating.