Glider, Zurich 1942 - 1945

Editor: So, this is Robert Frank’s "Glider, Zurich", a gelatin-silver print he created sometime between 1942 and 1945. The stark black and white tones give it an almost nostalgic, documentary feel. It seems to capture a specific moment, a collective gaze focused upwards, and that single wing jutting into the sky. I'm curious, what is your perspective on this, where does your eye go, what do you make of this moment he has captured? Curator: It's funny you say nostalgia, because it does tap into something rather whimsical, almost hopeful, wouldn’t you say? But look closer – those people, that glider, a makeshift apparatus against the vast sky… to me it speaks to the war years, doesn't it? It’s the era of dreams struggling to take flight amidst hardship, a society caught between the earth and sky. Is that soaring wing promise, or futility? Editor: I see what you mean. The "makeshift apparatus" aspect certainly rings true and shifts the mood. Curator: And what about the tilted perspective, off-kilter, the somewhat casual arrangement of figures, with the formal constraint of a sharp linear wing. It’s Frank, isn't it? Already tinkering with perspective, composition... Editor: Absolutely! It’s not a polished heroic image, it’s much more raw and in the moment. I now read that tilted perspective, coupled with that bold linearity as a potential nod towards a burgeoning modernist or abstract aesthetic in contrast with those human faces that draw us towards an immediate experience in this time. Curator: Precisely. Art doesn't happen in a vacuum, does it? Do you see how it now speaks of war, flight, art, all intertwined. I find the experience with Robert Frank so moving because he is never heavy-handed, but instead relies on a kind of simple observation that is complex and heavy with its message. He offers a sense of realism and truth in all of his images. Editor: It's amazing how much is packed into a seemingly simple photograph. Thanks for that!