Train windows--New York City no number 1955

Robert Frank captured this series of images, 'Train windows--New York City no number' using a camera, likely in the mid-20th century. It’s raw, like a sketchbook page revealing the artist's process. What strikes me is the film strip itself. These aren't presented as polished, isolated images, but a series of frames, each connected, telling a story of time and movement. The grainy texture and high contrast create a sense of immediacy, like a memory half-formed. Look at the way Frank uses light and shadow – the faces in the windows are often obscured, creating a sense of mystery. One frame shows two figures chatting, but it's hard to see any details. It could be anyone, anywhere. Frank's work reminds me a little of the street photography of Garry Winogrand; both artists had a knack for capturing fleeting moments of everyday life. The presentation of the filmstrip suggests an openness to the unexpected, to the beauty found in the imperfect. It's less about perfection, and more about capturing a feeling, a moment in time.