Family no number 1960

Curator: Robert Frank's 1960 gelatin silver print, "Family no number", immediately strikes me as a fragmented narrative. Editor: Absolutely, I get a sense of disjointedness, almost voyeuristic, peeking into someone's life without fully grasping the context. The stark contrasts and desaturated tones add to the melancholic atmosphere. Curator: Frank's work often delves into the complexities of American life, revealing both its beauty and its disillusionment. Here, he uses the film strip as a storytelling device, reminiscent of film noir. Editor: True. And seeing the film strip itself, the material reality of the photographic process, shifts my perspective. It isn’t just capturing reality, it’s constructing a particular narrative, shaping our view, perhaps critiquing it. Curator: Consider the scenes: children playing on a monument, a possible bedroom, figures in open fields and then of course the repeated presence of the American flag. It's almost like Frank is trying to dissect the American identity in this period. What’s it like for you? Editor: It makes me uneasy. These moments, strung together like this, lose their individual meaning. What are these people looking at, feeling, and why am I looking? I feel complicit. The ordinary bordering the extraordinary, but presented without a clear message or agenda and that adds to my discomfort, beautifully. Curator: I see what you mean. The lack of a clear narrative pushes us to confront our own biases and expectations. Editor: It does feel intentional, this questioning of our relationship to photography, how we absorb images, how much they can, or can’t, ever tell us. Curator: Precisely. It encourages introspection beyond what’s displayed. Editor: In short, a piece which forces me to think. Something I respect immensely in a modern artwork. Curator: A fascinating perspective.