The exhibition “Looking In: Robert Frank’s The Americans” at the National Gallery couldn’t have come to D.C. at a more appropriate time. The Americans, one of the most important photography books of the post-WWII era, revealed American society beneath the 1950s’ superficial optimism encapsulated by consumerism and idolatry. Frank rebelled against the classic icons of movie stars and Western cowboys, and captured segregation, racism, and the alienation of a consumer-driven culture, revealing jukeboxes and cars as the new symbols of his contemporary culture.
Frank’s rebellion against an optimistic age has gone on display at a time when America could not be more optimistic. It is a time when the art world seems to have lost much fodder for political grievances with the departure of Bush, and Obama has ascended to iconic status.
So why is it an appropriate time for such an exhibit? Well, for starters, the photo of a segregated New Orleans trolley reminds us of how far we’ve come in the past 50 years. But the exhibit also pulls us back into our own grainy reality, forcing us to wonder what a two-year-long photo road trip across the States would look like if Frank made the journey half a century later.
Frank, a Jewish Swiss photographer, saw America through an outsider’s lens. His Jewish background made him sympathetic towards the social outcasts of the American mainstream, most notably gay and black Americans. During McCarthy’s Red Scare, police arrested Frank for looking like a suspicious foreigner and jailed him for 12 hours, an event that undoubtedly influenced his exposure of the darker underbelly of the nation.
Still, his photographs are not all negative. While Frank portrays politicians, the exorbitantly wealthy, and Hollywood starlets in isolated poses or grainy images that suggest aloofness and charade, there is also a sense of awe in his approach to the American lifestyle. An empty kitchen with a television screen and a glaring light streaming through the window adds a mystical, beautiful quality to one particular photograph.
Of course, Frank’s images intrigue beyond just their historic value. The shifty focus and awkward cropping of his photographs gave them an ahead-of-their-time flare and avoided entrenchment in one era alone. But there is also something in his subject matter that continues to resonate with viewers. His images, while telling of the ‘50s, parallel our own celebrity idolatry, the persistent racism, self-interested politicians, and thoughtless consumerism. While Frank may have been looking in on a culture he felt largely removed from, contemporary viewers can look out beyond his images and upon the social realities that persist, even as we enter a new era of optimism.
Don’t catch the Red Scare, send Madeline a rebel yell at mreidy@staff.georgetownvoice.com.
