(1958) wasn’t the first photobook Robert Frank ever made. That would be (1946), a hand-bound compilation of work which the revolutionary American photographer produced while still apprenticing in Switzerland. Frank made three more over the next six years—including a scrapbook for his soon-to-be wife, artist Mary Lockspeiser. This month, “Mary’s Book” gets a rare outing at the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston.
Frank made this book during his first trip back to Europe after moving to America in 1947. Its images are aching and romantic, and Mary Frank held his relic tight. It ended up in the MFA’s collection only three years ago, courtesy of noted photography dealer Howard Greenberg.
Starting December 21, “Robert Frank: Mary’s Book” will present the original scrapbook in full for the first time ever, alongside a few other related photographs Frank produced in Paris around this same time. The exhibition joins a slate of shows celebrating the late photographer’s 100th birthday this past year. At the MFA, “Robert Frank: Mary’s Book” also helps commemorate a century since the museum started collecting photography.
This keepsake wasn’t made to be exhibited, but rather to be cherished, and the intimacy is palpable. More than 70 photos imbue icons of everyday life in Paris with pensive longing. These images play out across six pages nestled into each other, assembled and annotated in the photographer’s own hand. According to curator Kristen Gersh, “Mary’s Book” marked the first time Frank paired pictures with text.
The exhibition also marks the first time the public will be able to see the full scrapbook all at once. Each page will stand upright across specially designed cases, rendering both sides of every page visible.
The features of Frank’s work that made him a sensation 10 years later abound throughout these pages. Melancholy and buoyant curiosity intermingle. Frank clearly missed his lover back in America. He also maintained and displayed delight.
“I am particularly drawn to the spreads on Parisian park chairs,” Gersh said in an email. “Frank described seeing the chairs pretty much all over Paris and wrote to Mary that when the chairs are alone, they seem sad—perhaps a reflection of his own emotions.”
“Frank’s documenting of chairs includes pictures of both intentional and haphazard formations; he anthropomorphizes them and has these objects represent human feelings and emotions,” Gersh continued. “In the center left of one spread is a picture of a lone, partially folded chair resting in a fragile fashion on its collapsed legs. This chair standing alone is perhaps the chair most imbued with animistic qualities and Frank himself found lasting importance in this lone chair as it was found in a frame in his apartment at the end of his life.”
Couples reappear, too, and not just pairs of people, but also in more subtle forms, like a diptych depicting a double advertisement. Such moments demonstrate Frank’s adeptness with symbolism, which matured throughout his later film practice and after his move to Nova Scotia. “Mary’s Book” presents an unparalleled opportunity to encounter this titan a bit more personally.
Source: Exhibition - news.artnet.com