In the Frame #1 Robert Frank

A detour from photographing and writing about spaces in the city.

Years ago I saw the film 'The Pledge', directed by Sean Penn. I wrote (and re-wrote) this as a response to a detail.

In The Frame

Robert Frank’s book ‘The Americans’ appeared in 1958. The observations hinted at a so-called American Dream, or at least, an inverted reality deep within the heart of the country. The photographs dealt with issues of segregation, disillusionment, the dispossessed and culminated in the myth of any dreams. It wasn’t received well, was deemed too negative as a visual account and thus lingered for many years. Of course, that changed over time as more questions arose about photography as an art medium and Frank’s reputation grew among the ranks of his peers until, eventually, he was recognized as one of the greats. 

The cover of the book taken at a parade in New Jersey, 1955, feels eerie. A figure to the left is slightly obscured in the shadow of the room whilst at the next window another figure tries to see out past the wind-blown stars and stripes. It’s an image that stays because of its ambiguities. The American flag dominates the frame and the people it represents are immersed in shadow or completely blanked.


It implies a darker or a foreboding psyche behind a country that prides itself with freedoms and opportunity. It hints that things are not what they seem. When you consider the passion from Americans regarding their constitution and all that their flag stands for, it becomes a much more powerful image, not just because that some people are shrouded in some kind of secrecy or mystery, but that there are other more powerful people who control that narrative. Sean Penn chose to recreate it within a parade scene in his directorial crime mystery ‘The Pledge’ from 2001, starring Jack Nicholson. 

A flash of the image appears as we follow our detective into the crowds as the height of the film’s atmosphere intensifies. It’s brilliantly placed as it feels like it fits the film’s pace. Was Penn’s intention to rework the imagery into the film to provoke, or evoke something, or is it simply a homage to the great photographer? It’s possible that it’s all these points. What’s certain is that it’s a reminder of the power of visual imagery and for almost 20 years after the film was released, that particular image continues to ask questions about who the Americans were, who they are now, and what they really want to be. 

Changing Spaces. APRIL 2020

Preston centre in particular seems to be evolving fast as spaces are changing. On Pitt Street the six terrace houses that looked out of place, surrounded by car parks, have now vanished and have been replaced with...er, car park. This area is now one giant car park mainly serving the Lancashire County Council and Records offices. It's part of the criteria now, because everyone drives, to create space for cars. Over twenty years following this changing urban landscape, the new spaces created are to be or are already:

a) A car park
b) student accommodation or luxurious/professional accommodations and
c) generic new offices (to let)
d) um, er..that's it.

Change has also arrived at Vernon's Lodge; a fishing pit, central to the land that merges with Penwortham and Lostock Hall. To this day, there's the mystery of rusted green pipework that sits above a concrete platform with an opening facing the fishing pit. Something existed before, but what?

The other surrounding space has been a combination of 'edgeland', marginal-brown field and green belt for many years. It was this latest visit that things were different.

I heard the diggers first and could make out a high wall, obscuring a mound of red rubble. Everything behind had been flattened. The factory was no more. It had been an idea today to investigate again, to see into that place as I only had photographs from the outside. A dog walker told me they were preparing it for flats and the workers were redirecting the flow from the fishing pit as a 'feature'.

"About time, the factory's been closed fifteen year and they only knocked it down twelve month ago. I'm just waiting for the right pay out. We should get that and another house." He lived behind a row of houses which are to be part of the redevelopment. The houses on Sunny Bank, right next to where the factory was are still there. "Oh yeah, people are still living in them. They be waiting as well, till the time is right."

Avenham. A full circle.

This weathered sign once sat on the colonnade in Avenham, Preston near the famous Victorian parks that hug the beautiful River Ribble.

The surface had become a living organism, infecting the map of local history and obscuring the layout. Where there had been the order of paths and borders there was now algae. The texture and the nature of that layer could almost be 'de-mapping'. 

Years later my wife and I are back in the area. There are many hidden histories and traces of stories. Even with half bits of information, they're stories worth discovering to re-tell. Someone told me the colonnade is supposed to be the only Victorian colonnade of its kind in the country. This probably means 'with trees' because there's an arched one with columns in Llandudno. 

The Avenham sign is long gone, taken by the Council. Over time my own views and practices within photography have developed and changed. Like the idea of the sign; without 'the other' layer it is just a sign, a regular map pointing out an area we are to explore. But the surface that now obscures it has awakened a different aesthetic. 

'Belvedere'. This on the website marginalimages.com

The original photograph features three images:

The postcards were in an encased notice board on the north-side entry to Avenham Park and they featured the belvedere in Avenham park and the main avenue in the adjacent Millar Park. 

Prints are available to buy and range from £12.

Other images can be bought on my Etsy page