There are many great images of America. But one of the most poignant ones came courtesy of Robert Frank’s camera lens.
The cover image of the 1958 photo journal The Americans offers a glimpse at riders on a New Orleans streetcar. They stare out the open windows at Frank as he snaps the shutter.
There are many reasons why Frank’s image is iconic. The vintage look of the streetcar.
The various expressions of the riders. The bifurcation of white and Black commuters in the segregated Deep South.
But to me, what stands out most was that the image was taken in black and white.
Now, this is as much a matter of circumstance as anything else. Color photography was a novel concept in 1958. So most photos were taken black and white back then.
And yet, this basic fact adds depth to the picture. Without real-world colors to guide us, we are left to ponder the interplay between light and shadows.
Yes, there’s something timeless about black and white photography. Something this equal parts subtle and powerful.
But this sensation, like the black and white image itself, is falling out of favor.
There’s one constant in my early memories. Color.
I remember drawing with Crayola crayons and mixing hues of Play-Doh in Pre-K. I recall holding up an edge of a multi-colored parachute at recess. And I reminisce on the debates my classmates would have over which Power Ranger was the best. (I favored the Blue Ranger.)
This is no coincidence.
Color identification is one of the staples of early education in America. Through the classroom and the toy market, kids are geared to build a color palette before picking up such skills as reading comprehension and arithmetic.
I’m sure there are cognitive benefits to all this. Few industries put their own product on trial as much as educators do. The color-first orthodoxy has made it through that crucible time and again. So, there must be something there.
Still, I find myself questioning the practicality of it all.
After all, numbers and words are building blocks. As we grow up, they can help us manage our finances and share our thoughts with others. But we can also use them to forge innovations that can change the world.
Color doesn’t have the same untapped power. Yes, it can help us read a traffic light or differentiate water and dry land. But beyond that, it’s mostly fluff.
It would seem to me that we’d want to double down on the areas that will prove most impactful — both as children and adults. But that is far from the case.
Not long ago, I came across an eyebrow-raising New York Times article. It chronicled the newest frontier in the so-called Sneaker Wars — color psychology. This is the phenomenon that’s led to the spate of acid lime, aqua blue, and neon pink footwear out there.
In the article, reporter Mark O’Flaherty explains how shoe conglomerates court attention and promote individualism through unique color palettes. One of the industry executives O’Flaherty interviews even has the title of Head of Color at their brand.
I’m a marketer and a systems-minded thinker. So, this phenomenon should be right up my alley.
But I see the endeavor as nothing more than a gigantic waste of resources.
I’m readily aware of the power of branding. And I understand the emotional impacts different hues can bring. Red-colored items tend to slightly raise the heart rates of people who see them, for instance. Blue-colored items have the opposite effect.
Still, such knowledge is mostly trivial. As individuals, we tend to think of color palettes precisely one time a day — as we get dressed. And companies only switch up their visual branding once in a blue moon. Color doesn’t get much play beyond that.
Shoe companies know this, and they’ve long followed a similarly conservative pattern. When I was growing up, the color choices for athletic shoes tended to be black, white, and gray. Occasionally, I’d see a different color on the shoe’s brand mark, but it would appear nowhere else.
A few years ago, though, I noticed things were starting to change. I was looking for a new pair of all-black Nikes, and I found only two options in the entire store. The rest of the shoes looked to me like a Smurf had vomited on them.
It was clear shoe brands had gone off the deep end. Instead of focusing on fundamentals, they were creating Head of Color positions and devoting themselves to finding the next viral hue.
As someone who favors a reserved wardrobe, I don’t like any of this. Not one bit.
But my concerns go far beyond my own preferences.
Looking at the cover of The Americans from a 21st century angle, it’s hard to fight the temptation to fill in the gaps.
What colors were the riders’ shirts? What about the streetcar itself? Was it a sunny day when Frank took the picture or was it overcast?
We’ll never know the answers to those questions. But we really don’t need to.
The photo is not about the individual details. It’s about the collective body that is American society.
Our societal endeavor is far from perfect, as the image plainly demonstrates. But the shared nature of our experience is critical. The fact that people from different backgrounds and perspectives can both share a streetcar and unite in a glance out of that streetcar — that matters.
We are taught to look beyond the black and white, to search for the shades of gray. Such nuance provides us a better understanding of the world and our unique place in it.
But when we take individualism to the other extreme — when gray become lime green and cotton candy pink — we launch ourselves out of orbit. And, in doing so, we neglect our obligation to build a better society together.
It’s time we come back to Earth. It’s time to eschew the flash and revisit time-honored principles. And it’s time we build upon those principles to make a more equitable, innovative society.
The shine and sparkle of color will always be there to tempt us. But there are more important places for us to focus on.
Let’s find them.