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For all its apparent rigor, there's an oddball quirkiness to Sander's system.

Hahaha, they could well be farm workers who would box in their spare time or something. I would never have Sander written off as the dispassionate observer scientist. You can't be, you know. When you prick that, that butterfly with a pin, that is, you know, there's, there's an electric charge there, and that's just the same as when you press that shutter.

He shows you so much about how these people want to be seen, and at the same time, so little about what's actually going on inside their minds, and yet it's full of implications, it's full of hints. There is all the way through Sander's best works sense of a world that's pregnant with things that cannot be spoken of.

The unspoken that lies behind Sander's pictures is the chaotic condition of Germany in the 1920s. The Weimar Republic was a society in meltdown: hyperinflation, mass unemployment, political violence on the streets. All of Sander's subjects would have lived with the consequences of that chaos.

Let's find the Notary. Here is this notary who, who stands erect with his dog, in an overcoat. And it seems to me that the overcoat is perhaps the most eloquent thing in the picture, and the, the reason why is that it would once have been an elegant coat, but it's begun to lose its shape, and yet the notary fills it out as if he is an oak tree, he fills it out as if it hasn't changed in any way. And so it's to me, what this is a photograph of, is a man who attempts to preserve his position, at least for the camera, to say to the photographer, to say to whoever is going to see this picture, 'I am no less than I always was, which is a person you should respect.'

One of the Sander photographs I love most is, is this picture of a woman in her late twenties, perhaps early thirties, and her baby and a little black Pomeranian dog sitting in the grass, and the child sits there hopeful and, and quite trusting with his apple there in the hands. And then in the expression of this mother is knowledge of something much more, something that she won't tell us about, something she can't tell us about. And, and I sometimes feel, looking at the face of this woman, about whom I know nothing other than, than this, what she shows me on her face, I sometimes feel that this woman is saying, to me, the viewer, 'but there's nothing you can do to help me.'