The Tin Man

Store tin man, Natick, MA. (c) DE Wolf 2015.

Store tin man, Natick, MA. (c) DE Wolf 2015.

Yesterday was a Saturday and I went for a morning walk at the mall. Regular readers of this blog will recognize that this is really a a thinly veiled excuse for a journey in search of espresso and, in this case, a blueberry scone at Nordstrom’s eBar. My IPhone is ever ready to be playful, and I took Figure 1 of a whimsical Tin Man in the children’s department.

Tin men carry childhood memories. I remember vividly visiting my grandmother in the Bronx as a child and just as the IRT emerged into the sunlight there was this tin man on a rooftop. My sister and I always watched for him. I have done some websearching for this rooftop woodsman, but so far have been unable to find him. Perhaps a reader will be able to illuminate me.

But, of course the greater memory was of the Tin man in “The Wizard of Oz.

The Tin man’s quest is to be human, which he equates with having a heart.

“When a man’s an empty kettle he should be on his mettle,
And yet I’m torn apart.
Just because I’m presumin’ that I could be kind-a-human,
If I only had heart.
I’d be tender – I’d be gentle and awful sentimental
Regarding Love and Art.
I’d be friends with the sparrows … and the boys who shoots the arrows
If I only had a heart.”

The Tin man is like the Little Mermaid, Ariel, who also wants to be human. Of course, in her case in the original what she is seeking is a human soul and through that soul the key to immortality But as for the Tin man I think that L. Frank Baum’s lesson is clearer. That being human come from deeds not birthright. You achieve having heart, you are not born with it.

Despite being a symbol of the possibilities of youthful imagination, this store Tin man isn’t meant to be profound just playful. Summer is waning. It is back to school time and for so many children there is a palpable excitement.

“I hear a beat, how sweet!
Just to register emotion, jealousy, devotion
And really feel the part
I could stay young and chipper
And I’d lock it with a zipper
If I only had a heart.”

Jane Morris and the mystery of John Robert Parsons

Figure 1 - John Robert Parson, Jane Burden Morris, 1868, posed by Dante Gabrielli Rossetti. From the Wikipedia and in the public domain in the United States because of its age.

Figure 1 – John Robert Parson, Jane Burden Morris, c1865, posed by Dante Gabriel Rossetti. From the Wikipedia and in the public domain in the United States because of its age.

The last couple of days, when I was searching for exemplary albumen prints, I kept being drawn to a set of photographs like the one of Figure 1. It is a photograph of Jane Burden Morris (1839-1914), was taken in 1868 by John Robert Parsons (c. 1825–1909) and, interestingly, is often marked as posed by Dante Gabriel Rossetti (1828 – 1882). The story itself is pretty straightforward. Rossetti commissioned Parsons to photograph Morris in poses of his choosing, presumably as photo-sketches upon which to base subsequent paintings.  Indeed, I chose this particular example because it comes closest to a later colored chalk drawing of Jane Morris by Rossetti entitled “Reverie, 1868.” This is shown below as Figure 2. Beyond, that well: “It’s Complicated,” especially the love triangle between Rossetti, Jane Morris, and her husband William Morris (1834-1896), the founder of the English Arts and Crafts movement.

Dante Gabriel Rossetti was a founding member, along with William Holman Hunt and John Everett Millais, of the secret (then) society known as the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood. Indeed when they first exhibited these artists cryptically signed their work with the initials “P. R. B” after their names. The Brotherhood became a group of seven with the addition  William Michael Rossetti, James Collinson, Frederic George Stephens and Thomas Woolner. The goal of the group was to create a new movement in art, one defined by copying the extreme detail, intense colors, and complex compositions of nature.  In particular they opposed what William Michael Rossetti called “sloshiness” (“anything lax or scamped in the process of painting”) that typified, in their minds, the work of Sir Joshua Reynolds (1723-1792), who was a founder and first president of the Royal Academy of Arts.  Most significantly, the group associated  with and was championed by the great art critic John Ruskin, whom we have spoken about before.

Pre-Raphaelite painting often took on religious themes and the themes of English myths, Arthurian legend and the stories of Shakespeare. But they brought to these themes a new sense of human reality, which often seemed scandalous at the time. Clear examples of this are John Everett Millais’ 1850 painting “Christ in the House of his Parents,” where the holy family is reveal in a human not stylized fashion; and Rossetti’s 1850 painting “The Annunciation [of the Virgin] or Ecce Ancilla Domini,” where the surprised frightened somber expression on Mary’s face tells the whole story.

After 1856, Dante Gabriel Rossetti was responsible for the ‘medievalising strand’ of the movement, the turning of part of the movement towards medieval stories like Arthurian myth. Many of his paintings featured what we would today refer to as  “femme fatales.” And the woman that he perceived as typifying pre-Raphaelite definition of beauty was Jane Morris. She was featured, in slightly awkward poses, in so many of his works, for instance as his Proserpine (1874)

Jane Morris was born in 1839, Jane Burden. Her father, Robert Burden, was a stableman and her mother Ann Maizey was a laundress. Thus she was that rarity in the England of her day, a woman who advanced in “class.” In 1857, Jane and her sister, Elizabeth,  attended a performance of the Drury Lane Theatre Company in Oxford. Jane  was noticed by Dante Gabriel Rossetti and Edward Burne-Jones who were then painting the Oxford Union murals, based on Arthurian tales. They were struck by her beauty and, they asked her to model for them. She was the model for Rossetti’s Guinevere and later for William Morris’  La Belle Iseult. Morris fell in love with Jane. Curiously by her own admission she was not in love with Morris.

Morris had Jane privately educated so that she would transform into a rich gentleman’s wife. She became proficient in French and Italian and was an accomplished pianist. If this story sounds familiar Jane it is because it was likely the real-life model for Vernon Lee‘s  1884 novel Miss Brown. This character in turn was the basis for Eliza Doolittle in Bernard Shaw’s play Pygmalion (1914) and the later film My Fair Lady.

Jane married William Morris in 1859. Now the plot thickened. In 1871 Morris and Rossetti took out a joint tenancy on Kelmscott Manor.   Morris left on a trip to Iceland leaving Jane and Rossetti to spend the summer furnishing the house. It is believed that Jane and Rossetti’s intimate relationship began in 1865 and lasted until his death in 1882. It would be a disservice to this remarkable lady to confine her minibiography to her association with Rossetti and William Morris. She outlived both of these men. In 1884, Jane Morris met and became enamoured of the poet and political activist Wilfrid Scawen Blunt (1840-1922). Jane was also a dedicated proponent of Irish Home Rule. Jane Morris, was the muse and lover of two great artists of the 19th century and one poet. She was the real-life model and inspiration for Eliza Doolitle. And in her youth, she was the defining beauty of the pre-Raphaelite art movement

But what of John Roberts Parsons? There is remarkably little know about Parsons. Parsons grew up in the Irish County Cork and moved to London in 1840. From 1850 to about 1868, Parsons was a painter and exhibited at the Royal Academy of Arts. Around 1860 he opend a photostudio in Portman Square. In the early  1870s Parsons partnered with Rossetti’s art dealer Charles Augustin Howell and in 1878 they set up an art studio on Wigmore street in London. He appears to have stopped photographing by 1878 . By 1888 he stopped exhibiting and died a decade later in seclusion. Mostly what we have of him are the remarkable portrait studies for Rossetti. We may at some level call him a mystery – though in all likelihood he was simply introverted and reclusive. There is a photograph of Parsons of unknown original and perhaps more significantly a photograph by him of William Morris in 1870

 

Figure 1 - Dante Gabriel Rossetti, colored chalk drawing, "Reverie,1868." in the public domain in the United States because of its age.

Figure 1 – Dante Gabriel Rossetti, colored chalk drawing, “Reverie,1868.” in the public domain in the United States because of its age.

 

http://www.rossettiarchive.org/zoom/sa140eee.img.html

A game changer?

We have spoken before about the effect of terrible images on world opinion, and I have to confess that I generally don’t post about these.  These pictures speak for themselves, and really there is nothing left to say that doesn’t seem pale and trite by comparison. On Wednesday, we saw this image of a Turkish police officer cradling the body of drowned migrant child Aylan Kurdi near the Turkish resort of Bodrum. The family was trying to cross to Greece on Tuesday when their boat capsized and the mother and two of her children — Aylan and Ghalib — had perished. The father, Abdullah, survived at least physically.

The news media has repeatedly announced that this single photograph represents a came changer in the refugee tragedy now unfolding in Europe. I really hope so, and I suspect that the photograph will win all sorts of awards. But sadly I doubt that the effect will be long lasting.. In the United States we focus on the idea of building a wall along the Mexican border. The real wall is always in people’s hearts.

The albumen technique

Figure 1 - Alois Locherer "Transporting the Statue of Bavaria to , 1850" in the public domain in the United States becuase of its age.

Figure 1 – Alois Locherer “Transporting the Statue of Bavaria to Theresienwiese , 1850” in the public domain in the United States because of its age.

The technical process of making an albumen print is relatively straight forward and it is still accessible to photographers today through alternative photography sites such as Bostik and Sulilivan (see also). Interestingly, in the nineteenth century the albumen process did not lend itself to mass production and was largely done by hand.  Also the vast majority of albumen print workers were women.

  1. A piece of paper is first coated with an emulsion of egg white (albumen) and salt (sodium chloride or ammonium chloride), then dried. The albumen acts as a sizer to seal the paper, creating a semi-gloss finish upon which the sensitizer can rest. In commercial manufacture this coating was typically done by floating the paper on a bath of albumen and salt.
  2. The paper is bathed in a solution of silver nitrate, the sensitizer,  making it sensitive to ultraviolet radiation.
  3. The paper is then dried in the absence of UV light. That is out of the sunlight.
  4. When ready to use the paper is placed in a frame in direct contact with the negative. Analogue photographers will remember the critical rule of emulsion side down.  Typically in the nineteenth century the negative was a glass plate. If glass is not used then a sheet of glass is used to maintain contact of paper and negative.  The frame typically opens in halves so that the exposure can be observed without moving the paper relative to the negative.
  5. The frame and therefore the paper is exposed to sunlight, or today UV lamps, until the image achieves the desired density.
  6. The paper is removed from the frame and fixed in  bath of sodium thiosulfate to remove unexposed silver.
  7. And then,  – The Beauty – the image is optionally toned by soaking in a toning solution of gold or selenium.

Today we are reminded of the nasty chemicals of analogue photography, although albumen printing uses the sun for developing.  We are much more eco-conscious than our predecessors. But compared, for instance, to making a daguerreotype this was nothing from a toxicity point of view.

Again, I think that all of this technical stuff earns us the right or privilege to marvel at another great nineteenth century albumen print. I discovered on the Plaidpetticoats blogspot  this wonderful photograph by nineteenth century German photographer Alois Locherer (1815-1862) entitled “Transporting the Bavaria Statue to Theresienwiese, 1850”.  The first thing that crossed my mind on looking at it was Gulliver in Lilliput.

 

September’s first light

Figure 1 - August 31, 2015, September's First Light. Fresh Pond Reservation, Cambridge, MA. (c) DE Wolf 2015.

Figure 1 – August 31, 2015, September’s First Light. Fresh Pond Reservation, Cambridge, MA. (c) DE Wolf 2015.

I went walking on Monday, August 31st, in the intensity of a late summer’s heat. It wasn’t unbearably humid, just very hot. There was that sultry silence of late summer. And there were the colors of dried vegetation: fluffy milkweed, wilting cone flowers, and desiccated Queen Anne’s Lace. The birds were for the most part silent – their voices silenced by the torrid temperature. I am not sure where they go or what they do during these afternoon siestas.  Along the path by Black’s Nook I saw this giant tree illuminated with an intense side light complete with the dancing shadows of the surrounding forest. Here it was the last day of August, and this tree was already bathed in the first glorious light of September.

An awful lot of wind and rain

Figure 1 - Tracking three hurricanes over the Hawaiian Islands on August 31, 2015. From US NOAA and in the public domain because it was produced by an agency of the US government.

Figure 1 – Tracking three hurricanes over the Hawaiian Islands on August 31, 2015. From US NOAA and in the public domain because it was produced by an agency of the US government.

The United States National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration posted this spectacular photograph to it webpage.  That’s abbreviated NOAA for obvious biblical reasons. It is a rare meteorological event. Three major hurricanes are being tracked over the Hawaiian islands. It’s those robotic eyes again for lovers of images of the Great Blue Marble from space. The cobalt blue of the ocean is wonderful.

The problem of the photographic emulsion

Figure 1 - Albumen print by Frances Frith, "Travelers boat at Ibrim (1856-1859) in the public domain in the United States because of its age.

Figure 1 – Albumen print by Frances Frith, “Travelers boat at Ibrim (1856-1859) in the public domain in the United States because of its age.

I wanted to talk about the albumen process from a technical point-of-view.  But first, we need to deal with a sticky issue: what is an emulsion? Back in the day when science was still taught in American schools most people would have answered: mayonnaise. Mayonnaise is an answer to the technical problem in cooking of how do I get two imiscible liquids, oil and water to mix, and the answer is that you add egg yolks. Egg yolk contains a compound called lecithin which acts like an “emulsifying agent.”

OK so far, what about photographic emulsions? Well photographic emulsions are not technically true emulsions, because what they are are silver halide crytals (so a solid) dispersed or suspended in a liquid (typically gelatin nowadays). Well, the distinction between emulsions and colloidal suspensions is really a big snore and quite besides the point.

The important point is that the photographic emulsion was invented to solve a very important problem in the development of photography. You will recall that the Daguerreotype was invented in 1838 and produced truly magnificent images. You could examine them with a magnifier or loupe and they would reveal exquisitely resolved detail. But its image was merely a silver-mercury amalgam film lying precariously atop a silver plate. It was fragile and delicate. And perhaps, more significantly it was a direct positive process that didn’t lend itself well to the creation of multiple copies, ideally on paper.  Public demand is the mother of invention.

Reproduction was, of course, the goal of William Henry Fox Talbot’s calotype process, where the vehicle for the negative was paper and the second image was produced from the negative onto a similarly light-sensitized sheet of paper. An artistic, luminous, softness image is the essence of the calotype process. But it could not equal the sharpness and realism of the daguerreotype. In the calotype the light-sensitive salts are suffused into the paper. What was needed was to produce a transparent sharp layer that could be placed on either glass to produce a negative or on shiny paper to produce a positive from the negative. The use of albumen from eggs as an emulsion for glass negatives was invented independently by two Frenchmen in 1848, Niepce de Saint Victor and Louis Desire Blanquart-Evrard. As it turned out the production of glass negatives with albumen “emulsions” proved technically difficult on a large scale. There was just two much variability. But its use as an emulsion on paper became the dominant process for the next half century, with negatives produced first by Frederick Scott Archer’s wet collodion process and subsequently by dry plates, which used gelatin as the emulsifying agent.  The dry plate was invented in 1871 by Dr. Richard L. Maddox. Maddox’s dry plates were extremely sensitive to touch. A method of hardening the gelatin emulsion was discovered by Charles Bennett in 1873. Significantly, Bennet also discovered that prolonged heating of the emulsion significantly increased its light sensitivity. The era of high ISO films was born. The rest as they say is history…

With all this technical talk I think that we deserved a lovely nineteenth century albumin photograph to look at. Figure 1 is by the great nineteenth century travel photographer Francis Frith (1822-1898 ), taken in Egypt (1856 – 1859) and entitled “Traveler’s Boat in Ibrim.”

 

The sentinel

Figure 1 - Double crested cormorant on the old fountain head by the Glacken Slope restoration. Frsh Pond, Cambridge, MA. (c) DE Wolf 2015.

Figure 1 – Double crested cormorant on the old fountain head by the Glacken Slope restoration. Fresh Pond, Cambridge, MA. (c) DE Wolf 2015.

Most of the large water birds that you see, the egrets and the herons, are stealthy hunters always either on the move, however slowly, or ready to lunge. A notable exception to this are the double crested cormorants (Phalacrocorax auritus). You see them out swimming on the water, launching themselves beneath the surface in search of food and you see them standing on the rocks drying their wings. But a lot of times they are just standing there as if in contemplation, as if they were sentinels just watching, just guarding.

I took this image of such a bird last week.  H was standing on the old fountain head by the Glacken Slope restoration on Fresh Pond in Cambridge, MA. As is often the case, especially on cloudy days, the water on that part of the pond is gray and almost motionless. Despite my admiration of the yellow or orange throats of these cormorants, I decided in the end to process the shot as a black and white, to emphasize the silhouette. It is very unusual for me to photograph a bird in black and white. Color is typically so defining. Black and white focuses on form. The toning, I think, adds just a dash of brightness to the image.These are one of the more primordial looking of birds. You watch them, observe their vigillance, and you are taken back, reminded of their prehistoric origins. It is humbling, for so they have watched for millions of years.

Canon T2i with EF70-200mm f/4L USM lens at 200 mm . ISO 1600, Aperture Priority AE mode, 1/3200 sec at f/7.1 with +1 exposure compensation.

Dancing by the light of the moon

According to my calendar Labor Day is rapidly approaching. Indeed, in most years this would be Labor Day weekend, and this coming Tuesday marks the end of meteorological summer in the Northern Hemisphere. So soon? Boston is a city of colleges and universities and the population is about to expand. With that boom will come a vibrancy of mood, but for now it all remains pretty quiet. We await the September light and the crisp chromatic days of October.

This past week has been grotesque, if you spent much time watching the news. The word sadly is “inured.” We are becoming hardened to images and videos of violence. And that is compounded by political groups that seek to manipulate us in one direction or another with these images – showing them over and over again in an attempt to control us. It just accelerates the hardening.  I am already sick of the 2016 presidential election in the United States. We cannot seem to rise above the least common denominator, which is I guess analogous to water’s always seeking the lowest point it can.

So this morning I was determined to find a photograph of the week that was visually appealing and perhaps upbeat. And my search was rewarded with a marvelous image by Jorge Duenes for Reuters to showing hikers in Tijuana, Mexico silhouetted against  super-moon. It is striking how super-moons have come to affect us. It is as if we are looking for some ancient magic mysticism to take away the insane pain of modern times. There is no ultimate solace (or is it “lunlace?”) to be found there. We have to take responsibility.

But in tesrms of art and emotions, this image functions at so many different levels. It is simply delightful but at the same time brings with it something primordial. And, of course, to the waning boomer generation it is a remembrance of things past. The world forever waxes and wanes.