Category Archives: Essays on Photography

Schrodinger’s cat and the principle of relativity

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Figure 1 – Schrodinger’s Cat, origin and copyright status unknown.

It is the last day of the year, which means that it is my last opportunity, at least for this annum, to do something that I have never done before on Hati and Skoll. That is to share something I’ve seen on social media. Several times this year I have seen or been sent the image of Figure 1. I do not know its origin. Erwin Schrodinger admitted defeat, when his cat smugly proved that the box both exists and does not exist at the same time…”

Obviously this is a jab at the whole Schrodinger cat in the box quantum entanglement thing.  But it is so much more than a simple play on the meme of Schrodinger and his cat. As all lovers of things cat, physicists and otherwise, it is symbolic that ultimately the cat is master of his or her domain. And to the cat there is no ambiguity. The box is. The cat knows that it is, but asserts that if it is absolutely still and silent, you may not observe it. That is your problem, fur sure. Also Schrodinger’s assumption that there are two states of cat, alive and dead, ignores the fundamental quantum point that while dead is dead, the state of cat being alive is nine-fold degenerate. Also the transition of the cat between the dead state and one of the nine alive states requires the absorption or emission of a caton – not to be confused with a cation, which is something altogether different.

Now there is evidence that while Schrodinger lived in Oxford in the nineteen thirties that he owned a cat named Milton. This raises the question of why Schrodinger’s equation is based on the Hamiltonian rather than the Miltonian operator. In Hamiltonian mechanics two variables may be canonically conjugate in the Hamiltonian sense, while in Miltonian mechanics, they may be catatonically conjugate in the MIltonian sense. We may conclude, perhaps, that it should have been the Maltonian operator because, as pointed out by A. E Housman, “malt does more than Milton can to justify God’s ways to man.”

As natural as a cat sitting in the middle of a box-shaped sunbeam may be, it does point us to another principle of modern physics – the principle of relativity. Loosely the point is that if you do an experiment, say a chemical reaction, on a carousel, you will see the same results regardless if the observer is sitting on the carousel or on a park bench beside the carousel. “In physics, the principle of relativity is the requirement that the equations describing the laws of physics have the same form in all admissible frames of reference. For example, in the framework of special relativity the Maxwell equations have the same form in all inertial frames of reference“ – from the Wikipedia, if you prefer.

So from the cat’s frame of reference, you both exist and do not exist until you open the box and look in. Actually, truth be-knownst, the cat doesn’t really care if you exist until it is time to be fed. And finally, as shown in Figure 2, and as all cats know – the principle of relativity must be extended to take into account the fundamental feline recognition (for they are much wiser than thou or me) that the box is everywhere and in everything. Happy New Year, Everyone.

Figure 2 – Cloe’ wears the pants in her family and demonstrates the ubiguity of “the box.”. (c) DE Wolf 2017.

The quest for Willoughby

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Figure 1 – John Daley as Gart Williams in “Stop at Willoughby.” FRom the Wikipedia and believed to be in the public domain in the US.

Part of the appeal of old photographs of bucolic scenes and ill-remembered times is what I like to call the “Quest for Willoughby.” This refers to a first season classic episode of “The Twilight Zone,” called “A Stop at Willoughby.” The story features a man named Gart Williams, who is an advertising executive, now pretty dissatisfied with his job, his demanding wife, and his overbearing boss. He falls asleep on his commuter train as it travels through a November snow. It is always November. He wakes up to find that his train transformed to a 19th century railway car is empty and has stopped. Outside it is a bright summer July day in 1888. He jerks back to “true” wakefulness. The conductor has never heard of Willoughby.

That night, he has a fight with his shrewish wife Jane. The events on the train repeat themselves the following week. Then he has a breakdown at work. On the phone his wife announces that she is leaving him. So that day he abandons his briefcase on the train and gets off at Willoughby, where people welcome him to their idyllic village.The scene shifts, as it often did in The Twilight Zone. The swinging pendulum of the train station clock fades out and into the swinging conductor’s lantern The conductor is standing over Williams’ body and explains that the man shouted something about Willoughby and jumped off the moving train. In the last scene Mr. Williams’ body is carried into a hearse that bears the lettering Willoughby & Son.

Hmm! So very freaky. Again, The Twilight Zone always was. And Willoughby became emblematic of the quest for the idyllic. And smiling at the idyllic is part of the appeal of old photographs. They have, of course, to be very old. Because if they are from our lifetimes, we may fondly remember momma, but all the negatives of the times come rushing back at us, and we can become rather maudlin about the lack of true progress in human affairs. There is always war, always disease, always hate. There were lynchings in the woods behind Willoughby and if you wanted a job at the local bank, well “Jews and Irish need not apply.” The world is always a combination of the good and the bad – no better then really than now. And I guess, that the most important point is that rather than dream of Camelot, we are far better off dreaming of how to make things better now.

“Miniver Cheevy, child of scorn,
   Grew lean while he assailed the seasons;
He wept that he was ever born,
   And he had reasons…
 
Miniver Cheevy, born too late,
   Scratched his head and kept on thinking;
Miniver coughed, and called it fate,
   And kept on drinking.”
 
Miniver Cheevy, Edwin Arlington Robinson
 

Marie Curie

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Figure 1 – Pierre and Marie Curie in their laboratory c 1904 from the Wkipedia and in the public domain by virtue of its age. Photographer unknown.

Let’s face it, demagogues and rock stars are generally more popular than scientists. Still it may be argued that the legacy of the scientist is ultimately more enduring. I started thinking the other day about historic photographs of great scientists, and the point struck me that such images are often very contrived in the sense that they are often constructed so as to show the scientist in his/her natural habitat, as it were. There is so often a symbol of their discovery in the photograph. They are memetic, and probably their endurance derives from the timelessness of the meme. More fundamentally, these images are so often advertisements. We always hear about how the scientist is ever seeking money to fund discovery; so often the image was taken for fundraising purposes.

I think that a very key example of this are images of Madame Curie. She was always seeking money to fund research or charities, and her story, her trials and tribulations, are legendary. Figure 1 is a classic image of the Curies in their laboratory. Pierre is gentlemanly and gaunt. He looks at us and seems to stand in deference to his wife. Marie is beautiful in simplicity. And the instruments, we love looking at them. Principal here is the balance. But there are others, and Pierre was famous for his self-built instruments, often the finest in the world.

Let me pause for a moment. The Curies were truly heroic figures, and it is not because of the difficult conditions that they worked under, nor because of Pierre’s untimely death by horse carriage. It is because every chemist of the day knew the fundamental mantra of chemistry, that matter could not be created or destroyed; it could only change its form. The transmutation of elements, turning lead into gold, was misguided superstition. But then their research led them down the forbidden path. They checked their calculations and then heroically followed that path. I cannot overstate the point. These were Olympian figures that created a new age.

L0001759 Portrait of Marie Curie and her daughter Irene
Credit: Wellcome Library, London. Wellcome Images
images@wellcome.ac.uk
http://wellcomeimages.org
Photograph: portrait of Marie Curie and her daughter, Irene; anon., 1925.
Photograph
1925 Published: –
Copyrighted work available under Creative Commons Attribution only licence CC BY 4.0 http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/

But the public image of Madame Curie was more complex. Yes, she was a great scientist. In 1903, she was the first woman to win the Nobel Prize in Physics. Significantly only after Pierre’s protestations that she be included. In 1911 she won it for a second time in Chemistry.

There were so many images that emphasized her feminine side – motherly portraits with her children. My favorite is Figure 2 from 1925 that shows Marie working in the laboratory with her daughter Irene, who ultimately also won the Nobel Prize. The image that completes this developed public persona is that of Figure 3, which shows Madame Curie with a nurse and her portable X-Ray machine to help French soldiers on the Western Front during World War I.

Figure 3 – Marie Curie with a nurse and her mobile Xray machine during World War II. From the Wikimedia Commons and in the public domain in the US because of its age.

Marie Curie was on of the great scientist of and for all time. She stands as a defining figure of the twentieth century. Her own words about being a scientist were simple:

“A scientist in his laboratory is not a mere technician: he is also a child confronting natural phenomena that impress him as though they were fairy tales.”
 
But let me not end with a quote. I’d like to share one more photograph – something very different that seems so meaningful. Figure 5 shows Madame Curie and Albert Einstein together deep in conversation. The image, like the world it alludes to, is foggy, grainy, and dark. It is cold and not yet known. It must be confronted and the cobwebs of fairy tales cast aside.
 

Figure 5 – Albert Einstein and Marie Curie from the Wikimedia Commons and in the public domain in the US because  because its copyright has expired and its author is anonymous.

The first day of school

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Figure 1 – Teacher and children in front of a one room sod schoolhouse, Woods County, Oklahoma, Territory 1895. From the Wikipedia and the US NARA This work is in the public domain in the United States because it is a work prepared by an officer or employee of the United States Government as part of that person’s official duties

Today was a beautiful late summer’s morning in Massachusetts. Suddenly the traffic has intensified – in an instant. This is because in many towns today is the first day of school. I delighted in passing house after house where the parents had lined their children up on the doorstep to take cell phone photographs. The boys wear clean khakis, their hair combed out. In my day we had a lacquer that we wore to school. It basically pasted down your hair and “come wind or wrack” (Shakespeare again) nothing would move a hair of it. The little girls wear pink dresses and seem so much more willing to accept the experience. They all wear what Shakespeare referred to in the “ages of man” soliloquy a sunny morning face. I have heard that parents slow the whole bus route down to snap images of little Johnny or little Suzie one leg up onto the bus.

But it is all so delightful, a rite of passage for the twenty-first century. It is such a quintessential subject for the cellphone. Just take an image or little video and send it off to grandma. I thought for a moment about fading Kodacolor prints from an earlier age, my earlier age. I am so fascinated about how this record will be saved, sorted, and selected by future archivist.

But, needless to say my mind then wandered to wonder about first days of school a hundred years ago. And a wonderful example of what I found is Figure 1 from the US National Archives. It shows one room school house, constructed of sod, in 1895 Oklahoma. It is Woods County, Oklahoma Territory to be more exact. Standing in front is the teacher and all the children. The picture is like the cellphone images of today. Yes, someone had to set up a significant camera to take the photograph. Everyone appreciated the freedom of being outside for a few moments. Everyone itched to get on to recess. And quite probably, the photograph was quickly forgotten. But school is where we read our first poem. I remember that so well. It was by Robert Frost. And school was where I first read Shakespeare. It was Julius Caesar.

So we may envy the freshness of experience of the smiling faces of this morning. “oh, the places you’ll go.”

 

Seeing and believing

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Figure 1 – 1937 “Spy” photograph purporting to show Amelia Earhart and her navigator Fred Noonan, in the Marshall Islands after their crash landing. From the US National Archives and in the public domain.

Now almost 180 years after the birth of photography, it remains the case that seeing is believing. Indeed, this simple adage can define the use and abuse of photography, especially in a digital age. This coming Sunday the History Channel will air a new special, “Amelia Earhart: The Lost Evidence.”  Legendary aviator Amelia Earhart disappeared 80 years ago. But, we are told, a newly discovered photograph taken by a “spy” in the Marshall Islands suggests that she survived the ill-fated round-the-world flight only to die at the hands of the Japanese, although the Japanese government has no record of this. The picture is shown here as Figure 1. The photograph shows a woman seated on the dock with her back towards us, sporting Earhart’s signature pants and short-cropped haircut and who resembles Earhart, and a man facing the camera appears to be her navigator, Fred Noonan. If all this is true, then we’ve solved one mystery only to create 100 more.

I am looking forward to the show; so I won’t opine on the subject, except to comment on its symbolism in terms of the meaning of a photograph. Photographic evidence is eclipsed only, perhaps, by modern day DNA forensics. Seeing remains dominant to believing. And the limits of belief lie buried in the optics and grains, which define photographic resolution. Resolution is an ultimate limit to the eye. We can see it, or we cannot. It is a lot like the Heisenberg uncertainty theorem in quantum mechanics and its close-relative impressionist pointillism. Ultimately grains, pixels, and lens resolution set limits on human certainty.

What are we to do?

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The TSA and the airlines seem to be moving towards banning electronic devices on airplanes coming into the the United States. I have to ask, what are we to do? Strap yourself into your seat-belt in, say Amsterdam, and consider the problem of facing six to eight hours of mind numbing time spent listening to the roar of the engines or better still watching last years’ movies on a screen that’s about a foot from your face – a space also occupied by your knees. They’re already charging for “extra legroom.” Can paying for the movie [again] be far behind? You’re already paying for the internet. But now you can’t, because no computer. Oh and the Captain just announced that we are forty-fifth in line to take off. Do I exaggerate?

One option is to read a book. That’s carbon! Ixnay on the indlekay! One piece of good news is that without my laptop I don’t have to spend my time rejecting spammer comments on this blog. By the way, it’s the Russians. I know that because the IP addresses are from Russia and, get this, the comments are in Russian. Yes, Mr. President, it’s the Russians. But I digress.

Getting back to the runway in Amsterdam. Back in the 15th century Amsterdam was the center for Flemish art. And it is in Flemish art that photographer Nina Katchadourian may have found the solution to the laptopless traveler’s dilemma. Head into the  restroom, use the materials at hand such as paper towels, and take selfies of yourself dressed as subjects in a Flemish portrait. Ms. Katchadourian has amassed an impressive portfolio of images called “Seat Assignment.” The project began spontaneously in 2010 and now consists of nearly 2500 photographs and videos, made on nearly 200 different flights. That’s a lot of frequent flyer miles.

I recommend highly that you do two things. First, check out “Seat Assignment.” Second, try it out for yourself before the airlines start charging for trips to the restroom and by the paper towel.

Three photographs of Katherine Cornell

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Figure 1 – Arnold Genthe (1869-1942)/LOC agc.7a15817. Miss Katharine Cornell with dog, 1917. From the USLOC, from the Wikipedia and in the public domain.

While researching yesterday’s blog, I started “reading up” on Katherine Cornell (1893-1974), who made Elizabeth in “The Barretts of Wimpole Street” her signature role. First of all, I have to say that my mother was a great fan of Katherine Cornell, who was widely acclaimed as the “First Lady of the Theater.” A striking beauty in her day, it is not surprising that she was photographed by some of the very greatest photographers of the first half of the twentieth century.

We can begin with Figure 1, a portrait by Arnold Genthe (1869-1942) take on December 31, 1917.  It is so quintessentially Genthe. A soft focused figure appears as if out of the shadows in a chiaroscuro style. It was the height of photopictorialism, and the photograph speaks to classical roots in nineteenth century portraiture.When I first saw the image I assumed that she was holding Buzzer the Cat. But in fact, she is holding one of her spaniels. She was famous for her love of dogs. And, of course, Miss Barrett’s cocker spaniel, “Flush,” features prominently in “The Barretts of Wimpole Street.”

The second image is a portrait from 1924 by Edward Steichen (1879-1973). I am afraid that I am going to have to ask you to go to this link to see it. But it is worth the cyber-trip. There are many Steichen portraits of Cornell from this period and this one is such a masterpiece. You can see that it sold at auction at Christie’s for $87,762.  It bears the same style as the Genthe portrait, only it puts Miss Cornell at the center, thus stabilizing the subject and the photograph. The subject has become statuesque, a dancer posing for the photographer. Cornell emerges now, no longer demur, but more vamp, that and her hat are typical of the feminine styles of the 1920’s.

Figure 2 – Carl van Vechten, Katherine Cornell, 1933, from the Wikipedia from the Van Vechten Collection at US Library of Congress and in the public domain.

Finally, we have Figure 2 a portrait of Cornell by portraitist and writer Carl van Vechten (1880-1964) from 1933. The lighting again is very similar, although the background is light, and the flowers are overwhelmingly translucent. Note how the flowers in the foreground brightly contrast and complement the dark wallpaper flowers in the background. They also preserve the “rule of thirds,” Still there is something disturbing here, a fear, and ingeniously the flowers accentuate the foreboding. Something is very, very wrong.

All three artists have chosen to portray Cornell in a similar light. It is the same persona dramatically transformed by the sixteen years that take us from Genthe to Steichen to van Vechten.

“I was nervous from the very beginning, and it got worse as the years went on. I was conscientious and wanted to do more, always, than I was able. I don’t think, when I was playing, that I was ever happy – beginning at 4 o’clock any afternoon.”

Katherine Cornell

 

How do I love thee

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Figure 1 – Robert Browning c 1888, Woodbury print by,Herbert Rose Barraud (1845 – ca.1896) – Bonhams, feom the Wikipedia and in the publlic domain in the United States because of its age.

My last blog really begs the question of photographs of Elizabeth Barrett (1806-1861) and Robert Browning (1812-1889). Theirs ranks as one of the great love stories of all time: up there with Pyramus and Thisbe, Romeo and Juliet, and Abelard and Heloise – although with a much happier ending.Their love story was immortalized by the play “The Barretts of Wimpole Street” made famous by actress Katherine Cornell (1893-1874) as Elizabeth. Elizabeth was one of the most recognized Victorian poets. Indeed, with the death of Wadsworth, she was strongly considered to become Poet Laureate. Tennyson was chosen instead. 

Elizabeth had chronically poor health and in the end likely suffered from tuberculosis. She was introduced to Robert, six years her junior, on May 20, 1845 and what began as an intellectual relationship soon became romantic. Barrett’s father had decreed that he would disown his children if they married. This odd resolve is by some believed to result from his belief that they were disgracefully of mulatto blood, and that the family line should be ended. As a result, their courtship and marriage were carried out clandestinely. They were married secretly and moved to Italy in 1846, where they lived for much of the remainder of her life. Her father was true to his promise and disowned Elizabeth. Most significantly to posterity, Robert Browning insisted that Elizabeth publish her love sonnets, which became entitled Sonnets from the Portuguese.(1850) and it is for these that she is best remembered.

I will admit to two literary pilgrimages. The first was when in college I found my way to the former Barrett home on Wimpole Street. The second was to the Browning home in Florence, The Palazzo Guidi.

Robert Browning was extremely handsome and stately throughout his life as is well illustrated by Figure 1. It is a Woodbury print by Herbert Rose Barraud (1845 – c1896). We see the quintessential Victorian gentleman.

Photographs of Elizabeth Barrett Browning are scarcer and she seems inevitably to bear the pallor of chronic illness. One of the more famous is shown below in Figure 2. It shows Elizabeth in 1860, a year of her death with son Pen. As a touching image of mother and child this conjures up many of the nineteenth century photographs that we have spoken of previously – silent moments captured in time, speaking in a whisper across time. But the point here is that knowledge of the sitter gives the photograph a voluminous voice. We know that women’s voice, we know her mind. She has spoken to us in volumes, and the photograph gives her even greater life. In the photograph we can just make out Elizabeth’s hands, tenderly clasping those of her son. If you follow the link to the The Palazzo Guidi you will find a photograph of a bronze casting of Robert’s and Elizabeth’s clasped hands. The image of Figure !, despite being over 150 years old is full of life. Those are the hands that penned:

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of being and ideal grace.
I love thee to the level of every day’s
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints. I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.
 
Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Sonnets from the Portuguese #43, How do I love Thee

 

Figure 1 – Photograph of Elizabeth Barrett Browning with her son Pen (Robert Wiedemann Barrett Browning), photographer unknown, 1860. From the Wikipedia and in the public domain in the United States because of its age.

Focus on what you love

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Figure 1 – Robert Kennedy addressing a crowd on June 14, 1963, from Wikipedia, from the US Library of Congress. It is part of a collection donated to the Library of Congress. Per the deed of gift, U.S. News & World Report dedicated to the public all rights it held for the photographs in this collection upon its donation to the Library, as a result it is in the public domain in the US.

I suspect that most of you have seen the new IPhone commercial entitled “The City.” It is designed to highlight the new portrait mode on the IPhone 7 and features a young man photographing his girlfriend in a crowded city. He only has eyes for her and by using the portrait mode, which employs a relatively low f-number, i.e. shallow depth-of-field, to maximize focus on the face while throwing the background out-of-focus. In the commercial, the crowd literally disappears.

This is a well-known trick of photographic portraiture. It typically serves not just to highlight the subject but also to create a visually pleasing bokeh around it.  But it got me thinking of the problem of highlighting a person in a crowd more generally – case in point the image of Figure 1 showing Robert Kennedy, the Attorney General of the United States, addressing a crowd on June 14, 1963 outside the Justice Department. The focus trick is used here, but barely, because all the people are relatively distant from the photographer.

But there are other mechanisms at work. First, the golden rule of thirds places RFK at a visual nexus. He is elevated above the crowd, but interestingly is not the highest person in the photograph. Indeed, the young man on the pedestal above Kennedy holds a sign indicating exactly what Kennedy’s speech is about. Additionally, all eyes, all cameras, and all microphones are riveted on Kennedy.

This is really a well-crafted image. The subject is not isolated from the crowd around him. Rather the crowd demonstrates his dominance in both moment and place. The image is intensely dynamic.