Passover circa 1960

Figure 1 – Passover with my grandparents, circa 1960. (c) DE Wolf 2017.

This year we have one of those rare holiday confluences, where Easter and Passover fall in historic synch. So let me begin by wishing all of my Christian friends and readers a Happy Easter and all my Jewish friends and readers a Happy Passover, Hag Sameah. And let me share in this time when the world is run by fools, the sentiment of all my friends, “To all of you the blessings of family and peace.” As a scientist I can assure you that the ability of men to due evil is surpassed only by our ability to do good.

This morning I was sorting through old papers. I have always regretted how few photographs I saved. I always wish that I had saved more. So I was delighted this morning to find this photograph of my grandfather, Louis, and my grandmother, Mary, taken at their Passover Seder over half a century ago. The picture was probably taken around 1960 and it was either taken by me, using a curiously tan Kodak Brownie, which was my first camera or by my father using his twin-lens Ciroflex. I have very lovingly scanned and restored this image as I have precious few photographs particularly of my grandfather. Nice three-piece, Zaide!

We have spoken many times about the magic way that subjects stare back at us from old photographs. We relate to them and we should always remember that the initial life of the photograph was one of fond recognition. It is when that recognition fades that the role of the photograph becomes one of undefined anonymity and historical record. Just as Shakespeare promised eternal life to his beloved in Sonnet 18 “So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,  So long lives this, and this gives life to thee,” I am hopeful that as long as this blog is cached somewhere on the internet and at some level my grandparents will be remembered, as I remember them.

Yesterday my wife, a friend, and I were talking about the Ashkenazi specialty called “flanken,” a kind of stewed beef. It was one of my mother’s specialties, and I am wondering what grandma Mary was serving for that particular Seder. You can see in the lower right that it was beef. I can still smell and taste it. For my grandparents I wish to say:

 מַה-טֹּבוּ אֹהָלֶיךָ, יַעֲקֹב; מִשְׁכְּנֹתֶיךָ, יִשְׂרָאֵל

How goodly are thy tents, O Jacob, thy dwellings, O Israel!

Numbers 24:5

Technological dreams

Figure 1 – British Post Office engineers inspect Marconi’s radio equipment during demonstration on Flat Holm Island, 13 May 1897. The transmitter is at center, the coherer receiver below it, the pole supporting the wire antenna is visible at top. From the Wikipedia and in the public domain in the United States

Yesterday’s post of German soldiers in World War I spooling out telephone wire is a bit comic. But it is  comic much in the same way that Jules Verne stories or early science fiction movies where prosaic and comic. But on a much more serious note they indicate humans’ drive and belief that technology holds the answer and the key. That is the dream in the case of yesterdays’ image that we could have telephones without wires, that we could communicate across the ocean without having to lay down underwater cables, that we could broadcast music or even video across the oceans, or that we would have digital film-free camera with images ready to transmit across a paperless worldwide web.

All of this is , of course, exactly what we saw, And how rapidly it all evolved and unfolded. What are our dreams today? Wireless charging, interplanetary even interstellar space travel. Do we dare to dream of time travel or teleportation?  While we must be cautious about our dreams, while we must concede to physical law and limits, it is so much fun to exercise our imaginations to dream and to imagine. I am reminded of the time traveler in HG Wells’ “The Time Machine,” who is driven to dream of the end of the end of the world.

‘A horror of this great darkness came on me. The cold, that smote to my marrow, and the pain I felt in breathing, overcame me. I shivered, and a deadly nausea seized me. Then like a red-hot bow in the sky appeared the edge of the sun. I got off the machine to recover myself. I felt giddy and incapable of facing the return journey. As I stood sick and confused I saw again the moving thing upon the shoal—there was no mistake now that it was a moving thing—against the red water of the sea. It was a round thing, the size of a football perhaps, or, it may be, bigger, and tentacles trailed down from it; it seemed black against the weltering blood-red water, and it was hopping fitfully about. Then I felt I was fainting. But a terrible dread of lying helpless in that remote and awful twilight sustained me while I clambered upon the saddle.’

And there is also a curious bifurcation. We do not always dream within the confines of technological reality. Sometimes it works the other way, where we dream and dream becomes reality.So we should not be too quick to draw lines.

So as a photograph to illustrate this wonderful story I have chosen Figure 1. On 13 May 1897, Guglielmo Marconi sent the world’s first wireless communication over open sea. The experiment involved transmission from Flat Holm in Wales transversed over the Bristol Channel to Lavernock Point in Penarth, a distance of 6 kilometers (3.7 mi). The message sent was appropriate then, and still appropriate for us dreamers today. It said simply:

Are you ready?”

The grim visage

Figure 1 -Daguerreotype of Nathaniel Hawthorne by John Adams Whipple, Boston. (Peabody Essex Museum) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

It is a curious point that when we look at an old daguerreotype we get the impression that the people are glum. I have always assumed that this does not reflect that fact that the people of that age were particularly dour. More likely they took the process and act of photography more seriously than we do. Such was the requisite way to portray oneself. In addition the long exposure – and certainly the price you were paying for your portrait made you take seriously the photographers approbation to hold still. Worse, you were subject to the contrivance of a chair that held your head in place. Children were particularly pained by this. Rigidity is the opposite of childhood, and these little people decked out in their Sunday best seem as rigid as dolls – designed to portray not children but mini-adults. The only children that seem relaxed lie in the disturbing postmortem photographs.

It all makes one wonder how the people of the daguerreotype era themselves viewed these images in amalgam. An excellent hint is given by Nathaniel Hawthorne’s contemporary account in his story “The House of Seven Gables,” which by the way still stands and is a gorgeous museum to the author in Salem, MA. Daguerreotypes feature strong in this story.

 “If you would permit me,” said the artist, looking at Phoebe, “I should like to try whether the daguerreotype can bring out disagreeable traits on a perfectly amiable face. But there certainly is truth in what you have said. Most of my likenesses do look unamiable; but the very sufficient reason, I fancy, is because the originals are so. There is a wonderful insight in Heaven’s broad and simple sunshine. While we give it credit only for depicting the merest surface, it actually brings out the secret character with a truth that no painter would ever venture upon, even could he detect it. There is, at least, no flattery in my humble line of art. Now, here is a likeness which I have taken over and over again, and still with no better result. Yet the original wears, to common eyes, a very different expression. It would gratify me to have your judgment on this character.

There is the magic of photography again. You can hide the darker regions of your soul and disposition behind a disingenuous small. But the photograph, the daguerreotype penetrates. It reveals your true character. Like Anubis it weighs the value of your heart.

Imagining the unseen before it is seen

Hmm! Imagining the unseen before it is seen. Now, that sounds profound. But if you take the phrase apart you soon realize that if something hasn’t been see yet, but will be, you can imagine it. Yesterday afternoon, I watched the NASA press conference announcing the presence of seven Earth-like planets in orbit around the same star, and it struck me that if there ever was a moment to leave the imagine blank, to let the imagination run wild, this was it.

One of the scientists commented that this is only the beginning, or more accurately, a moment along the way, and instant in an amazing journey. At some point we will see, and we will photograph unseen words – worlds presently only imagined. One of the other scientists pointed out and explained just how hard it would be to go there and find out, to take such pictures. And those two comments only sent my mind in “hyper-drive.” Imagining is what we do. Doing is what we do. And nothing stirs the scientist’s cerebral juices quite like saying something is hard. ,

Just as we relate to those faces frozen in Daguerreotype amalgam, so do we reverse roles and stare forward to those of the future who will make those journeys. Just as we recognize the contributions that the denizens of the nineteenth century made to our lives; so too will we be remembered.

So I hope that your will excuse me two things today. First, for being overwrought in my philosophy and enthusiasm. And second, for not posting an image, because, when that unseen becomes seen, it will be greater than all of our imaginings. 

The telephone as germ vector

Figure 1 – Alexander Graham Bell in New York City calling Chicago in 1882. From the Wikipedia, originally from the US LOC and in the public domain because of its age.

I received an advertisement/invitation from my alma mater the other day, suggesting that I might want to join a tour of Eastern Europe. There, I was promised, I could sit once more in a telephone booth.  This was touted as the ultimate retro experiment. But it got me wondering why the payphone was something worth reliving. When I grew up these were everywhere around NYC and most of them didn’t work. Worse, most of them first took your money and then didn’t work. But the most unappealing aspect of the pay phone or telephone booth was the stench of tobacco, body odor, and the proliferation of germs. It was the key target of enterprising young reporters investigative reports, who had their sights on the legacy of Nellie Bly and who would have them swabbed and the swabs cultured to reveal a plethora of bacterial species, many only to be found, well how shall I put this, in your nether regions. Same is true of support bars and straps in subway trains. It is best to assume a self-protective disposition.

But the point that I am making is a simple one. There’s a reason that they call it progress. And this is a significant one. Cellphones are a lot cleaner than payphones ever were. It’s a matter of preserving the species. 

So I went in search of a decent copyright-free payphone image, and this to no avail. There were of course all sorts of tardis images for “Dr. Who” aficionados. There were also a few images of 1940’s and 1950’s  pinup-girls sitting in phone booths and a very famous portrait of the Beetles. . But not what I was looking for. So I have chosen instead to go with the image of Figure 1, which shows Alexander Graham Bell himself making the first call from NYC to Chicago in 1881.  There is also I pretty cool recording of Bell experimenting with the telephone from 1885.  As we have discuss in the past everyone one of these communications advances: the telegraph, the telephone, radio, television, represented in its own right an internet. The Lily Tomlin character of the condescending telephone operator, Ernestine, with her plug in network comes to mind as the poster child for the brave new world of internets. “Is this the party with whom I am speaking?

So I am thinking that I should pay a bit more attention to payphones and antique phones as I encounter them. Evern the “princess phone,” once such a strylistic advance is now an antique. Perhaps a few retrospective and nostalgic photographs are in order, even if they werre disgusting or is it “grody to the max?

Dreamers in amalgam

Figure 1 - Daguerreotype by C. Evans of a girl with her doll and holding her mother's hand. From the Wikimedia Commons and the George Eastman House (online), no known copyrights.

Figure 1 – Daguerreotype by C. Evans of a girl with her doll and holding her mother’s hand. From the Wikimedia Commons and the George Eastman House (online), no known copyrights.

I have spoken a great deal about captured moments of the past and how photography gives a sort of immortality preserved in emulsion. There is however, another side to all of this – no more so than when we look at daguerreotypes. The viewing of daguerreotypes evokes a complex set of emotions, and these speak in a profound way to the meaning of photography.

Part of this is that the people are frozen, often awkwardly, in time. They were made to sit in specially built chairs as they endured long exposures.  Often, they do not look comfortable in their clothing. And it is rare, given the formalities of the day, to see even the slightest smile. It is a strange feeling to look at a daguerreotype of a young man or woman in his/her prime. You invariably start to wonder about their lives and become just a bit teary-eyed that whatever there was of hope, expectation, and happiness is turned to dust and corruption. I have the same feeling when I look at the portrait of my grandmother when she was 24 that hangs in my study. My mind has trouble equating that image with that of the wrinkled old lady that I took almost six decades later. “Time doth transfix the flourish set on youth.”

Daguerreotypes can get especially maudlin, when it comes to post mortem photographs of children, laid out for one last, or more often the only, photograph. They are often in the arms of a grim and saddened parent. Your heart just breaks at such images, even though they break our modern denying conventions about death. The nineteenth century was a tough time to live or to survive as a child – so many deadly childhood diseases. But these people endured – they had no other choice.

Some of the most striking of daguerreotypist portrait subjects was that of Figure1 – the child with a toy. And I have chosen a girl with her doll(y), because a little girl holding a dolly really mimicked a mother with her child, and the mother is often in the same photograph. Indeed, here the girl is holding her mother’s hand – a connection both to her present childhood and future adulthood. The nineteenth century was not a great time to be a child. It was full of dreaded diseases and strict rules of orthodoxy. Time was short, and clothes clearly uncomfortable.  Here we look at the upper and middle class children. The plight of the lower classes, Jacob Riis’ children was grimmer beyond comprehension.

These little children seem to cry out to us. The fleeting journey of the daguerreotype subject from youth to old age in our imaginations is here magnified. We have in addition the very fleeting journey to adulthood, after which you must “put aside childish things.” There little lives were filled with hopes, dreams, and expectations. “Though [these] dreams… lost some grandeur coming true.” Therein lies the profound power of the photograph. They evoke immense empathy within. We relate to, indeed become, these little children.

Such were my thoughts this morning as I drove through historic Concord, Massachusetts. I passed first what is referred to as “The Old Burial Ground.” This is the last resting place of so many souls who predated photography. Then I passed the “Sleepy Hollow Cemetery” with its famous “Authors’ Ridge,” where the great literati of Concord’s past lie in repose, Branson and Louisa May Alcott, Ralph Waldo Emerson, and Henry David Thoreau. Daniel Chester French, the sculptor of the famous statue of Abraham Lincoln in the Lincoln Monument, lies on a separate ridge not far from his magnificent monument to brothers who died in the American Civil War, the  “Melvin Memorial.”  A daguerreotype of any of these is immediately recognized. But at Sleepy Hollow they are surrounded by the many faces of unidentified daguerreotypes. These are the dreamers captured in amalgam.

In defense of photography

Figure 1 - Thadeus Lowe ascending in the Intrepid to observe the battle of Fair Oaks (VA), May 31, 1862. From the US LOC and in the public domain.

Figure 1 – Thadeus Lowe ascending in the Intrepid to observe the Battle of Fair Oaks (VA), May 31, 1862. From the US LOC and in the public domain.

It was a surreal weekend here in the United States as White House Press Secretary, Sean Spicer and the White House declaring the fact that there is no way to accurately estimate crowds from photographs, and the fact that the crowds at the Trump Inauguration were the biggest ever.

“This was the largest audience to ever witness an inauguration — period — both in person and around the globe.”

As he stormed out, one reporter did ask how he knew this, if there was no way to measure it? 

But this fact/alternative fact universe is not my subject here. What I am here concerned about is that the validity of photography or more accurately of photometry has been threatened. Photography, already under threat because of the incipient demise of film, has been challenged! Someone must come to its defense.

So can you estimate crowd size from photographs? The answer is yes, absolutely, of course you can. Indeed, we have been using such aerial reconnaissance since the American Civil war to estimate troop concentrations. And the key point, or the key word here, is estimate.  Any such estimation is just that an estimate. It offers a level of uncertainty. The more controlled the measurement the more certain of the number you are. Meaning equivalent camera position … In the olden days, we scientists used to do numerical integration by taking pictures and then weighing the filled parts and the unfilled parts. There is nothing genius there. To get to an absolute number, not just which is bigger [now termed “more bigly”], you need to perform some kind of calibration, you know like have a bunch of people stand on a lawn. And with such crowd estimation the information can be “backed up” with, for instance, subway ridership.

And back to the “which is bigger” question, I refer you to the New York Times [now referred to as the Evil Empire].  I mean, people, it’s obvious. You can trust both the photograph and your eyes. And more importantly, in the present case particularly, who really cares? It’s not important! It’s like worrying about the size of someone’s hands or other body parts.

Where the subject gets really interesting is when you ask the arguably more interesting question whether there is a better way. And the answer to that is, probably yes. It takes us, once again, into the world of the singularity. A recent scientific paper in the Open Journal of the Royal Society demonstrates that crowd size can be estimated pretty accurately by monitoring cell phone activity. While it may introduce an economic bias towards people with smart phones, it is a more accurate approach than simple photometry. And, needless-to-say, the best way to achieve an accurate estimate is to use multiple techniques simultaneously. If your goal is to get an accurate measurement it can be done. Somehow, I suspect that accuracy is not the issue here. No matter how accurate, you can always deny it and weave (Oh no! I’m going to say it.) an alternative truth.*

It strikes me that we have a curious tautology here. An “alternative truth” is, in fact, a lie. But an “alternative lie” is still a lie.

Our cyber others

Figure 1 - The cyber other in its infancy. ENIAC (Electronic Numerical Integrator And Computer) in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Glen Beck (background) and Betty Snyder (foreground) program the ENIAC in building 328 at the Ballistic Research Laboratory (BRL). From the Wikipedia and in the public domain because image was taken by a US Government employee in an official capacity.

Figure 1 – The cyber other in its infancy. ENIAC (Electronic Numerical Integrator And Computer) in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Glen Beck (background) and Betty Snyder (foreground) program the ENIAC in building 328 at the Ballistic Research Laboratory (BRL). From the Wikipedia and in the public domain because image was taken by a US Government employee in an official capacity.

Today I want to talk about “Our cyber others.” I mean Others fully in the context of that Nicole Kidman 2001 masterpiece “The Others,” which in and of itself has a wonderful theme of postmortem photography. Well it is a little more than that.

I like to rummage around antique shots looking through old photographs in search of something more than the mundane, which is rare but sometimes out there.  I might find an old and mediocre black and white photograph, perhaps with serrated edges, labeled Thanksgiving 1955, and we may imagine the story. There is papa in his very narrow tie, mamma in a Mamie Eisenhower hat and white gloves, little Jack in stiff wool pants with his hair slicked back a crusty mass, impervious to wind, and little Jane in glasses, a pleated skirt, and bobby socks, not realizing it at the time but wishing that she was in jeans. Their goal was to act and pose out a Norman Rockwell Thanksgiving.  I look at the back of the photograph. There are no names, only anonymity.  So we are going to have to refer to them as the “Unknowns.” They are almost forgotten to posterity, except for this little silver emulsion.

If their names were written on the back, you might be able to unearth a little about them from the web. But usually this is precious little, if any, information, unless of course they were “famous.”

Last night after a wonderful family dinner with family and friends, I dutifully uploaded photographs of the event to social media. Then I tagged everyone, which has the magical effect of connecting you to a whole other universe of friends of friends. It got me thinking about this huge cyber other that we have created on our road to the singularity.

We are not yet machines or one with machines. However, we have created an alternative world, where we dwell as disembodied electrons. By-the-way, do you know where your images are stored. “On the cloud,” you say. Where and what is the cloud? In the case of my Thanksgiving photographs, uploaded to Facebook, the images are apparently stored in Facebook’s, Lulea, Sweden data center. Who woulda thunk it? This is  cool place where locally generated hydroelectric power supplies the data center, chilly air cools it, and extra heat generated by “the servers” is used to heat the building.  The significant point is that while we may call it “The Cloud,” thus invoking a seeming mystic less than numinous diety, there must in fact be a tangible place where our data sits, allowing, of course, for multiple places.

Our sense of the internet as “Other” is palpable. Its otherness lies not in lack of place but more in the way that everyone is connected to it, so as to create an alter ego universe, and in the way that our images are stored. It is currently estimated that 2.1 billion humans or 43% of the world’s population is connected to the internet, including, unfortunately, our ever-tweeting president elect.

If you look at an old photograph you see and perceive it. It was meant for human eyes and is instantly translated from dots of silver to “image” in our brains. Now, of course, there are a lot of assumptions in the photograph. The most significant one being that it is assumed that you will view it at an appropriate distance so as to perceive correctly its content. View it with a magnifying glass that reveals individual grains of silver and you will have no comprehension of subject.

The cyber other image is different. It is stored as a matrix of bits. A machine must translate it into a format that the human eye-brain can comprehend.  The machine recognizes the file type (e.g. .jpg or .tif) and the machine translates this and sends it to another part of the machine for display. Machine, machine, machine! This is the very point that identifies this as the path to the singularity. This cyber other that we connect so intimately with is stored on machines and require machines to interface us, both to and from. And it all creates the illusion, or delusion, than the “Unknowns” discovered in a cobweb and dust filled antique store were somehow less than us, more anonymous.

New camera – when bigger is better

Figure 1 - The main mirror of the James Webb Space Telescope revealed this past month. NASA/Chris Gunn (public domain).

Figure 1 – The main mirror of the James Webb Space Telescope revealed this past month. NASA/Chris Gunn (public domain).

Good lenses are expensive. But this is ever a matter of perspective; so I thought that I would post today about what might well be one of the biggest and most expensive cameras ever. Try buying the optics of Figure 1 on BHPhotovideo or Amazon!

This past month the next, great, space telescope was revealed. This is the James Webb Space Telescope and is scheduled for launch in October 2018. It has been twenty years and $8.7 B in the making, which are sobering numbers.The telescope is named after NASA James Webb, who led NASA during the glory days of the 1960s. It is the long awaited heir to the Hubble Space Telescope. It’s kind of like being a short person and having a giant child. Figure 1 shows the main optic a 20-foot giameter array of 18 hexagonal mirrors The James Webb Space telescope has seven times the light gathering power of Hubble. That means that it can see much fainter (often translating to more distant) objects. The cost of the new space telescope has consumed much of NASA’s budget. Originally, it was budgeted as costing $500M, but …  A major aspect of the telescope is its ability to take infrared or heat images. To do this it will be placed a million miles from the Earth and it will be equipped with giant umbrella to shield it from sun and moonlight.

Regular readers of this blog know my fondness for discussing captured moments from the past. The James Webb telescope will redefine this concept, when it images events from the origin of the universe, the Big Bang, which occurred 13 billion years ago. It is certainly fun to speak with certainty about scientific discovery, but the really amazing images will not be those we imagine but those we cannot.