Towards visual paths of dignity

Figure 1 - Postcard produced: [ca. 1905] Summary: Translated caption reads: "French Congo. Passage of Mr. Administrator E. In the foreground, two leaders sitting in reclining chairs, in the background, village people and cabins. Congo Français. Photograph by J. Audema. General. In the public domain in the United States because of age.

Figure 1 – Postcard produced: [ca. 1905] Summary: Translated caption reads: “French Congo. Passage of Mr. Administrator E. In the foreground, two leaders sitting in reclining chairs, in the background, village people and cabins. Congo Français. Photograph by J. Audema. General. In the public domain in the United States because of age.

I want to highly recommend a column in The New York Times Lens Blog from January 30, 2014.  This is an article by Jean-Phillipe Dedieu, which describes his collection of postcards and images from the age of European colonialism entitled: “Towards visual paths of human dignity.”  The article speaks to how if you look at a set of images taken at a given period of time, you begin to see their historical context.  This is the way that the photographers subliminally portrayed their subjects.  In this case it is the contrived story of the benevolent white man bringing Christianity and “civilization” to what were viewed as primitive peoples.  I think that Figure 1 is an example of such a post card, which is typical of what we are talking about.  We see the great colonial white overlord and the doting natives.  An absolutely amazing example from Mr. Dedieu’s collection is a 1905 New Year’s postcard from Sierra Leone, where a group of native men stand together each with a letter from the words “BONNE ANNEE,” written on their chests.  This clearly indicates the level of objectivization of native peoples.

I think that a very important point in all of this is that the world changes.  We do not see things as people a hundred years ago do.  We have spoken of the bridge that photography offers across time.  But in a sense this bridge is impassable.  A single image does not convey complete understanding of how people once saw the world.  It is only through observing a massive collection of such images that one can really achieve understanding, or begin to.  Mr. Dedieu amassed his very impressive collection of postcard images over the course of a lifetime.  And in doing so he has performed a truly important task – the task of letting us see how they saw.

There is another point in all of this for those of you who wished that you could collect photographs but are turned off by the high prices.  I am a great proponent of focused collecting – although I hasten to add that I do not collect photographs myself. You might at first consider postcards to be a low level endeavor – a poor cousin of fine art collecting.  But as Jean-Phillipe Dedieu so wonderfully demonstrates, there can be great historic value in such a collection.

 

 

Photographic first #12 – First digital image

Figure 1 - The first digital image made on a computer in 1957 showed researcher Russell Kirsch's baby son.  From NIST and in the public domain.

Figure 1 – The first digital image made on a computer in 1957 showed researcher Russell Kirsch’s baby son.
From NIST and in the public domain.

In researching yesterday’s blog about the first underwater photograph I came across another photographic first, which is shown in Figure 1 and is the first digital image ever taken.  It was taken in 1956 at the then National Bureau of Standards (NBS), today the National Institute of Standards (NIST) by NBS scientist and computer pioneer Russel Kirsch, and is a black and white scan of a photograph of Kirsch’s son, Walden.  Significantly, in 2003  the editors of Life magazine honored Kirsch’s image by naming it one of “the 100 photographs that changed the world.”

Figure 2 - National Bureau of Standards (NBS) researcher R.B. Thomas shown operating the SEAC scanner (the control console is in the background). From NIST and in the public domain.

Figure 2 – National Bureau of Standards (NBS) researcher R.B. Thomas shown operating the SEAC scanner (the control console is in the background). From NIST and in the public domain.

By today’s standards it is a mere 176 pixels on a side.  Kirsch and his colleagues developed the nation’s first programmable computer, the Standards Eastern Automatic Computer (SEAC) and additionally created a rotating drum scanner for image scanner.  NBS researcher R.B. Thompson is shown at the extensive controls of the scanner in Figure 2.  Before you read any further take a look at your digital camera.  It contains a miniature microprocessor which is more powerful than the 1956 NBS computer used to control the scanner and for the image processing.  This room size NBS computer is shown in Figure 3.

It truly gives one pause.  Last year I discussed the first photograph ever put up on the internet.  Amazingly, this was in 1992 almost forty years after this first digital photographic image. Kirsch’s image and the work of him and his colleagues is truly a tribute to geek power and inventiveness.  It gives you a glimpse of why I love going into the lab every day.  There is nothing better than sitting down with one’s colleagues and figuring out how to do the impossible. It is truly life’s greatest privilege!

Figure 3 - The room-sized Standards Eastern Automatic Computer (SEAC) was used to create the first scanned image.  From the NIST and in the public domain.

Figure 3 – The room-sized Standards Eastern Automatic Computer (SEAC) was used to create the first scanned image. From the NIST and in the public domain.

First underwater photograph

Figure 1 - First underwater photograph taken on a wet colloidion plate in 1856 by William Thompson.  In the puclic domain by virtue of its age.

Figure 1 – First underwater photograph taken on a wet colloidion plate in 1856 by William Thompson. In the public domain by virtue of its age.

Our recent discussion of Zena Holloway’s underwater fashion photography got me wondering about what the very first underwater photographs were.  As you might expect these entailed a major tour de force on the part of the photographer.  The first underwater photograph was taken by William Thompson in Dorset in the UK in 1856.

Thompson had a carpenter make him a waterproof, wooden box inside of which could be plaved a 4″ x 5″, wet colloidion  glass plate camera.  You will see the problem immediately.  This required a darkroom tent on shore to prepare and develop the plates all within the space of an hour.  The box had a heavily weighted shutter to which Thompson attached a string to activate the shutter from a row boat.

Along with a friend Thompson rowed out into Weymouth Bay and then lowered his camera until its tripod settled securely on a rock ledge.  This was about eighteen feet below the surface.  His exposures were about ten minutes long.  I include as Figure 1 this first underwater photograph.  One of the most appealing aspects, to me, about this photograph is that I have no idea what I am looking at.  Hopefully, it was clearer in 1856 when the picture was taken.

What you will more often see listed as the world’s first underwater photograph is the image by French zoologist Louis Boutan taken in 1893.  This image is shown as Figure 2.  It was a first both in terms of being the first underwater photograph, where both the camera and the photographer were underwater, and because it was taken with a magnesium powder flash.  Also it was the first published underwater photograph.

Figure 1 - Louis Boutan's underwater image taken with magnesium flash in 1893.  In the public domain because of its age.

Figure 1 – Louis Boutan’s underwater image taken with magnesium flash in 1893. In the public domain because of its age.

The street photographers of Afghanistan

Figure 1 - An Afghan Street Photographer in 2001.  From the Wikipedia Commons, picture by User bluuurgh and in placed in the public domain by the photographer under creative commons license.

Figure 1 – An Afghan Street Photographer in 2001. From the Wikipedia Commons, picture by User bluuurgh and in placed in the public domain by the photographer under creative commons license.

There was a time when you could walk down the street and photographers with large box cameras would offer to take your photograph. This was most prevalent at heavily trafficked tourist sites.  And I guess that the modern equivalent is going to an amusement park like Disney World and getting your family’s picture snapped as you plummet terrified in the dark confines of a roller coaster ride. But in most, probably all, places on Earth the large box camera is yielding to the digital world and a rapidly vanishing anachronism.

Afghanistan is one of the few places on Earth where these street photographers remaining – even there we must ask for how long.  The Afghan street photographers use a simple type of instant camera, which they call a kamra-e-faoree.  What is most fascinating is that these hand-built contractions serve as both camera and darkroom.  After taking your picture the photographer places a black cloth over the camera, opens a side door, and develops the image.  One of these Afghan photographer is shown in Figure 1.

It is all really fascinating. And it is the aim of the Afghan Box Camera Project  to create a lasting record of the methods and the work of these dedicated photographers.  On the Afghan Box Camera website you can find instructions on building and  using a kamra-e-faoree, as well as background on the history of Afghan street photographer, and most significantly extensive examples of the work of these street photographers.  If you think that large format photography is difficult to practice when you have all the advantages of modern cameras and materials visit this site.

John Dillwyn Llewelyn, the photographer of Penllergare

 

Figure 1 - John Dillwyn Llewelyn, Theresa, John, and Willie at Caswell, 1853, from the Wikimedia Copmmons and in the public domain.

Figure 1 – John Dillwyn Llewelyn, Theresa, John, and Willie at Caswell, 1853, from the Wikimedia Copmmons and in the public domain.

Last week I was reading about a man in Wales, who was cleaning out his garage in 1973 and came upon a box of old daguerreotypes. His brother-in-law sought the advice of Noel Chanan, a photographer and filmmaker.  The rest, as they say, is history.  The box contained upwards of forty family images by the great-great grandfather of the man, John Dillwyn Llewelyn (1810-1882).  Llewelyn was a British amateur scientist and photographer.  He was married to a cousin of Henry Fox Talbot.

Llewelyn’s earliest attempts at photography were not, in his opinion, all that successful.  He experimented both with Talbot’s process and with daugerreotypes.  After a few years he abandoned photography, but picked it up again in the 1850′ s by which time the processes had advanced considerably.  He invented what he called the “oxymel process,” which combined honey and vinegar to produce a dry plate.  This was important because the wet colloidal process, then in use, was cumbersome in that it required the photographer to immediately develop his/her negatives.  With the “oxymel process” the glass negative could be held for a few days before developing.  He is also credited with the invention of an instantaneous shutter – enabling for instance the photgraphs of breaking waves and moving water.

Many of Llewellyn’s photographs can be seen on Noel Chanan’s website.  He has also recently released a biography of John Dillwyn Llewelyn, “The Photographer of Penllergare,” which is available through the website.

Figure 1 is an excellent example of Llewellyn’s work. It shows his family (Theresa, John, and Willie at Caswell in 1853).  This is precisely the kind of intimate glimpse of nineteenth century life that we have been talking about.  There is a sharp freshness to the scene, and we almost imagine that we are there with them.  They do not stare back at us, but rather appear to be involved with each other.  They seem however, as I have suggested before, not oblivious to us, but rather seem to know that we are out there (here).

Both the book and Mr. Chanan’s website are filled with this kind of familial image. But there are other outstanding gems as well.  I particularly like “The Stag, 1856,” which appeals to a sense of English mythology and was taken using a taxidermy specimen because a real stag could not be counted upon to stand still long enough for proper composition and exposure.  I also think that “St. Catherine’s Island, Tenby, 1854″  is as fine a piece of landscape photography as I have ever seen.  As is always the case we can learn a lot from these early photographic pioneers.  Their compositions a classical sense of what a picture should be.

 

Images of the first winter Olympics

Figure 1 - Gold medal figure skater Gillis Grafström at the 1924 winter games in Chamonix, FR.  Image from the Wikimedia Commons uploaded by Scanpix, photographer unknown, in the public domain.

Figure 1 – Gold medal figure skater Gillis Grafström at the 1924 winter games in Chamonix, FR. Image from the Wikimedia Commons uploaded by Scanpix, photographer unknown, in the public domain.

A link containing some wonderful photographs from the first winter Olympics in Chamonix, France was brought to my attention by reader and friend, Wendy.  I just couldn’t resisted reposting them along with Figure 1, which shows three time gold medalist in men’s figure skating, Gillis Grafström, of Sweden, in Chamonix in 1924.

About 250 athletes participated in the 1924 winter Olympics and there were 16 events including: alpine and cross-country skiing, figure skating, ice hockey, Nordic combined, ski jumping, and speed skating. The winter games were held regularly every four years until 1936.  The 1940 games were awarded to Saporo, Japan but this was cancelled with the Japanese invasion of China.  The Winter Olympics resumed in 1948.  They held every four years.  In 1992 it was decided to stagger the winter and summer games by two years.  So the winter games were held in 1992 and then again in 1994, when the four year cycle resumed.

Pictures such as these evoke two feelings, to me at least.  One is a sense of nostalgia and the lost innocence of simplicity.  The games have become multimedia events and very glitzy.  The other sense, and maybe it’s because of what’s going on outside my window right now, is one of how cold everything looks.  But several points are universal, the spirit of youth and the concept of bridging borders through sports.

The Beatles in America

Figure 1 - The Beatles waving to fans on their arrival at JFK Airport in New York City on Feb. 7, 1964.  UPI photograph, photographer unknown, from the LOC via the Wikimediacommons and in the public domain.

Figure 1 – The Beatles waving to fans on their arrival at JFK Airport in New York City on Feb. 7, 1964. UPI photograph, photographer unknown, from the LOC via the Wikimediacommons and in the public domain.

The problem with great moments in history is that soon enough your own lifetime encompasses so many of them, and your brain fills with images and olfactory remembrances.  Well, fifty years ago today on February 7, 1964 the Beatles arrived in America.  It was as much as any one cultural event, a truly defining moment.  We were moving rapidly from the age of the by then murdered John F. Kennedy to the age of Lyndon B. Johnson and Richard M. Nixon.  The early sixties were one world the ten years from say 1964 to 1974 quite another.  To my mind what we now refer to as “the sixties” really spanned that shifted decade, and the Beatles arrival was one place marker of its beginning.  Anyway, I remember it all too well!

Figure 1 shows the Beatles arriving at JFK airport in New York and waving to fans.  It is from the archives of the Library of Congress and was taken by an unknown UPI photographer. More significantly, I was reading John Estrin’s Lens Blog in the New York Times, which details the career of Bill Eppridge (1938-2013). He is, perhaps, best known for his 1968 image of busboy Juan Romero comforting the mortally wounded Robert F. Kennedy.  At age 26, Eppridge covered the Beatles’ arrival for Life Magazine.   Eppridge recognized the significance of the event and followed the Beatles for the six days of their US tour. He shot an amazing 90 rolls of film.  But with the exception of the four images published by Life these were unknown until this week when Eppridges work will be published by Rizzoli in a new book, “The Beatles: Six Days That Changed the World.”

Of course, there’s nothing like seeing the real thing.  Bill Eppridge’s photographs of the Beatles’ tour will be on exhibit at the Museum at Bethel Woods in Bethel, N.Y., beginning on April 5, and at the Monroe Gallery of Photography in Santa Fe, N.M., starting April 25.

 

The mystery of the mill girl

Figure 1 - Unknown spinner, Lewis Hine, c1908, from the LOC and in the public domain.

Figure 1 – Unknown spinner, Lewis Hine, c1908, from the LOC and in the public domain.

I’d like to start today with the image of Figure 1.  Taken between 1908-1912 it shows a young girl, who at age eleven had already been working for a year in a mill owned by the  Rhodes Manufacturing Company in Lincolnton, North Carolina.  The picture was taken by social reformer and photographer Lewis Hine (1874-1940), who documented mill life and child labor in the mills.  It was one of five thousand photographs taken by Hine for the National Child Labor Committee, documenting abuses of child labor laws in textiles and other industries.  These photographs are now housed as an important social record in the Library of Congress.

Children were prized as laborers in the mills, since their small hands and bodies enabled them to reach inside the intricate machines.  The results were often disastrous.  Hine’s photographs were three decades later instrumental in the establishment of the Federal regulation of child labor began with the 1938 Fair Labor Standards Act, which for the first time set minimum ages of employment and hours of work for children. We can pat ourselves on the back, until we realize that all that has really happened is that child labor of this sort has mere been exported.

The picture itself is compositionally wonderful.  The girl stands gazing out the window, symbolic perhaps of lost childhood.  At any rate there is an outside, but pushing up and ready to devour her are the huge looms.  And these stretch on infinitely in the photograph. The picture not only represents the life of the little girl and her loss of innocence, but also of the greater loss of national innocence brought on by the Industrial Revolution.

For over a century the name of that young girl has remained a mystery, as if industrialism had swallowed up her identity.  She was identified in the picture as only as a “spinner” at the Rhodes Manufacturing Co.

Now, according to the Charlotte Observer, author and historian Joe Manning used the photograph to find her descendants and give her back her name.  He feels confident that the girl was named Lalar Blanton and is the grandmother of Myra “Carol” Cook of Louisville, Ky. Thus, this image has served two powerful purposes: first, as a tool to bring about social change, and second, a hundred years later, to resurrect the life of the subject.  Such is the power of the image.

 

Thomas Wedgwood and the invention of photography in a historical context*

Figure 1 - Photogram by William Henry Fox Talbot  Angličan, 1800-1877 Two Plant Specimens, 1839 Photogenic drawing, stabilized (fixed) in ammonia or potassium bromide 22.1 x 18.0 cm Edward E. Ayer Endowment in memory of Charles L. Hutchinson, 1972.325 From the Wikimedia Commons and in the public domain. Original soutrce  http://www.artic.edu/aic/collections/artwork/38930

Figure 1 – Photogram by William Henry Fox Talbot of  Two Plant Specimens, 1839
Photogenic drawing, stabilized (fixed) in ammonia or potassium bromide. Original source http://www.artic.edu/aic/collections/artwork/38930 Edward E. Ayer Endowment in memory of Charles L. Hutchinson, 1972.325 From the Wikimedia Commons and in the public domain.

When you ponder the history of science or a technology, such as photography, it is very difficult, perhaps ultimately impossible, to be able to truly place yourself back and understand it as it was viewed at the time.  Difficult or not, precious few ideas spring fully born like Athena from the head of Zeus, and we are invariably see the world through the filter of our own times.

To give an example from literature, Hamlet says: “The time is out of joint. O cursèd spite, that ever I was born to set it right!.”  What ever does that mean?  Indeed, in a sense with the evolution of language over the past centuries, Shakespearean English is perhaps 50% understood by modern speakers of the language.  I mean really understood, because the plays address such human situations that we are truly compelled to understand.  But to understand this comment by Hamlet, in fact much of Shakespeare, we must project ourselves back to an Elizabethan world view.  They believed in a static, God created, unchanging world.  Someone might disrupt the divine order with severe consequences.  In this case it was Hamlet’s duty to undo this wrong and disruption of world order by his uncle.  But, and here’s the catch twenty-two, in restructuring world order he would himself evoke change and could never be sure that his change wouldn’t be an equally wrong disruption.  Pretty heavy stuff!  Which is why Shakespeare has Henry V say: “Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.

Even in science this cross time understanding is strained.  Scientist’s speak a language that is specific in an historical context.  Very clearly scientists of today would have a hard, though probably not unbearable time, relating to the literature of a hundred years or more ago.

So back to photography, we can ask the question in what intellectual context did Daguerre and Fox Talbot evolve their discoveries. What was the language of chemistry and photophysics that they spoke?

A key predecessor of these two men was Thomas Wedgwood (1771-1805).  He lived so short a life and his discoveries lie almost forgotten.  He has been credited with being the first person to conceive of writing with light on a surface.  He knew how silver nitrate turned black, when exposed to light, and was the first to capture “negative images” by exposing them to sunlight.  These were photograms, where an opaque object, such as a leaf, was placed upon the paper and it was then exposed to the sun which turned the unprotected regions black.  Figure 1 shows a photogram created forty years later (1839) by Henry Fox Talbot.

The key problem that Wedgwood faced was that he could not figure out how to fix the image; so that it became permanent.  He would take his pictures during the day and then show them to friends under candle light at night.  This problem of fixation remained unsolved for almost the next forty years.

Thomas Wedgewood was also the first person (at least recorded person) to conceive of placing a photsensitive surface inside of a camera obscura and taking a true photograph.  But his photosensitve surfaces were too slow.  But there was the germ of an idea.

During a visit to the Pneumatic Clinic in Bristol for medical treatment, Wedgwood met and befriended Humphry Davy (1778–1829) then a young chemist. In the end it was Davy who published an account of Wedgwood’s work in London’s Journal of the Royal Institution (1802): “An Account of a Method of Copying Paintings upon Glass, and of Making Profiles, by the Agency of Light upon Nitrate of Silver. Invented by T. Wedgwood, Esq.”

Despite the fact that the Royal Institution was at that time somewhat obscure, this paper is believed to have play a seminal role in the subsequent invention of photography.  As we have discussed often in this blog, silver nitrate chemistry has played a key and dominant role in film-based photography both monochrome and color.  But time, science, and industry moves on, as does our understanding.  Men such as Newton, Lavoisier, and Davy evolved (that is always the write word) away from alchemy and into a world where the fundamental mechanisms of these processes became understood.  The electron was discovered.  Electrochemistry became understood. Quantum mechanics and the photoelectric effect were discovered.  All of this represented an ever changing level of understanding and, at each step in the road, a new nomenclature and way of describing.

An outcome of all of this evolution in human understanding is that sold state detector arrays were developed and these have changed photography forever.  They have come to supersede silver nitrate-based photography, in the form of modern digital photography.  And, of course, the question always remains: “What is next?”

* For those who prefer the printed word there is an excellent description of Thomas Wedgwood’s life and contributions to photography in Roger Watson’s and Helen Rappaport’s new book “Capturing the Light.”