The Daguerreotype in England

Abstract

In the October 1978 issue of History of Photography, Pauline F. Heathcote, in an interesting article on Alfred Barber (1809–1884), the first professional photographer in Nottinghaml, has drawn attention to the legal action taken against Barber by Richard Beard in January 1843. She rightly notes that this lawsuit by Beard against Barber has hitherto ‘escaped general documentation in the annals of photographic history, having been overshadowed by his [Heard's] protracted action against John Egerton which lasted from 1845–49’. She has also been able to point to a further two legal actions brought by Beard against Antoine Claudet and against ‘Edwards’, because they were rereported briefly in The Times in July 1841 and November 1842. In addition, Beard also brought two more actions, in 1843 against Edward Holland of Yorkshirc, and against Robert Bake and William Chapplc of Truro, Cornwall.     

Talbot's Rouen window

Abstract

On 16 May 1843, William Henry Fox Talbot, stopping in Rouen en route to Paris to try to market his calotype process, set up his camera in front of the muslin-curtained window of his room in the Hôtel de l'Angleterre (figure 1).¹ Huddled deep in the darkened bedroom, he focused not on the masts of sailing vessels docked outside on the quai du Havre or the new suspension bridge that he was to record in other images, but on the plane of the window itself, with its mullions, balcony grating, curtain rods, and filigree of lace. Knowing full well that the faintly lit walls of his room would be grossly underexposed ifhe tried to capture anything of the bright outside world, Talbot persisted with this enigmatic composition, neither landscape nor still life, study of nature nor genre scene, at best a ‘picturesque imagining’ as he would later describe in The Pencil of Nature.     

Diane Arbus

Abstract

The arrival of paper photography in Scotland is usually seen by photographic historians in terms of an introduction or even a preamble to that great partnership between D. O. Hill and Robert Adamson: a collaboration which lasted only for three or four years, but which left its mark on the future artistic development of photography.¹ This ‘introductory’ period, centring around Fife and particularly St Andrews, was, however, of great importance to the artistic achievement of that later partnership, although it may be seen in more general historical terms, but at the time the protagonists themselves seemed to have been obsessed with scientific and technical detail.     

The diorama in great Britain in the 1820s

Abstract

L. J. M. Daguerre (1787-1851), originally a stage designer and scene painter,¹ in April 1821 formed a partnership with Charles Bouton (1781-1853) to develop a ‘Diorama’ in Paris. As Helmut and Alison Gernsheim have said in their account of the Diorama in L.J.M. Daguerre: The History of the Diorama and the Daguerreotype, it was ‘an ideal collaboration, each gaining much from the other's exoerience’. Bouton was the more exoerienced and distingulshed painter, Daguerre the greater expert in lighting and scenic effects.²     

Daniel Manders Beere

Abstract

Through History of Photography, photoarchivists at the National Photography Collection of the Public Archives of Canada have learned that one of Canada's photographic pioneers was among New Zealand's early photographers of note. An article by William Main entitled, ‘Photographic Reportage of the New Zealand Wars’¹, and subsequent correspondence from John Sullivan², have shed welcome light on the origins and later life of Daniel Manders Beere.     

Between orientalist clichés and images of modernization

Abstract

In contemporary writing about nineteenth-century photography of the Middle East it has become almost a cliche to describe many of these images as ‘Orientalist’-that is, reflecting or propagating a system of representation that creates an essentialized difference between the ‘Orient’ and the ‘West’. Most of these scholars draw on Edward Said's influential book Orientalism, which traces how Europe manufactured an imaginary Orient through literary works and the social sciences.¹ For example, Nissan N. Perez writes in his book Focus East: Early Photography in the Near East (1839–1885) that ‘Literature, painting, and photography fit the real Orient into the imaginary or mental mold existing in the Westerner's mind .... These attitudes are mirrored in many of the photographs taken during this time [the nineteenth century] ... Either staged or carefully selected from a large array of possibilities, they became living visual documents to prove an imaginary reality’. ²     

Oliver Wendell Holmes as an amateur photographer

Abstract

On 6th July 1862, Oliver Wendell Holmes wrote a letter to Coleman Sellers, thanking him for some photographs received and excusing his own negligence in writing. His eldest son, missing in action in Richmond, commanded all his attention, but then Holmes added: ‘If it were not for this war, I should begin getting photographic apparatus tomorrow. If peace ever returns I feel sure I shall try my hand at the art and then I shall be only too happy to send you some of my handiwork in return for the many favors I have received from you’¹. The letter catches Holmes at an interesting point in his life. Always intrigued by photography and well known among his friends as a popularizer of it, he was finally thinking of turning theory into practice.     

‘A merry Christmas,dear, from me.’

Abstract

The photograph, the penny post and the Christmas card made their entrance on the English scene hard on each other's heels, the one in 1839, the next in 1840, and the in 1843. As postal services and printing techniques improved, the Christmas card took its place to the manner born among the cherished traditions of the season. In the early 1860s printing firms began to devote a large part of their attention to the making and designing of cards; the first trickle of greetings exchanged by close friends became a flood, and by January 1880 Punch was complaining of ‘the sleet of Christmas cards’. The novelty had become established. A long article on the history of the cards appeared in the Christmas Supplement of the London Times in 1883, and for some years trom the late 1870s it was usual for the major newspapers and journals to publish a review of each crop of new designs. Competition was fierce, and manufacturers were prepared to try any motif that came to hand, Irom reproductions of the Old Masters to daring flirts on swings and dead robins lying claws up in the snow.     

Russell Sedgfield,the complete photographer

Abstract

On 30th October 1833 Russell Sedgfield, at the age of seven and while on a visit to London, wrote a letter to Master Edward Sedgfield, his younger brother by one year: ‘Dear Edward, I have seen the Monument, River, Ships, and a Steam Boat, and the ships are not as big as our house, and I went out walking and saw St Pauls ...’ The handwriting is firm and decisive. He concluded: ‘Give my love to Papa and Mama, Grandfather, Grandma, Grandpa, Aunt Charlotte, Henry and Sisters, and I remain, Your Affectionate Brother, Russell.’ A year or two later he wrote a pertinent little poem, The Family Meeting, in which he characterized his ten uncles and aunts. Good observation and the ability to grasp the essentials and weigh things up seem to have been distinctive traits of Sedgfield from an early age.     

Painter and photographer; Brisbane in the 18805 and 18905

Abstract

In August of 1889 the popular local magazine The Boomerang published an article entitled ‘Photography as an Art’, which took the form of an extended advertisement for the recently moved establishment of Thomas Mathewson, one of Brisbane's well-patronized photographic studios ¹ Mathewson began as a professional photographer in 1864, travelling widely throughout Queensland and setting up studios in Gympie and Maryborough. In July of 1876 he opened the studio of Mathewson and Co. in Queen Street, Brisbane. The studio was well established by the mid 1880s and continued in operation until the 1920s. . In the article the writer compares Mathewson's studio with an artistically appointed ‘salon’: ‘This is a palace of photography indeed, with its glittering entrance gallery lined with golden show frames and its luxurious waiting-room that is like the salon of a patron of the fine arts’ ² The Boomerang (24th August 1889). (Figure 1).     

The autochrome process

Abstract

The autochrome was the first successful commercial colour process. It was invented by Louis and Auguste Lumiere at the tum of the century, patented in 1903 and produced until the 1950s on a sheet film called ‘Filmcolor’. Many articles were published between 1903 when the autochrome process was unveiled to the public, and 1935 when the decline of the screen process began and the first colour films with chromogenic development appeared. There are detailed deseriptions of the plate's range of use, its characteristies and processing, but these publications are very sketchy as to the nature of the components. The most detailed documents, on which this article is based, are the ‘report on the titles and work of Louis Lumiere’ published in 1918, the factory notebooks written by Louis Lumiere or M. Perrigot,¹ and the archives of the Lumiere firm, which are now scattered in various locations.     

M. O. Hammond of Toronto

Abstract

‘Mr Hammond, you have a good way of sensing public taste’,¹ remarked an official of the Canadian National Exhibition (CNE) in 1926, during a discussion with members of the Toronto Camera Club (TCC) about the annual International Salon of Photography. ‘Mr Hammond’ was the journalist and amateur photographer M. O. Hammond (1876-1934),² a fixture in the Toronto culture scene since 1906 when he had become literary editor and a reviewer of art exhibitions for the newspaper The Globe. He was well known for his efforts to encourage and publish Canadian writers and artists. His three books³ and numerous newspaper and magazine articles popularized Canadian history, art, and literature, and were frequently illustrated by his own photographs.     

Joseph A. Maybin and Two Steamboat Wrecks

Abstract

Just after 10 a.m. on Monday 17th August 1885, as the steamboat S. M. Felton left its dock in Philadelphia headed for Wilmington, Delaware, an explosion ripped through its forward deck structure. Miraculously, no one was killed, although several people were injured. The ship returned to the dock and, after the passengers were disembarked, was towed to the Pusey & Jones Company in Wilmington for repairs. The ship's captain and others were convinced that the explosion had not been an accident, and that for some unknown reason a ‘veritable infernal device’ had been ‘smuggled’ on board and set to go off to make it look as if the boiler had exploded. No theory was advanced as to who would have done such a thing, although it was pointed out that the Felton was the archrival of the ship Brandywine. Since the two ships frequently left Philadelphia at the same time, races between them were common¹. Another good cause for speculation was the report in the Wilmington Every Evening less than two weeks before the explosion that the Felton charged a fare ‘so low that it is intended to drive all other boats from the river’². In the long run nothing came of these suspicions, and no one was ever convicted in the case, despite the work of a Captain Linden of the Pinkerton Detective Agency.     

The success of Samuel Bourne in India

Abstract

In their 1955 edition of The History of Photography Helmut and Alison Gernsheim noted that the work of Samuel Bourne has ‘undeservedly fallen into oblivion’. They recognized the outstanding quality of the photographs produced on Bourne's excursions in India during the 1860s, including three arduous treks into the western Himalayas. By drawing on the young Englishman's own engaging accounts of his exploits in the mountains — a series of articles published in The British Journal of Photography — the Gernsheims were able to provide ‘an impression of a truly unique achievement’.¹ This initial effort to rescue Bourne from the limbo of forgotten landscapists was continued some twenty years later when his expeditionary work was featured in Ann Turner's BBC television series, ‘Pioneers of Photography’, which was brought out in book form by Aaron Scharf in 1976.² Other serious examinations of Bourne's photographs soon followed, the most significant of these being Arthur Ollman's brief but excellent monograph published in conjunction with an exhibition sponsored by the Friends of Photography in California.³ While the collective writings on Bourne thus ensured his entry into the mainstream of photo-history and provided the groundwork for future studies, numerous questions still remained unanswered regarding Bourne's entry into the photographic trade in India, his professional success, and the impact of his work on his contemporaries. Moreover, previous discussions of the artist's pictorial accomplishments have been limited to selected works with little or no investigation of the possible meanings attached to variations of formats and subtly interrelated series of images, including their cultural and social significance.⁴     

Your loving auntie & God mama,Julia Cameron

Abstract

Written almost immediately upon her return from her 10 years in India, and probably at her temporary residence, Ephrahim Common, Tunbridge Wells, Kent, this note is a typical example of Mrs Cameron's effusive, loving style. The letter dates from a time 15 years before Julia Margaret touched a camera, and it is to her niece Julia PrinsepJackson, who was then only two years old. She was a god-daughter to Mrs Cameron, and later her most frequent model. Indeed, Julia Jackson (1846–1895) became one of the most beautiful of 19th-century women. Her first husband, Herbert Duckworth, died in 1870, and eight years later she married Sir Leslie Stephen, editor of the Dictionary of National Biography. Two of her children became famous: Vanessa Bell as a painter, Virginia Woolf as a writer. Julia eventually wrote the DNB entry (from ‘personal knowledge’) of her eccentric aunt, who was renowned for her taste in shawls, her generosity in giving them as presents, and for fixing the images of certain 19th-century great men for all time. The ‘two Hardinges’ refers at least in part to Julia Margaret's son Hardinge Hay Cameron, godson of Lord Hardinge, the recently-retired Governor-General of India     

Dickens and ‘photography’ in ‘household words’

Abstract

The January 1981 issue of History of Photography (Vol. 5, No. 1 , p. 51), Lindsay Lambert writes: ‘The following article [‘Photography, 1853’] appeared in Household Words (19th March 1853). The journal was edited by Charles Dickens, and since the article carries no other by-line, it may well have been written by the editor himself’.     

John Thomson (1837–1921)

Abstract

Abstract Thomson did some of his most important work in Asia but was not, of course, the first European photographer to travel there. Thus, Eliphalet Brown, Jr. had accompanied Commodore Perry's expedition to Asia in 1852–1854. His daguerreotypes were reproduced by means of woodcuts and lithographs in the official report of the expedition. A Narrative of the Expedition to the China Seas and Japan ¹. Felice Beato photographed the Crimean War of 1855 with James Robertson, continued eastward photographing India during the next five years, and then attached himself to the Anglo-French campaign against China. There he covered the capture of Fort Taku at Tiensin, and later the destruction of the Imperial Summer Palace north of Peking in October 1860. Thomson appeared on the site 10 years later. He photographed Fort Taku also, and noted that it ‘looked like a deserted mud quarry’².     

The Reception of Albert Renger-Patzsch's Die Welt ist schön

Abstract

No history of photography or publication on the photography of the 1920s fails to mention the photo-book Die Welt ist schön. Regarded as a ‘manifesto of the revival of Realism,’¹ and hailed as the ‘bible’ of Neue Sachlichkeit photography,² ‘hardly any other book has influenced a generation of photographers to the same great extent and with such long-lasting effects as this volume‘.³ It was the book's tide in particular that was received like a catchword and influenced the reception of this photographic volume: ‘The tide became symbolic for an attitude of Neue Sachlichkeit to the world and the book was acknowledged as the ideal volume of Neue Sachlichkeit photography’.⁴ Hitherto in the history of the book's reception, this opinion has been restricted primarily to the reference to Walter Benjamin's well-known negative critique of 1931.⁵ Amongst the multitude of reviews of Die Welt ist schon, it is Benjamin's assessment which is most frequendy cited in the literature. That Benjamin was able to neglect explicidy mentioning Renger-Patzsch's name and to refer merely to the tide of the book can be interpreted as proof of the great fame of this photographic author. In fact, Die Welt ist schön had by this time been reviewed in nearly all leading cultural magazines and daily newspapers and evaluated as an exemplary volume of a modem, neusachliche photography. For critics such as Benjamin, however, the tide was synonymous with a new, sterile ‘l’art pour l'art' photography which manipulated reality and denied social contexts. But to confine negative criticism of Die Welt ist schön to the political left and its praise to a more conservative attitude is too simple a model as becomes apparent when all of the reviews are taken into consideration. Karl With's attempt to summarize the contradictions of this picture book may be cited here: ‘Ein seltsames Buch!} (A strange book!). Exciting in its busding abundance, as well as in its silence’.⁶