No matter the temperature, may your Christmas be warm and bright.
“Sunlight is said to be the best of disinfectants” —Louis Brandeis, U.S. Supreme Court Justice, 1913
This Brandeis quote is widely cited today as referring to the benefits of openness and transparency-especially as it pertains to keeping democracy vital and thriving.
So what does this have to do with a blog dedicated to preserving, promoting and riffing on the history of artistic photography?
Well, unfortunately, not much at all. That is, if only we were to think of photography as a truthful medium- something that accurately records for posterity what is placed before it or “seen” by the camera. That evidence would be from an impartial machine, and honesty might prevail. But as we traverse the second decade of the 21st Century, technology is taking a brutal hammer to what our once (believing) eyes took for fact. The sunlight of truthfulness has gotten a bit dim of late, yielding, inevitably, to “progress”. Of course, arguments could be made that photography has lied ever since the invention of the medium. Longtime readers of this blog might remember how I wrote about unscrupulous “photographers” operating in the mid 19th century who would trick people into believing the camera itself could mesmerize them. Today, as of October 2024, when I first spotted it, the updated version of mesmerization is now done courtesy of AI. (artificial intelligence) Here’s an Orwellian example of that in what I will call the Ebay photographic caption from Hell that should help put things in perspective:
“This vintage photograph captures a momentous occasion in Yellowstone National Park in 1892. The image depicts a family who was taken by a tripod rigged. The photograph is in sepia tone and has a size of H18 3/10 cm x W21 5/10 cm. The image is produced using a photographic technique and features the Richardsons family. This collectible item is perfect for photography enthusiasts and collectors alike.“
So far, kinda good, other than the “tripod rigged” mention and the fact no one really speaks of common snapshots of Victorians chilling in nature as a “momentous occasion”. It would soon become apparent that our new friend AI was hard at work to really sell this photo. The caption continues:
“The Richardson Family was off on an expedition and there were no cell phones and there was no one out there and there were no Rangers and there were no Rescuers and nobody could save them if they where to call out and that’s what it was like in those days and they put their lives in front of nature and they didn’t think ahead of time to prepare if any natural occurrences would come along with bears and mountain lions.”
So yeah. What could possibly go wrong in our brave new world? I say bring on the sunlight. And lots of it. Call out the fakes. Push back. We here at PhotoSeed are big fans of transparency. Who wants to collect a “vintage” photograph with that kind of back story or an obvious fake of great, great grandma or grandad run through an AI filter? Well someone of course, and that’s cool too- whatever floats your boat and all that. But I digress.
Sunlight- as a kind of invisible chemical medium- was everything to the existence of early photography. Similar to AI today in that enabling it is just a few clicks on a computer keyboard, and may remain a mystery to unsuspecting viewers, people did not understand what a photograph was or how they were made in the earliest version of the medium. Sunlight provided that answer, or at least a reasoning. The ever-present Sun overhead provided the means for these early efforts. In the 1830s, the Englishman William Henry Fox Talbot, a botanist among other passions, experimented by recording the shapes of things like leaves and lace, contact printing these on sheets of chemically altered writing paper. The results were known as “photogenic drawings”, or drawings produced by light. It’s no wonder promotion of early photography involved the iconography of our friend the Sun.
Talbot’s Calotype process, patented in 1841 with earlier iterations being the basis for his groundbreaking positive-negative process of 1839, would be referred by him and other practitioners as “Sun Pictures”, or Talbotypes. The editors of London’s Art Union Journal exclaimed in June 1846, while presenting an original example of one of his Sun Pictures (see example above) that:
“It will be remembered that we have from time to time called attention to these truly wonderful representations, in our notices of Mr. Talbot’s work, “The Pencil of Nature.” By the public these “sun-pictures” are still misapprehended-still “misnomered;” we shall accordingly, in this notice, show what they are not, and endeavour to explain what they are, as it is yet far from generally accepted that they result from the action of light alone, and are not produced by some leger-de-main [slight of hand] of Art.”
The article continues and even gives the chemical formula for making sensitized Calotype paper that could be exposed in a camera obscura. (1.) Terminology developed rapidly from here. To differentiate in the public discourse from a painting or drawing made by hand, these new “photographs” would hence be referred to as being “From Nature.” The one constant of this wondrous invention was the Sun overhead. It alone was responsible for even making photography and photographs exist in the first place.
In the exhibition catalogue “The Last Decade” published in 1984 by George Eastman House, the symbolism of Sun imagery is discussed as part of an 1899 nude study by Belgian photographer Charles Fondu:“Fondu’s woman, combination of femme fatale and omnipotent angelic female, is profiled against the sun. Like the sunflower, the sun was a popular symbol with art photography clubs. It represented photography’s necessary light as well as the inspiration, power and renewal associated with otherworldly presence.” (p.4)
As a graphic device, the image of a Sun would be a great promoter for photographic achievement, and was common in print even through the first decade of the 20th Century.
I hope you enjoy these examples of artistic photographs from nature, and have included a few of my own as modern comparisons. The contrast deliberate, my very own version of “Sun & Shade”: “Butterfly Wings” was taken in the “Sunshine State” while “Condemned” hails from the depths of an upstate New York Winter.
Even in our current digital age, the Sun, giver of all life, continues to make photography possible by giving complex machines the illumination necessary to record our everyday existences and its many hues, shapes and wonders. But it’s a layered argument, the Sun being symbolic as well. Take my last photograph in this post. It’s the winter of 1983 (2.) and my assignment for The Daily Orange student newspaper was to photograph the final residents of the old Winchell Hall dormitory on campus, soon to face the wrecking ball. A snowstorm, as was common on a Syracuse winter day back then, was in full force. Stage directing the scene from across the street while somehow convincing the students to all climb out onto their respective room balconies was actually the easy part. What I didn’t anticipate were all the smiles that erupted, the finger pointing and general merriment the act of taking the photograph brought about. Sure, the old building was coming down to be replaced by a bright new shiny object, but these students had been forever immortalized in a photograph. And a truthful one at that: an unmanipulated moment where their futures were truly bright, and one where future dreams would surely include many bright tomorrows.
I may have actually photographed this scene in mid January, 1984. From the SU archives: “While in the process of being demolished to make room for the building of Schine Student Center, a fire, possibly arson, swept through Winchell in early February 1984 and hastened the venerable structure’s end. in early 1984.” Read more about the history of Winchell Hall.
It’s been ten years since this archive delved into Scottish photography, with our post: The Permanence of Disruption, which looked into the first use of photography on a large scale as the basis for a painting.
The artist of this work, David Octavius Hill, (1802-70) Secretary of the Royal Scottish Academy of Fine Arts in Edinburgh, used hundreds of portraits done in partnership with his employee, the calotype photographer Robert Adamson, a chemist born in St. Andrews, (1821-1848) as the basis for his 1843 “Disruption” painting.
Taking 23 years to complete, the work marked the occasion of Scottish religious free will: the schism known as the Disruption, which took place at Edinburgh’s Tanfield Hall in 1843. This is when the First General Assembly of the Free Church of Scotland signed the Act of Separation and Deed of Demission from the Church of Scotland.
The occasion for this post? A long overdue visit to where this painting was executed- Edinburgh, Scotland, with a day-long tour of the Scottish Highlands rounding out my visit: a week that included quality time with my aunt- my late father’s kid sister- outside Newcastle.
The last time I visited Scotland was more than 40 years ago- a memorable Glasgow visit with fellow University photography students. Camera always in hand, I seem to remember my young deluded self becoming rapturous while taking photographs of a skeleton smoking a cigarette displayed by students at the Glasgow School of Art for some kind of exhibition, as well as visiting the original Willow Tearooms, designed by famed architect Charles Rennie Mackintosh, then newly refurbished in 1983, the year I visited.
But this time, a thorough exploration of Scotland’s capital, Edinburgh, as well as the Scottish Highlands, were in store. With the magisterial Edinburgh Castle, located high atop Castle Rock, seemingly looming over all of the capital, it soon became evident this city would put San Francisco to shame in the department of hilly streets. So with my wife’s bemusement and a bit of whimpering on my part, a massive amount of rocky stair climbing would soon become part of our daily routine as we explored the city’s Old Town neighborhoods in particular.
The first order of business in Edinburgh was to pay a visit, in person, to see the “Disruption” painting by Hill. I had tried to do basic research before the trip- where it was displayed, etc. but did not really have specific details, other than an address on “The Mound”, located on the periphery of the city’s medieval Old Town.
Speaking into an intercom at that address, which turned out to be the Edinburgh Theological Seminary, I lucked out. Explaining my interest in seeing the painting by Hill, a lovely employee- Fiona- a painter herself as I recall-asked if we had an appointment, to which stammering and ignorance ensued on my end. But the planets aligned-no meetings were then being held in Presbytery Hall- where the painting was permanently displayed, and buzzing my wife and I up, she gave an unrushed, personal tour of the painting and the room it was displayed in.
After befuddled coffee ordering- the “Americano” seems to approximate Dunkin’, but without the cream and sugar- the highlight of one full morning in Edinburgh was a visit to the “National”, the main gallery building of the National Galleries of Scotland. It’s located near Princess Street Gardens, and directly over the underground railroad tracks for nearby Waverly Station. (an 1866 photograph by Thomas Annan showing the building can be seen with this post)
Free, this is a world-class museum showcasing International and Scottish art from 1300-1945, and I was delighted to encounter an original oil painting done by David Octavius Hill ca. 1846-47. Titled “Edinburgh Old and New”, the work shows the expanse of Edinburgh looking down from the castle.
I’ve used a photo of the painting as the first picture in this post. Curators at the National helpfully include on the informational wall descriptor that photography was central to the panoramic effect achieved in the work: “Hill was a pioneer of photography, with his associate Robert Adamson (1821-1848). He used their experiments with this new technology to inform several aspects of the painting. To achieve the panoramic effect, he merged a series of photographic views taken from the Mons Meg Battery of Edinburgh Castle.”
So its nice to learn photography really did inform Hill’s painting, not just in his “Disruption” work. We soon headed over to the National Galleries of Scotland Portrait Gallery, where I had been hopefully informed by a National employee that photography was actually on display. This is not always the case in museums. Knowing Scotland does not have a dedicated national gallery for photography highlighting Scottish achievements, (1.) the Portrait gallery was a good bet.
The first wonderful thing I saw, besides many busts of eminent Scotsmen, was a striking marble head of Hugh Miller, (1802-1856) an intellectual of Victorian Scotland whom I recognized from a book photograph taken by Hill & Adamson in my library. Miller was originally a stonemason who went on to be a geologist, pioneering journalist and champion of the Free Church of Scotland. Nearby, the gallery helpfully included in a display case a later carbon print (Jessie Bertram?) of Miller printed from the original 1843 calotype negative.
But then things got better. When was the last time you encountered a marble bust on display of a famous photographer, who also happened to be an artist? And from 1868? Certainly, in my estimation, the Scottish people are historically way ahead of the curve when it comes to acknowledging the genius of photography! And not to leave the female gender absent, the wall card informs us the artist behind the sculpture was none other than Hill’s second wife, Amelia Robertson Hill. In fact, scholars have now credited her with helping her husband complete the Disruption painting by 1866. Included as part of the Portrait galleries (semi-permanent?) exhibition: HEROES & HEROINES – IDEALISM AND ACHIEVEMENT IN THE VICTORIAN AGE, Robertson Hill’s ““heroic” bust shows Hill wearing classical drapery rather than contemporary dress-furthering an immortalization and lasting impression for the ages of a real photographic innovator.
In the library at the Portrait gallery, I happened upon the volume A Perfect Chemistry: Photographs by Hill and Adamson, (Anne M. Lyden: National Galleries of Scotland: 2018) which helpfully reproduced several photographs by the duo taken in Edinburgh’s Greyfriars Kirkyard, and so I was off to see if I could find remains of some of the memorials shown in the early 1840s photographs. The library itself holds the world’s largest collection of Hill and Adamson’s photographs, with most digitized and accessible- a remarkable resource for those looking to do further research. As of this writing, The Scottish National Portrait Gallery has 6,154 artworks: original and later prints, calotype negatives, drawings and paintings by the Hill & Adamson, with 5,809 of these with images online.
It took a while, admittedly distracted by Greyfriars Bobby, the churchyard’s celebrity resident, now permanently lying at rest but helpfully alive in perpetuity nearby as a bronze statue. Similar to accessible memorials everywhere sporting touchable appendages: think- Abe Lincoln’s very shiny nose in Oakridge Cemetery, Springfield, IL- Bobby’s nose is equally bright- worn down by all those seeking good luck. At least for me, the act was infinitely easier than my experience 40 years ago as a student lying on my back kissing the Blarney Stone. The legend goes that Bobby, believed to be a long-haired Skye Terrier, guarded his owner’s grave in the Kirkyard for 14 years after his owner died in 1858, and after his own passing in 1872 was buried near his owner’s grave. But I digress. Soon, with the help of my amused wife, we found the remains of the Paton and Chalmers Monuments I saw in the book photographed by Hill & Adamson in 1843. Much weathered, I could not line up a modern day perspective due to a large tree and other changes in the topography, but a reasonable view was captured.
While researching Scottish photographers and Edinburgh, I realized I owned some photographically illustrated volumes featuring the city taken by Scottish native sons George Washington Wilson: born in Alvah, Banffshire: 1823-1893, and Thomas Annan: born in Dairsie, Fife: 1829-1887. These latter works were included in an 1866 edition of the narrative poem Marmion: A Tale of Flodden Field, written by Edinburgh poet Sir Walter Scott, (1771-1832) whose magnificent 200’ tall memorial- believed to be the largest dedicated to a writer- is a city landmark located just outside the Waverly train station, itself appropriately named after his groundbreaking historical Waverly novels.
In a chance visit to the National Library, I stumbled on the exhibit “Images of Italy”, which showcased work by the important Scottish photographers Robert Macpherson (born Dalkeith, Scotland: 1814-72) and James Craig Annan, a favorite of this archive. (born Hamilton, South Lanarkshire, Scotland: 1864-1946) I’ve uploaded several examples of their work, including Annan’s famous view of Stirling castle outside Edinburgh.
A photograph of the John Knox house in Edinburgh by Archibald Burns from my collection, who was based in the city from the early 1850s, (b. 1831-1880) is one of 8 Carte de visite albumen views in this archive included with this post. Interestingly, both Thomas Annan and Burns took up residence and trade in the former photographic studio known as Rock House, previously home to Robert Adamson and then D.O. Hill.
I’ve included examples of both Annan’s work here, along with a few earlier Crimean war salt prints depicting members of the famed Scottish regiment 21st Royal North British Fusiliers.
These were taken by British great James Robertson, (1813-88) and various other nuggets unearthed to celebrate the Highlands themselves: some of the most remarkable scenery I was able to visit firsthand.
I hope you may be inspired by these examples of historical Scottish photography and artwork going back to the early 1840’s, as well as my modern day snaps, in order to inspire, give insight, and make you want you to learn more about Scotland in general. So plan a visit yourself, to a fiercely independent nation whose motto: “Nemo Me Impune Lacessit” translates to “No one provokes me with impunity.”
My timing was not perfect to the Portrait gallery, as I learned the opening of an exhibit celebrating 40 Years of Scotland’s Photography Collection would open the following week of my visit. Including a stunning series of New Haven fishwives photographs (calotypes) by Hill & Adamson taken in the early to mid 1840s, the exhibit is described: “highlights from the nation’s world-class collection of over 55,000 photographs. Find famous faces, gems of early Scottish photography and new acquisitions which push the boundaries of photography.”
A little over seven years ago, this archive finally acquired the monumental European portfolio Nach der Natur, (After Nature) published in Berlin in early 1897.
Composed of 32 sumptuous hand-pulled photogravure plates, I learned it was considered a cornerstone to any important collection of artistic photography when first reading about it almost 25 years ago. And, as persistence can sometimes pay off, a Dresden antiquarian bookseller listed the folio, along with other titles, appearing in my inbox in March of 2017. The portfolio itself is the artistic historical record for Berlin’s 1896 International Exhibition of Amateur Photography (Internationalen Ausstellung für Amateur-Photographie) held in the Reichstag building, the German government’s legislative headquarters, which had newly opened two years prior in mid 1894.
Approximately 580 exhibitors took part from around the world, with one reviewer commenting that other than the scientific entries, in terms of mounted photographs: “there may have been several thousand of them”. The exhibition had the support of Victoria, Empress of Germany and Queen of Prussia, the first born child of Queen Victoria of Great Britain and Prince Albert of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha: a chip off the proverbial block per chance? It’s well known Albert had a passion for employing early photography to document the British Royal family.
Due to this work being an important influence on the perception of photography as art in the public discourse during the last years of the 19th century, I’ve dedicated some time in pulling contemporary reviews for the exhibition, and have further translated the entirety of the letterpress for the portfolio, along with acknowledgements, etc. from editor Franz Goerke and the main portfolio essay penned by Richard Stettiner. I will continue my thoughts at the conclusion of this post on the importance of the photogravure plates from this work and how it influenced Alfred Stieglitz in America, with the baton first taken up by Goerke- an important proponent of the photogravure process. Goerke had shown a series of mounted photogravures at the exhibition- logically continuing his favored reproduction process by assembling Nach der Natur as a remembrance of it. But first, some contemporary excerpts laying out differing perceptions of the 1896 Berlin exhibition by the German photographic press:
Observations: The German Photographic Press (translated)
Photographische Mitteilungen, Berlin: October, 1896: reviewer Paul Hanneke:
⎯ On September 3rd, the international exhibition for amateur photography opened in the new Reichstag building. The choice of location is certainly a very fortunate one, because as a sight in Berlin, it already exerts a certain attraction on the public. The rooms made available for the photography exhibition are on the first floor and are large enough to be able to arrange the numerous pictures etc. received in a clear order. Unfortunately, the lighting conditions are sometimes quite unfavorable, so that some beautiful pieces do not really come into their own. The exhibition itself is richly represented by all parts of the world, namely Austria, England, France and Belgium, which are countries that have participated heavily and are distinguished by their outstanding achievements, especially in artistic terms. (1.)
Wiener Photographische Blätter, Vienna: November, 1896: reviewer Ludwig David:
⎯ Respectfully withholding commentary for work shown at the exhibition by his own club: “the Vienna School has taken its place with honor”, David gives overall thoughts and then offers criticism for individual works at the exhibition from their respective countries, England, France, Belgium, etc: “The exhibition was divided into several sections in order to keep the representations of artistic photography and those serving scientific purposes separate. The fact that the exhibition was housed in the stately, wide rooms of the new Reichstag building ensured that it was well attended, as many people were enticed to get to know the interior design and the beauties of this new building. The large number of visitors, around 26,000 people, can also be attributed to the keen interest shown in the exhibition by Berlin’s upper class.
⎯ All of the pictures that were not for scientific purposes, there may have been several thousand of them, were housed partly in the corridors, which receive their scant light from the courtyards of the building, and partly in a large domed structure that connects these corridors and has a skylight. In these rooms there was room for all the pictures that are understood under the somewhat cumbersome and tasteless name of “amateur photographs.” There was no separation of the pictures of an artistic nature from the majority of pictures that do not claim this designation.”
⎯ From America, David singles out William Boyd Post, Clarence Moore, C.R. Pancoast, Charles I. Berg, Emma Justine Farnsworth, A. Eidenmüller (St. Paul) and Alfred Stieglitz: …“a well-known master whose fame was not first established at this exhibition. Most of his pictures are no longer new either. “A wet day, with its drastic rainy mood is outstanding; “Scurrying home“, two old Dutch women walking through the countryside, is picturesque, a splendid picture printed in sepia.
⎯ It must be said of the exhibition itself that it has fully fulfilled its task of giving a picture of the current state of photography. The arrangers, who had to deal with an enormous amount of material, deserve credit for having handled this task in a skilful manner: among others, Dr. Neuhauss has done particularly well for the scientific department of photography, and Mr. Franz Goerke for the artistic department. The light in the exhibition room was not sufficient in all places, the pictures were often too close together and hung much too high. It would also have been advisable to separate the pictures with a painterly effect from the works that were not of the same quality and to have the admission and award jury for this section comprise only recognized artists.” (2.)
Photographische Correspondenz, Vienna & Leipzig: October, 1896: Unknown reviewer(s):
⎯ Would you like a picture of the international exhibition for amateur photography in Berlin? If you call a horse a crocodile, you have used a nomenclature that is just as correct as calling this exhibition an amateur exhibition, assuming that you assume that the amateur does photography for pleasure.
It would actually be time to divide amateur photographers into two classes: amateurs who turn to the subject out of scientific interest and pursue serious studies for their own development, and dilettantes who only engage in photography per diletto, for pleasure and to pass the time. Even with this classification, the name of the exhibition would hardly be correct, because it contains universal material in which the specific arts and crafts play a large part; it shows the enormous expansion of photography in our time, of which portrait photography is only a very small individual case. Due to this versatility, one could say that the exhibition is filled with the work of professional photographers.
⎯ There is hardly an area of art and science that does not have a connection with photography. This explains the lively interest shown in this technique even in the highest circles, and which finds its most striking expression in the fact that Her Majesty the Empress Frederick has granted the exhibition her patronage.
⎯ The exhibition not only gives a picture of art and science, no, it gives a description of the world in pictures, which ranges from the mists of emerging worlds to the tiniest creatures that treacherously gnaw at the health of our bodies; and those who are prevented by unfavorable circumstances from following their urge to travel far away will find satisfaction here, because Mother Earth is presented to them from the snow-covered peaks of the highest mountains to the deepest shafts of the burrowing miners, from the islands of the South Seas circling the globe to the west, to the magnificent landscapes of California.
⎯ On the whole, the practice of platinum and pigment processes predominate. Matte collodion paper is also often used, but cannot compete with the first-mentioned processes in terms of artistic impression, not least because of the bluish cold tone of the background, which is one of the disadvantages of stencil-based photography. Pictures with a glossy surface are only found in small numbers and least of all where the artistic effect of the picture is important.
⎯ We now enter the round domed hall, which has an international character. We would like to call it the fermentation vat of the exhibition, because here it ripples and foams and struggles for new means of expression and creates bubbles, some of which disintegrate, while others condense into core points around which new structures arrange themselves. Here you can hear the professional photographers cry out in horror, and yet they should be able to explain why a considerable number of visitors describe these works in particular as painterly and virtuosic. Does the secessionist idea have any justification alongside the traditional art forms? It undoubtedly deserves to be examined for its causes, its nature and its relationship to the traditional. It is the absolutely unfamiliarity that has a repulsive effect on the professional photographers here. They are used to looking at the world through photographic glasses and do not believe that it looks completely different in reality. But photography is old enough that these glasses will need new lenses that are a bit sharper. A picture that is hung on the wall must not be too small and must have a different, less decorative character than a picture that is kept in an album for intimate viewing. For this reason, the large pictures at the exhibition are so much more effective than the small pictures that one has to look at with a trained eye. (3.)
Compatriots in Photogravure: Franz Goerke & Alfred Stieglitz
And who was responsible for these “sumptuous hand-pulled photogravure plates” contained in Nach der Natur? The Photographische Gesellschaft in Berlin. As I’ve noted elsewhere on this site, the proper name of this atelier is The Berlin Photographic Company. Established in 1862 in Berlin, Germany with retail and distribution branch offices located in New York, London and Paris, this large art publishing house was founded by the brothers Christian “Albert” Eduard Werckmeister, (1827-1873) an engineer and chemist, and “Friedrich” Gustav Werckmeister, (1839-1894) a painter and etcher. The concern was collectively owned and run by their younger brother Emil Werckmeister. (1844-1923) The majority of their efforts concerned the reproduction and sale of engravings and notable oil paintings by master artists in the collections of major museums and collections throughout Europe, with the permanent process of photogravure a specialty of the house.
The establishment of fine photogravure production in Europe, including the earlier noteworthy efforts of Walter L. Colls in London for his Linked Ring Salon folios and Photo Club de Paris folios by Charles Wittmann in Paris set a very high bar for the future published efforts of Franz Goerke in Berlin and Alfred Stieglitz in New York.
After his publication of Nach der Natur, Goerke, (1856-1931) an important exponent of German art photography, took on the project of being editor and publisher for Die Kunst in der Photographie, (The Art of Photography) published in Berlin from from 1897-1908. Many of the hundreds of fine photogravure plates making up the run of DKIDP beginning with 1897 can be found in this archive. A founder along with others in 1889 of the Free Photographic Association in Berlin, Franz Goerke’s promotion of photography as art is summed up as part of his Preface to Nach der Natur:
“The seed has been sown by this exhibition. May it bear rich fruit. Above all, it should convince those who still see artistic photography as a useless and pointless game that there is a deep and serious desire in amateur circles to raise photography to the status of art and to place it alongside other arts.”
An amateur photographer himself, Goerke’s passion as publisher and editor certainly piqued the interest of Alfred Stieglitz (1864-1946) in New York, a self-taught amateur photographer whose formal education included mechanical engineering, beginning in October, 1882, when he enrolled in the all male Technical University of Berlin (Technische Hochschule) and later photochemistry at the same institution- taught by Hermann Wilhelm Vogel. (1834-1898) An authority on orthochromatic photography, Vogel became a mentor to the young Stieglitz, and he later founded the Deutsche Gesellschaft von Freunden der Photographie (German Society of the Friends of Photography) in 1887.
At the conclusion of his university studies and Continental wanderings, Stieglitz returned to the US in September, 1890 at the passing of his sister Flora. At the urging of his father Edward, he soon became involved with the business venture of photoengraving: first at the struggling Heliochrome Company in lower Manhattan, which he eventually restructured. Taking on his two former Berlin roommates Louis Schubart and Joseph Obermeyer as partners, this concern was rechristened the Photochrome Engraving Company. Photogravure was a specialty, but Stieglitz soon became involved in other ventures-first co-editing the American Amateur Photographer in 1893, ultimately rising to sole editor in January, 1895, the increased workload among his other interests giving him “the opportunity to disentangle himself from the Photochrome Engraving Company”. (4.) Even without having a direct hand in his own atelier, by the time he received his copy of the Nach der Natur portfolio in late 1897, his obvious delight and respect for the photogravure plates executed within by the Photographische Gesellschaft in Berlin under Goerke’s mindful watch gave him obvious delight. This in turn gave him reason to author a review of the portfolio in the pages of the new publication Camera Notes, the journal of the New York Camera Club. Paraphrasing, his reaction to the quality of these plates proclaimed photogravure: “the most perfect of all photographic reproduction processes.” (5.)
The review in its entirety: “Nach der Natur” is without doubt the most elaborate and beautiful publication which has yet appeared in photographic literature.
The series of photogravures which form the bulk of the book, include pictures by the chief medallists of the Exhibition. Among the familiar names we find: Henneberg, Alexandre, Hannon, Farnsworth, Stieglitz, Le Beque, Bremard, Baynton, Esler, David, Boehmer, etc. The text, which serves as an introduction to the pictures, is an essay, which tries to prove that pictorial photography may be an art. Even if all the pictures selected may not prove the case most of them are perfect gems. The photogravures, as such, are beautiful specimens of the most perfect of all photographic reproduction processes.
The library of every photographic club should include this important work, as those interested in pictorial photography will find every phase of it well represented. A copy has been procured for the Camera Club Library. A.S. (6.)
Stieglitz would go on to publish his own portfolio of fine photogravures: Picturesque Bits of New York and Other Studies in 1897, (N.Y.: R.H. Russell) the same year Nach der Natur appeared. On the other side of the Atlantic, Goerke’s own Die Kunst in der Photographie, which should be considered the most important European publication directly inspiring the fine photogravures that soon appeared under the editorship of Stieglitz’s Camera Notes, would in turn lead him elevating the process to its apogee in the US: his groundbreaking and seminal venture Camera Work, published between 1903-17.
⎯ David Spencer October, 2024
1. Excerpt: Paul Hanneke: Internationale Ausstellung für Amateur – Photographie zu Berlin , Photographische Mitteilungen, Berlin: October, 1896: pp. 205-209/ continues: pp. 219-224; 235-37.
2. Excerpt: Ludwig David: “Die künstlerische Richtung auf der internationalen Ausstellung für Amateur-Photographie in Berlin,” Wiener Photographische Blätter, Wien: 3:11 (November 1896), pp. 201–215
3.Excerpt: “Berliner Nachrichten. September 1896.”, Photographische Correspondenz, Vienna & Leipzig: October, 1896: from unknown reviewer(s): (article signed: “Von der Hasenhaide”) pp. 471-477
4. Julia Thompson: Stieglitz’s Portfolios and Other Published Photographs: Alfred Stieglitz Key Set, NGA Online Editions, accessed September, 2024
5. Camera Notes, New York: Vol. 1, issue III: January, 1898
6. Ibid, p. 85
This summer in the New England area, where PhotoSeed calls home, has seen copious hydrangea blooms like none in recent memory. So with juxtaposition in mind, I cracked an issue of Camera Work and brought to life for a moment one of my favorite Adolf De Meyer photographs from 1908: Still Life, featuring several limp hydrangea blooms balancing from a clear glass of water. The radical composition sucks me in every time I see this photograph and was an important marker in my own development as a young photographer- that and the stunning Jan Groover (American: 1943–2012) compositions featuring household cutlery.
Perhaps inspiration itself for the much later André Kertész photograph called “Melancholic Tulip, New York”, dating to 1939, in which a drooping bloom is photographed by Kertész (American, born Hungary 1894-1985) using a parabolic mirror- a metaphor, according to the Getty “that is also a self-portrait of the artist as a wilted flower”. Perhaps. But for me, one thing is constant in Photography: changing perspectives. Assuming a human is behind that lens, (sorry AI) photography is ever changing. Just like the weather of late and climate change in particular. The result of these factors- fleeting beauty showcased in bountiful hydrangea blooms- can be distilled from a few factors. In The Times, Hank Sanders writes on July 10, 2024 and quotes Melissa Finley, Thain Curator of Woody Plants at the New York Botanical Garden, who said that after a rainy summer and fall in 2023, a warm winter with El Niño conditions “caused very little damage to the dormant buds, leading to an explosion of blossoms now.” As for myself, I’m going to enjoy the show around these parts, which includes these glorious backyard blossoms, juxtaposed. I hope you do too.