December 28: Present

Date #28December 28: Today being my birthday, please indulge me as I riff off the meanings of ‘present’ and ‘presence’.

I received a gift from my ever-thoughtful partner Lorena that I’ve been longing for; a daguerreotype. Though we were hoping she might pick one up whilst recently overseas in France and Ireland photographing for upcoming illustration commissions, and giving a workshop at a writer’s retreat, dealers in daguerreotypes proved too hard to find, so instead she purchased one online from France.

My beautiful present is most likely French, and so would date from the period in which the medium predominated there during 1839–55 (Americans made daguerreotypes until after 1860), making it at least 164 years old.

Its subject though, remains much younger…she could easily pass in looks and age for my youngest daughter at fourteen…but is certainly not yet in her twenties. She is wearing a carefully fitted, layered and pleated black crepe mourning dress with tiered sleeves and wasp waist. It’s a style found even in Australia and America in the 1840s–1850s, so that alone does not confirm the provenance of the image. Her sad expression is in keeping, but its accompanying bewilderment conveys an emotion deeply felt, so perhaps the deceased was a close relative.

DaguerretypeGirlMourning
Unknown Photographer (c.1850s) Girl in Mourning hand coloured French Daguerreotype, image oval 6cm x 7cm under glass in slightly larger wooden mount, cover missing.

Her hands hold each other in a defensive gesture and like her cheeks, they are tinted pink; looking at them, rendered at a mere centimetre on the sixth-plate (7cm x 8.89cm or 2 ¾ x 3 ¼″) image, one can see that they and the visible white nails are unblemished by hard work.

HandsMourning
Unknown Photographer (c.1850s) Detail of portrait of a girl in mourning, hand coloured French Daguerreotype, image oval 6cm x 7cm under glass in slightly larger wooden mount, cover missing.
oblique
An oblique angle of view renders the image ‘solarised’

In its case, surrounded by a pebbled gold foil oval mat, the image is holographic in appearance, so reminds us that it is the actual silver-plated copper plate, a mere 0.4 mm thick, the one placed in the camera, that we are looking at; a one-off, unique image.

reflection
An oblique angle of view against the light reveals layers of reflection; the thick protective glass throws a fairly undistorted reflection while the warped mirror-like image from the thin metal plate shows subtly buckling

Viewing it and turning it in the light to transform it from a blank mirror reflecting my face, to a negative, and to a positive, I become conscious of a palpable sense of presence—an immanence that is uniquely ‘daguerrian’ (though in ‘conjuring’ its subject, it is the precursor of the fabled video-phone, finally manifested in Skype etc.). It is an inherent quality that is absent from the multiply reproducible negative/positive process and product developed by Talbot and Bayard. It is not a copy of anything but what was projected through the lens; the sad girl sitting patiently before the camera. A part of her very substance is embedded in the image, one feels.

FaceMourning
Unknown Photographer (c.1850s) Detail of portrait of a girl in mourning, hand coloured French Daguerreotype, image oval 6cm x 7cm under glass in slightly larger wooden mount, cover missing.

But there is also an absence that we can see reflected in the girl’s eyes; that of the departed loved one. This picture transmits a sense of loss that I find connecting France with Australia as recorded in the book Lettres reçues d’Océanie par l’administration générale des pères maristes pendant le généralat de Jean-Claude Colin: 1851-1852. Written by the first Marist missionaries to work in the western Pacific and sent back to the general administration of the Marist Fathers, based in Lyons, France, these are the plaintive messages of separated partners and friends, joined only by the virtual presence in the daguerrean likeness:

Despite the pleasure that I would have to see you again, there is one thing that would make me almost dread such a meeting; the reproach with which you would berate me for having delayed so long to write to you. You know, however, that the good Lord willingly forgives repentant sinners; I hope that it will be the same for you in relation to me, since I repent, and really I am not guilty of having forgotten you; but of not writing to you. Even had I wanted to forget you I could not have done it, because the portrait which you were kind enough to send me is every day before my eyes to remind me of your true features and the kindnesses without number that you bestowed on me during my stay in Toulon. There are several people here who have their daguerreotype portraits; but yours is always the best, which proves to you that I have it in my hands, and that it would therefore be very difficult for me not to think of the original.

Photography Other Media c19th
Leonardi, Nicoletta, (editor.) & Natale, Simone, 1981-, (editor.) (2018). Photography and other media in the nineteenth century. The Pennsylvania State University Press, University Park, Pennsylvania

I have recently read a collection of essays in Photography and other media in the nineteenth century. I’ll review the book in due course, but let me point out a notable feature; the essays come in pairs dealing with much the same subject, effectively giving a ‘stereoscopic’ view.

Such is the case with Simone Natale‘s  ‘A mirror with wings : photography and the new era of communications’, and ‘The traveling daguerreotype : early photography and the U.S. postal system’ by David M. Henkin both covering the way that the daguerreotype, beside contemporary technologies in America, collapsed space. Of the two, it is Henkin who employs the evidence from the letters that, as the cost of sending them decreased, increased in their inclusion of photographs, usually portraits of loved ones.

Henkin recounts how when J. H. Williams received his son’s picture he rated it “as good as a short visit.”

In her letters of 1849, Sabrina Swain of Ohio whose husband had gone prospecting in California, likewise thought she “never saw anything but life look more natural;”

Sunday evening, April 15, 1849

Dear, dear William, I want very much to describe my feelings as near as I can , but in doing so I hope not to crucify yours. I feel as though I was alone in the world . The night you left home I did not, nor could not, close my eyes to sleep. Sis slept very well, awoke in the morning, and looked over at me seemingly to welcome a spree with her father, but to her disappointment the looked-for one was absent. She appears very lonesome, and seems to miss you very much. She is very troublesome and will not go to anyone , but cries after me and clings to me more than ever.

I received your daguerrian …. I think I never saw anything but life look more natural. I showed it to Little Cub, and to my astonishment and pleasure she appeared to recognize it. She put her finger on it, looked up at me and laughed, put her face down to yours, and kissed it several times in succession. Every time it comes in her sight she will cry after it.

William, if I had known that I could not be more reconciled to your absence than I am, I never could have consented to your going . However, I will try to reconcile myself as well as I can, believing God will order all things for the best.

Sabrina

Henkin provides several other illustrations. “Thanks to the inventer [sic] who brings yourself in imagination present with me,” a Jonathan Locke wrote to his wife in 1850, while a miner apologised to his sweetheart that “I am only sorry that it is not the original that is to go and the likeness to remain,” while his fiancee received the portrait with “unexpected joy” observing that her absent beloved “could have sent-nothing but yourself that would have been half so acceptable.” Another told his wife that he stared at her likeness “generally when I go to bed and when I rise. . . . I enjoy looking at you much.”

I too thank my partner for such a gift. Through the aged image-object, a unique specimen of a superseded technology, I can meditate on the life of its subject and the tangible medium through which she still exists.

8 thoughts on “December 28: Present

  1. Happy birthday James!! Hope things are going well…your blog as exciting as ever! I am now in La Digue, a small island we always go for Christmas…since…1985. My god!! Anyway, I hope you come to Barcelona one time so we can meet. A big birthday hug Max

    > El 29 dic 2019, a las 15:56, On This Date in Photography: by James Mcardle escribió: > > >

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you for your kind wishes and compliments! La Digue looks so beautiful and I wish you every happiness there for your holidays and for an exciting New Year…a new decade! James

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  2. Happy birthday! As a daguerreotype collector for more than 50 years, it’s my opinion that you have a lovely American daguerreotype in an American case. It may have been brought to France generations ago by a family move, but more likely was purchased by someone in France more recently as daguerreotypes are scarcer there than in the US market. (While we’re at it, “solarised” refers to something entirely different than the reflective quality of the plate– it’s a reversal phenomenon from overexposure — it makes white shirtfronts turn blue, causing less-talented daguerreotypists to be known as “blue-bosom operators”)

    Do you know about The Daguerreian Society? You can find fellow enthusiasts and discover a whole universe of amazing daguerreian imagery — online at http://www.daguerreiansociety.org

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    1. Thank you for writing, daguerre1839, and for the birthday wishes. Yes, I often visit http://www.daguerreiansociety.org and admire its work. I wondered at the girl’s dress and particularly the fabric as being perhaps American, though—and fully knowing their rarity—I had hoped for a French daguerreotype. I realise the use of ‘solarised’ in regard to a daguerreotype is rather loose, as in bromide printing it is the re-exposure of the film or paper during development, and hence my inverted commas, but how else does a photographer conjure that uncanny fleeting reversal as the positive emerges from the negative as one slowly turns the plate in the light? For me, a photograph is a poetic form, not mere technology, but I appreciate your expertise, and wonder if you know a site where I can see the embossed cases in order to determine the provenance of the image? Best Wishes!

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      1. Mr. Mcardle, as Humpty Dumpty told Alice, you are free to use words to mean whatever you wish, but in this case “solarization” means something entirely different from your “loose” usage. It’s a very specific term — and you can see two beautiful examples of it on this page: (https://cahoonmuseum.org/exhibitions/through-the-looking-glass-daguerreotype/ ) above the heading “Blue-plate Specials”.

        I don’t claim to be an expert on Daguerreian-era clothing, but the late Joan Severa was one of the best — her book “My Likeness Taken” shows dozens of American daguerreotypes with comments on the clothing. Joan told me that women’s fashions changed rapidly during this period and the latest styles were introduced internationally through fashion plates — meaning very few differences from one country to another.

        While you seem certain your subject’s eyes are sad, I don’t see anything determinative of mourning customs in her clothing. And of course, we don’t know what color she was wearing because the daguerreotype was only sensitive to blue light. Red, for example, would appear jet black.

        Sorry, I don’t know of any online resource for identifying cases. The current bible on the subject is Paul K. Berg’s “Nineteenth Century Photographic Cases and Wall Frames”. However, with only a few exceptions (e.g., some oval cases covered in velvet) the French did not put their daguerreotype portraits into folding cases derived from those meant for painted miniatures. Instead, the vast majority of French daguerreotypes were delivered to the customer glazed and framed, with paper mats or reverse-painted cover glasses, in a style known as “passe-partout”.

        I hope this information is helpful and will close with a warning against purchasing a second daguerreotype. That will make you a collector, and — take it from one who knows — it is a very difficult addiction to break!

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  3. Very interesting article, tying in with my current preoccupation with the connection of photography to sculpture – the image-object you mention chimes with my belief that all analogue photos have a direct connection to the material world of objects rather than the perceptual world of paintings. And dagguerotypes are a prime example of this as unique two-dimensional sculptures with a powerfully direct voice.

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