La Treille Possibly 1847 - 1965

Curator: Right now we are standing in front of a wonderful landscape photograph, made using a paper negative by Hippolyte Bayard titled "La Treille," thought to have been produced somewhere between 1847 and 1965. It's a black and white scene now held in the collection of the Art Institute of Chicago. Editor: The photograph possesses an air of a long-forgotten memory. There’s a stark simplicity, a silent story etched in the grayscale of gardening tools and a flourishing grape vine. Curator: I agree. Looking closely, you'll find garden tools like a rake and watering can, interspersed with potted plants, all presented before an aged wall overrun by grape vines or “la treille.” Editor: It's all beautifully, classically arranged, yet it avoids feeling stiff. The grape vine above strikes me as more than decorative. Vines in art can be powerfully symbolic, suggesting life, growth, and even abundance. Their presence creates this impression of hidden energy and an inescapable life force. Curator: That makes me wonder whether this might have been from the artist's own garden, a space that would embody personal reflection and creative inspiration. This adds a layer of biographical relevance, framing it beyond a simple nature scene. The artist as a recorder of life's cyclical renewal. Editor: The scene is rich with associations—domesticity, nurture, cultivation. Yet, considering the uncertain dating of the image, its creation might signify more than mere representation. Photography was just developing at the time, its symbolic purpose was only beginning to grow, itself like a vine. Curator: Indeed. The details—the orderly structure of the trellis supporting the seemingly wild vine, the way light filters through the leaves casting gentle shadows on the weathered wall—creates such an introspective effect. Editor: Looking at it now, I am impressed by how deeply felt the moment must have been, translated with a unique stillness and quiet joy.