Britse soldaat op een kanon in Pretoria, 4 juni 1901

Editor: Here we have a photograph from 1901, entitled "British soldier on a cannon in Pretoria, June 4th". It's a gelatin silver print, capturing a soldier from behind, kneeling by a large cannon. The scene feels quite stark and immediate, a bit like peering into a moment frozen in time. What catches your eye about this image? Curator: What a moment to capture, literally looking down the barrel of history, eh? I find myself wondering what he’s thinking, our khaki-clad protagonist. Is it pride? Trepidation? Boredom? Probably all three in rotation. The photographer, likely complicit in colonial narratives, perhaps never paused to ponder *his* perspective. Note also the stark realism. It’s not posed in the typical, glory-laden way we often see war depicted. The grit, the plainness…almost unsettling. Makes you wonder about the contrast with idealized war paintings of the era. Editor: It definitely feels like a more human and less glorified portrayal of warfare, I can see what you mean. But if the photographer *was* complicit, does that make it propaganda? Curator: Good question! I don't know, actually. Art exists, coexists, transcends… or even contradicts its intent. To me it looks like something stuck, undigested – a nation swallowing another’s resources with an uneasy stomach. What does it say to you? Editor: I’m left wondering about all the untold stories. It makes me think about the complexities of history, you know, beyond the official narrative. Thank you for pointing that out, it gave me something to think about. Curator: My pleasure! Isn’t it fabulous, that a sliver of silver halide and gelatin can unlock so many narratives!