Gezicht op Brighton met strand before 1892

Curator: What strikes me first is the sheer ordinariness of the scene captured in this albumen print, "Gezicht op Brighton met strand" or "View of Brighton with beach." We know it was captured before 1892 by Carl Horny. I'm drawn in, not by grandeur, but by its intimate scale—like a found photograph tucked inside an old book. It's in such incredible shape, really showcasing this paper-based medium, even featuring some writing printed just beneath the photo itself. What are your immediate thoughts? Editor: Well, first of all, the sepia tones. They make me think of lost time, like sifting through an ancestor's belongings. The little figures on the beach become everyone and no one. Do you feel the kind of melancholy it casts over everything? Curator: Yes, the albumen print lends this incredibly unique tone. Beyond that first flush of emotion, I keep noticing the paper. Aged paper like this, whether accidental or intentional, seems to evoke certain periods, connecting us materially to the past and subtly encoding the work with that memory. This, juxtaposed with the seaside scene—the universal escape—lends it such power. Editor: That's interesting... encoding is a really precise word for it. So this beach is Brighton. It is fascinating that every detail has been captured, so precise that you really feel like you were walking alongside Carl. What did they use to do the "framing" around the actual picture. Almost looks like something you could find on canva, funny isn't it? I wonder about the function of that line around the photo in this book, this album. The border feels deliberate, less a physical boundary and more of a way to set it off against other elements, to distinguish, even sanctify it in some way. Curator: Well, it also draws the eye towards the photo, guiding us through the frame, it provides it with purpose. Editor: Purpose. And intention. Curator: Absolutely. Now I just want to escape to this vision of Brighton, maybe as Horny did over a century ago. It captures such fleeting, almost melancholic vibes. Editor: And those waves! Something about their silence, eternally fixed, stirs a longing for what was. Like this dialogue—a meeting of minds across time—the art lingers in memory.