Laigh Kirk Close 1868

Editor: Here we have Thomas Annan's gelatin-silver print, "Laigh Kirk Close," created in 1868. The deep shadows and the stark, narrow passage create this almost claustrophobic feeling, like stepping back in time. What resonates with you when you look at this work? Curator: It's the weight of history, isn't it? The stones whisper stories of centuries. For me, it's like peering into a secret world, a sliver of old Glasgow resisting the march of modernity. The geometric composition, almost brutal in its angles, guides your eye down that tunnel of time, daring you to enter. Do you feel drawn in, despite the darkness? Editor: Absolutely, there’s a strange pull. The woman standing in the middle distance – is she just passing by, or does she symbolize something more? Curator: Ah, the figure! Perhaps she is a ghost of Glasgow's past, forever caught between the stones. Annan wasn't just documenting; he was capturing the soul of a vanishing world. Notice how the light, so limited, picks out those details - a fragile human presence against the immovability of stone. Does that tension speak to you? Editor: It does, definitely. It makes me wonder about the lives lived within those walls, the contrast between their fleeting existence and the city's enduring presence. I didn't expect a cityscape to feel so... personal. Curator: Exactly! Annan invites us to become urban explorers, to get lost in the forgotten corners of our cities, and perhaps, to find a little piece of ourselves reflected in their shadows. It’s a powerful reminder that history isn’t just something we read about – it's a living, breathing presence all around us.