Edinburgh. Greyfriars' Churchyard 1843 - 1847

Curator: What strikes me first is how hushed this scene feels. The sepia tones seem to mute the world. Editor: And it really does evoke a quietude. We’re looking at “Edinburgh. Greyfriars' Churchyard,” a daguerreotype by Hill and Adamson, created between 1843 and 1847. It's an early example of photography finding its feet, isn't it? Curator: Absolutely. These guys were pioneers, weren’t they? It feels timeless and yet very much rooted in that specific era of burgeoning industry and stark social divisions. You see those figures clustered by the gravestone; the weariness practically radiates from them. I mean, just feel the narrative tension, of different figures gravitating around the gravity of the gravestone. Editor: Indeed. Notice how Hill and Adamson position the working-class man, almost as an emblem of toil, juxtaposed against the pensive, educated gentleman with his notepad. The cemetery is almost a social stage, a backdrop against which societal roles are being played out, or maybe even questioned. The class is in session, in a graveyard—it sounds about right. Curator: And the architecture—that carved stone, it feels simultaneously grand and decayed, like the memories themselves etched in rock. I am always humbled when gazing at old architecture—and it is all about gazing; nobody does a close up inspection. Editor: Yes, there is something almost theatrical about the lighting too, how it picks out the carvings. This location itself--a gothic scene. One of the oldest, eeriest graveyards. You almost think about the museum acquiring this and adding another layer of history into this photographic depiction. Curator: The longer I look, the more I see layers and shadows and ghostly resonances...it speaks of the fleetingness of time and the permanence of stories. Editor: Agreed, an exquisite meditation on mortality, memory, and the quiet drama of everyday life. And all those histories layered together in one sepia image.