Olga en Marba Titzenthaler, echtgenote en dochter van de fotograaf, in het woonhuis in de Friedrichstrasse, Berlijn Possibly 1912 - 1917

Editor: We're looking at "Olga en Marba Titzenthaler, echtgenote en dochter van de fotograaf, in het woonhuis in de Friedrichstrasse, Berlijn," a photograph by Waldemar Titzenthaler, likely taken between 1912 and 1917. There's such a quiet, domestic feel to it, almost dreamlike. What's your take on it? Curator: Quiet, yes, but I also sense a sort of contained energy, don't you think? The almost overwhelming amount of vegetation in the background versus the posed, contained figures… It speaks to the way the outside world encroached upon domestic life. I wonder what it felt like to live in that house at that time. Can you imagine? Editor: I can, and it does make the image feel very intimate, like we're peeking into a very private moment. Curator: Exactly! Titzenthaler, in many ways, turns the lens—both literally and figuratively—inward. Think about photography at the time—mostly stiff, formal portraits. Here, there’s a real softness, a yearning… it reminds me a little bit of German Expressionist painting, which was burgeoning around that time. You feel that too, I bet. Editor: I do. But it's also clearly posed; does that diminish the intimacy, or enhance it somehow? Curator: A good question. Perhaps it is about curating intimacy, about consciously creating an image of familial tenderness, an image for posterity—or perhaps even just for themselves. Think of it not as a "caught moment," but as a constructed reality of love in the shadow of looming uncertainty. A treasure for this family and a message from the past. Editor: So, it's not just a snapshot; it's a statement. Curator: Precisely. And it leaves you pondering, doesn’t it? All art should, even the seemingly simple black and white photographic kind. Editor: It really does. I appreciate the nuances you've brought to light. Curator: It's a photograph to live with, learn with. A world to look closer at, again and again.