(11) [Naksh-i Rustam] 1840 - 1869

Editor: Here we have a photograph entitled "(11) [Naksh-i Rustam]", snapped sometime between 1840 and 1869. What strikes me immediately is the scale—it's hard to grasp how immense this architectural feat carved into the rock face really is. What do you notice in this work? Curator: For me, it's the echo of impermanence captured by Pesce. Here is ancient majesty, fixed in a then-modern medium. The photograph itself, destined to fade, mirroring the slow erosion of the carvings. You almost feel time folding in on itself, doesn't it? It reminds us that everything, even stone and photographs, eventually return to dust. Editor: That's beautifully put. I hadn’t considered the photograph itself as part of that story. Curator: Exactly! Photography tries to defy time, to preserve, but even it is subject to the inevitable. Look closely, you can almost see the light itself, trapped. It has travelled such a distance to reach our eyes in this instant. Hasn't it? Tell me what stories does that light suggest? Editor: Thinking about the journey that light has gone through is making me rethink my views of this picture. I'm used to thinking that only paint can carry stories and time. Thanks for helping me see that photography can be more than just a click. Curator: Art constantly teaches us to readjust, to reconsider, that our understanding evolves. It’s like watching the clouds change shape – something new every time you look. Editor: Thanks, that's a lovely way of seeing it!