Untitled by Lewis Hine

gelatin-silver-print

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gelatin-silver-print

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light pencil work

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wedding photograph

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photo restoration

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colourisation

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charcoal drawing

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archive photography

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charcoal art

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historical photography

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old-timey

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19th century

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united-states

Dimensions: 4 5/8 x 6 1/2 in. (11.75 x 16.51 cm) (image, sheet)

Copyright: No Copyright - United States

Curator: What hits me immediately is this stark contrast: soft, fluffy cotton filling the frame, yet a palpable sense of constraint and bleakness hangs in the air. Editor: You've nailed it. This arresting photograph, simply titled "Untitled", was captured around 1910 by Lewis Hine. It's a gelatin-silver print residing here at the Minneapolis Institute of Art, and it speaks volumes about the era. Curator: Hine had a real talent for finding beauty in the most unsettling of places, didn't he? The composition is deceptively simple. Your eye is drawn to that monstrous mound of cotton—it’s like a cloud fallen to earth—but then you notice the boys... Editor: Exactly. The image isn’t just about the cotton; it's about the labor that produced it, particularly the labor of children. Hine's photographs were instrumental in the fight against child labor. This image serves as evidence and a form of protest. Curator: There's a stillness, too. Not the kind you find in peaceful landscapes. More like the hush before a storm or the quiet desperation in a crowded room. And look at their faces – they’re so young, so worn… you can see childhood being stolen. Editor: And the industrial setting looms over them. The machinery isn’t just background; it’s a silent, imposing presence. It suggests the relentless forces driving this system and the vulnerability of those caught within it. You know, Hine didn’t just document, he advocated. He used his camera as a tool for social reform. Curator: He offered humanity a glimpse into something we so readily ignored. Looking at their faces, the weight of it all just floods in. They're not just working, they're carrying the future on their small shoulders. It's a portrait of resilience against crushing circumstances, perhaps. Editor: Perhaps, and a stark reminder that progress often comes at a price. Thanks to Hine's efforts, we remember the true cost. Curator: Thank you for pointing that out, I never paid such close attention to the details. Editor: Anytime, really good insights can change a life.

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