Gilmorehill before 1878

Curator: This fascinating gelatin-silver print is titled "Gilmorehill" and it was captured by Thomas Annan some time before 1878. I am always moved by how Annan, using the technology of the time, manages to freeze a little piece of history. Editor: My first impression? Stark beauty. A building looms, solid and proud, almost defiant against a bleached-out sky. It is heavy with stories and whispers from generations past, would you not agree? Curator: I see that defiance too, but I also read melancholy. There's a certain solitude in this image. Annan captures this grand structure isolated. Editor: Yes, its placement almost suggests isolation. And its monumentality speaks volumes, it hints at more than what is seen here, right? I like how Annan frames Gilmorehill from a slightly low angle, accentuating its height, but also its somewhat daunting stature. The sharp architectural planes juxtaposed with the softness of the silver gelatin—the photo’s surfaces—make this visually compelling, in a semiotic sense, I suppose, giving two distinct qualities to its aesthetic appearance. Curator: The choice of medium is crucial, wouldn’t you say? A gelatin-silver print lends this almost ghostly quality. You sense the weight of time etched into its very surfaces and structure, almost haunting, perhaps? Editor: Indeed. Time has this interesting effect. That heavy stonework probably weighs differently, symbolically, as opposed to, let's say, new construction of steel and glass. But yes, its gray-scale offers a glimpse of what the world looked like over a hundred years ago; each subtle gray tone breathes a little narrative, wouldn't you agree? Curator: Precisely, It gives it this otherworldly air, right? Annan doesn't just record Gilmorehill; he creates an almost elegiac poem with it, you know? Editor: True. His picture-making skill reveals his love for geometric forms while he gives us much to decode… Thanks, Annan!