Untitled 1975

Editor: Here we have an Untitled gelatin silver print by David Levinthal, made in 1975. The black and white image seems to depict a chaotic battle scene, but there’s something… off about it. What do you see in this piece? Curator: I see echoes. This photograph, at first glance, delivers the immediate punch of conflict, that ingrained imagery of warfare, yet there's a potent undercurrent of artificiality. Do you perceive how the stark contrast renders the scene both immediate and strangely distant? Editor: I do, now that you mention it! It’s like a memory of a war movie, but grainy and staged. Curator: Precisely. It taps into our collective memory of war as constructed by cinema and photography. Consider how miniatures, almost toys, enact this profound drama. The landscape itself, shrouded in ambiguous mist, seems to recall battlefields we've only witnessed through media. It questions authenticity. Editor: So it’s not really about a specific war, but our idea of war? It's more of a symbol? Curator: Yes. Think about the enduring power of war photography and how it shapes public perception. This image utilizes those visual cues, playing on our learned emotional responses, challenging us to reflect on how our understanding of such events are constructed, mediated, perhaps even trivialized over time. What emotions are evoked in you? Editor: Initially, a vague sense of unease, maybe sadness, because of what it imitates. But then a detached feeling when I realise they’re toy figures and all becomes staged. Curator: That dissonance, that emotional push-and-pull, is central to its strength. It’s both a memorial and a critique. Editor: It really makes you question the images you see, the narratives you absorb. I appreciate how it gets to that emotional truth using toys, of all things. Curator: And that, my friend, is the captivating power of symbolic imagery.