Solitude Hivernale (Winter Solitude) c. 1930

Editor: Here we have Édit-Claire Gérin's gelatin-silver print, "Solitude Hivernale," circa 1930. It feels stark, almost ghostly, with those bare trees and empty benches. I'm curious, what strikes you about this work? Curator: Immediately, I'm drawn to the physical reality of this photograph. A gelatin-silver print; think about the industrial processes, the mining for silver, the labor involved in manufacturing the paper. And look how Gérin utilizes this process to depict…public benches. Who made those benches? From what materials? Who was allowed to sit on them in 1930? These details point to questions of class and access, made visible by the photograph itself. Editor: So, it's less about the "solitude" suggested by the title, and more about the system that creates spaces, and defines how people are allowed to occupy them? Curator: Precisely! Consider the contrast: The manufactured, carefully arranged park versus the "natural" world of the trees. Even nature here is curated, manicured. What does that say about society's relationship with its environment, both then and now? Editor: I never thought about a landscape photograph in terms of its production like that, but thinking about the materials needed for its manufacturing puts everything in a totally different perspective! Thanks. Curator: Absolutely. Focusing on the materials helps us move beyond the surface beauty and confront the social and economic forces at play. It offers us a richer understanding, I think.