Gezicht op de waterval Nedre Leirfoss bij Trondheim before 1897

Curator: Right now, we're looking at Wilhelm Dreesen's photograph, taken before 1897, called "Gezicht op de waterval Nedre Leirfoss bij Trondheim"—or, "View of the Nedre Leirfoss Waterfall near Trondheim." Editor: What a churning cascade! It's incredibly kinetic, like a symphony of grayscale captured on, what, a paper print? It's got a certain brute force. Curator: It is indeed a print, likely a photogravure, giving it that lovely tonal depth. Think about the process involved—the light interacting with the treated plate, the inking, the pressing…it's almost tactile. It speaks of a specific industrial and aesthetic moment. Editor: True. And speaking of tactility, the water itself almost feels icy. You know, waterfalls always feel a bit melancholy to me. All that power rushing by, never to return. It’s like a visual memento mori. Curator: I can see that. But also consider the broader cultural fascination with landscape, particularly waterfalls, in the late 19th century. It ties into ideas of the sublime, of nature's overwhelming force. Was this a commercial enterprise showcasing natural beauty, or a deeply felt communion with nature? I’d argue, perhaps, a bit of both. Editor: It certainly feeds the desire for wilderness…for an experience outside the smog of the modernising city. Someone would have carefully extracted that photographic negative from a specific landscape, transferred onto metal or wood, and re-presented. Curator: Precisely! Each step involved labor, material transformation, and choices that shaped our perception. We're witnessing not just a waterfall, but a cultural artifact of industry. Editor: Well, it makes you think about what we extract when we present it back to the world… That the process alters the meaning even of such natural displays is something I never fail to find interesting! Curator: Absolutely. Seeing it in this context enriches the original sense of wonder. Thank you.