Gezicht op de De Kerk van Onze Lieve Vrouwe ten Hemelopneming in Batavia c. 1920 - 1930

Editor: Here we have a gelatin silver print titled "Gezicht op de De Kerk van Onze Lieve Vrouwe ten Hemelopneming in Batavia" – or, "View of the Church of Our Lady of the Assumption in Batavia" – by Klaas Kleiterp, taken sometime between 1920 and 1930. It’s such a tranquil scene; the monochromatic palette makes the architecture seem so imposing against the expansive field. What stands out to you about this piece? Curator: Tranquil, yes, but there's also a curious sense of… stillness, wouldn't you agree? A holding of breath, almost. The church, monumental as it is, seems strangely isolated despite the trees suggesting a nearby town. What stories does this imposed grandeur tell us about the colonial gaze, do you think? It feels less about worship and more about…assertion. What do you make of the vast emptiness in the foreground? Editor: That's a good point. I was focusing on the tranquility, but I see what you mean about the stillness feeling almost…forced. And now that you mention the empty space, it does create a sense of distance, a kind of barrier between the viewer and the church itself. Perhaps symbolizing the separation between colonizer and colonized? Curator: Precisely! Kleiterp was working in a Dutch East Indies rife with tension. Is he capturing the imposed dominance? Or, maybe, revealing a quiet unease within that dominance, that’s a real possibility. A photograph can unintentionally hold so many buried feelings. It makes me wonder about the choice to drain all colour. Is it documentary? Is it distancing? Perhaps both? Editor: That's fascinating. I hadn't considered how the absence of colour could contribute to the feeling of distance. Curator: Right? Colour pulls us in; its absence prompts reflection. Food for thought, definitely, that enhances our viewing. Editor: Definitely. Thanks, that's given me a totally different perspective on this photograph.