Onderstellen 1945 - 1950

Editor: So, this gelatin silver print, "Onderstellen," was captured sometime between 1945 and 1950 by Lo Khing Tong. The sharp lines and the industrial setting really strike me—almost feels a bit lonely despite all the machinery. What story do you think it's trying to tell, or perhaps even conceal? Curator: Lonely is an interesting reading; I can sense that. The stark black and white lends it a sort of… distant objectivity, don’t you think? There's a beauty, yes, but also something alienating about the repetition. It prompts questions about the role of individuals in a machine-dominated landscape. A cog in the system, if you will. I wonder, does that industrial scene speak to you of progress, or something else? Editor: Something else, I think. Maybe it's the aftermath feeling that hangs in the air, knowing it was taken right after the war. There’s a quietness that speaks volumes. Is it wrong of me to look at the individual people and wonder about how the grind may have affected them? Curator: Absolutely not. To me it is all about seeing beyond the iron. Each worker has dreams, ambitions, disappointments. A lifetime happening alongside the clanging metal and sparking lights. Tong invites us, I feel, to look closer at this tension, this juxtaposition. Is this about documenting the machine, or humanity's quiet dance within its walls? Editor: So it's more about framing that reality rather than just recording the equipment, maybe? It’s heavy and it is thought-provoking to consider. Curator: Exactly. It's about making us question the cost, or maybe celebrate the strength, of that shared history. I find my thoughts pulled by my own interpretation and feelings each time.