Rietcarrier 1917 - 1938

Editor: Here we have Otto Hisgen's "Rietcarrier," a gelatin-silver print from between 1917 and 1938. The photograph plunges us into an industrial space. I’m struck by the contrast between the rigid geometry of the machinery and the almost chaotic piles of what looks like hay. What story do you think Hisgen is trying to tell here? Curator: Ah, "Rietcarrier"! To me, this image sings of the often overlooked beauty within industry, a place where humanity wrestles raw materials into being. Hisgen, bless his lens, invites us to peer into a world that is both functional and surprisingly dreamlike. The man, almost lost against the backdrop, guides my gaze. Look how his stance echoes the lines of the machinery. It's like a ballet of man and machine, don’t you think? Editor: A ballet? I hadn’t considered that! I saw a sort of grimness. Curator: Grimness, yes, perhaps a layer. But peek deeper. Doesn't the light catch the straw in a way that makes you feel it's not just raw material, but something with its own humble grace? It's the poetry of labor. And tell me, does that blend of nature and machine make you consider our place in the landscape of industry? Editor: That’s true. Now that you point it out, there's a kind of quiet dignity in his work, and the materials he works with. Curator: Exactly! Art often hides in plain sight. What starts as documentation blossoms into a reflection of ourselves, caught in the gears of progress. Don't you just adore when that happens? Editor: I think I do now. I'll never look at industrial photography the same way again!