Gezicht op Cathedral Peak in Californië before 1868

Curator: Before us we have a striking gelatin-silver print titled "Gezicht op Cathedral Peak in Californië," created by W. Harris before 1868. Editor: It's incredibly still, almost eerie. The light seems trapped, doesn’t it? Like time itself is holding its breath. Curator: That stillness is partly a product of the photographic techniques available at the time. Early photography often required long exposure times, dictating a still subject matter. Its realism spoke volumes of western expansion, and notions of manifest destiny at the time. Editor: Right. So, it's not just a landscape, it’s a statement. These photographs provided visual justification for settlers claiming these "empty" spaces. This wilderness, stripped of its Indigenous narrative and made 'available.’ Curator: Precisely. Photographers like Harris were actively shaping perception. They influenced political policy about land use, access, and inevitably, exploitation. What we see here, technically a landscape, plays a central role in a larger history of dispossession and resource extraction. Editor: And even the seemingly neutral act of documentation is loaded. Consider how many indigenous voices were actively silenced so that Harris’s perspective became dominant? How was California depicted to Europeans during this period? Curator: And consider how the formal qualities of the photograph reinforce this narrative. The framing emphasizes the grandeur, encouraging viewers to see it as something to possess, to tame. Editor: So, viewing it now demands we reckon with the historical power dynamics baked into its very existence. It's a powerful, albeit unsettling, reminder of art's complicity, and the colonial gaze. Curator: Absolutely. These landscapes became pivotal marketing tools. They served as advertising campaigns for settlers. Editor: I'll carry this history as I consider the next artworks during our tour, I have never seen it in this light. Curator: The implications resonate still.