Westelijk front van de kathedraal van York c. 1860 - 1880

Editor: Here we have a photograph titled "Westelijk front van de kathedraal van York," created by James Valentine sometime between 1860 and 1880. It’s a gelatin-silver print currently held at the Rijksmuseum. The sheer scale of the cathedral is striking; it really dominates the scene. What’s your take on it? Curator: It's a stunning example of how photography, even in its relative infancy, could capture not only detail but also a sense of grandeur, wouldn't you agree? Think of the dedication involved, setting up a large-format camera to freeze this spectacle in time. Notice how the composition emphasizes the cathedral’s height, almost scraping the sky. It suggests a silent, looming presence. The Victorian era had this particular fascination with architectural marvels – they saw cathedrals as evidence of a divinely-ordered universe. I wonder, what feeling does that evoke for you? Editor: It's impressive, certainly. I hadn't really considered the divine aspect – I was just focusing on the technical skill. It seems so clear for a photograph from that time period. Curator: Exactly. This clarity makes you almost feel present, right? What looks different from present day, if you were standing there? And think about the photographer making the photo itself – almost akin to a religious act to reveal a perfect structure. Does that give you a different sensation? Editor: That’s an interesting angle, actually. It reframes my entire perspective on it. Thank you! Curator: My pleasure! Isn't it amazing how even one little shift in perspective can unveil a whole new dimension of appreciation for a work of art?