Hotel c. 1887

Curator: What a gem, a hand-colored albumen print called "Hotel" by Adolfo Farsari, taken in Japan. The Harvard Art Museums have this one. Editor: I'm immediately drawn to the muted tones, a kind of sepia dream. It feels both familiar and utterly distant, like a memory half-recalled. Curator: Farsari was quite the entrepreneur, setting up a studio in Yokohama and catering to the Western tourist trade. This image, with its meticulously hand-applied color, speaks to a desire for exoticism, wouldn't you say? Editor: Absolutely, the rickshaws lined up out front—those are potent symbols of transit and cultural exchange. But also, the architecture itself, a layered, tiered structure, reminds me of stages in a theatrical production. Curator: Interesting perspective! The eye is led upwards, through those stacked balconies. I feel a gentle invitation to step inside, to become a player in this serene drama. Editor: It's more than just a building, isn't it? It's a portal. A preserved moment in time, touched by a subtle, artistic longing. Curator: Yes, perhaps that's the essence of the photograph, to freeze a moment that forever whispers stories.