Miss Annie Summerville, from the Actresses series (N245) issued by Kinney Brothers to promote Sweet Caporal Cigarettes 1890

Editor: This is "Miss Annie Summerville," a gelatin-silver print dating back to 1890 by Kinney Brothers Tobacco Company, part of their "Actresses" series. The sepia tone gives it a real sense of faded glamour. What strikes me most is how theatrical she looks, yet there's a fragility to the image itself. What's your take on it? Curator: Fragility and theatre – a delicious cocktail, don’t you think? The magic here is in how something meant to be ephemeral – a cigarette card! – now whispers of forgotten footlights and fleeting fame. It's less about *her* and more about the dream she embodies, isn’t it? Consider what this tiny card offered – a glimpse into a world both glamorous and unattainable. What kind of longing was it meant to ignite in the viewer? Editor: That's fascinating! I hadn't thought about it as being intentionally designed to spark longing. Was it typical to blur the lines between advertising and art like this? Curator: Oh, absolutely. Think of the Art Nouveau movement exploding onto the scene – Alphonse Mucha's posters, for instance. Commerce saw the power of art, and vice versa. It's a reciprocal seduction! Plus, the Pictorialist style aimed to elevate photography to high art by softening the focus and creating an almost painterly effect, blurring reality just enough to fuel fantasy. It was an attempt to give depth to mass media. Editor: So, the soft focus adds to the dreamlike quality? Curator: Precisely! It's less a portrait, and more a daydream *about* a portrait, sold with your cigarettes. How devilishly clever! Editor: Wow, it's so interesting to see how much meaning is packed into something that seems so simple at first glance. I'll never look at trading cards the same way again. Curator: My dear, that's the trick of it all, isn't it? To find the universe hiding in plain sight. Thanks for sharing the moment.