Heuvel in het Viktoriapark in Kreuzberg, Berlijn 1868 - 1870

Curator: Before us we have Johann Friedrich Stiehm's "Heuvel in het Viktoriapark in Kreuzberg, Berlijn," a gelatin silver print dating from 1868 to 1870. What are your initial thoughts? Editor: Bleakly beautiful. It's all muted tones and that little sliver of what looks like a snowy path. But it’s overshadowed by that looming structure at the top, giving off an almost…oppressive vibe. Curator: Interesting. I see the structures as indicative of Romanticism's fascination with ruins, decay, and the sublime power of nature overcoming civilization. Do you get any sense of the period from its construction? Editor: You know, initially I didn’t. It seemed timeless in its muted palette. Now that you mention it, the structures almost look like stage scenery – creating a romantic tableau but from an increasingly estranged perspective. It is kind of melancholic. Curator: Absolutely. The composition guides the eye, the slope mirroring a deeper yearning, reflecting perhaps anxieties about urbanization during the late 19th century. The image itself has that stereoscopic effect too—enhancing depth. Editor: It feels almost claustrophobic because of that framing. The "Berlin and Potsdam" printed on the sides almost feels too on the nose with its directness, y’know? It kills any of that nice symbolic buildup. The effect overall reminds me how easy it is to view parks and places like this nostalgically today—conveniently forgetting some of the complexities underneath. Curator: A thoughtful observation, really underscoring how Stiehm's photographs document the nascent tension between natural preservation and urban development in Berlin. And the stark reality of history that they now represent. Editor: Precisely. What starts as picturesque becomes almost… sinister with time. Thanks for pointing that out to me.