De eerste foto genomen door Isabel Wachenheimer van haar kindermeisje, Engelberg en het zwembad te Schwerin, augustus 1935, Engelberg (Zwitserland) 1935 - 1938

Editor: So, this gelatin-silver print, dating from 1935-1938, is entitled "The first photo taken by Isabel Wachenheimer of her nanny, Engelberg and the swimming pool in Schwerin, August 1935, Engelberg (Switzerland)." I’m struck by its casual, almost snapshot-like quality despite being meticulously placed in a photo album. What do you see in the placement of these personal photographs, a sort of private memorial? Curator: I see echoes of visual memory meticulously constructed. It’s not just the subject matter – a nanny, landscapes – but how they're arranged. The juxtaposition, the handwritten notes, suggests a yearning to preserve not just an image but also a feeling, a connection to place and person. Editor: I didn't consider the album itself part of the art. Curator: The album *is* the art, wouldn't you agree? The landscapes symbolize perhaps a sense of stability, while the nanny, in that posed yet candid shot, speaks of a more intimate, personal bond. Consider, too, the socio-political context of the late 1930s. What could these images signify in that climate? Editor: Perhaps these were memories the family felt they would not be able to make anymore, a remembrance of happier times. Are the locations important to that theory? Curator: Switzerland, particularly Engelberg, held a position of safety. Could these photos represent a symbolic gesture, an attempt to hold onto a familiar way of life? Editor: This makes me wonder if the album itself became a symbol of home, even when physical home was no longer accessible. Curator: Exactly! The act of curation itself becomes a powerful symbol of resilience. Preserving cultural and personal memories is the primary value. Editor: I’ll never look at a family photo album the same way again. It's incredible how much a simple snapshot can reveal about the human condition.