De berg Moesala, tijdens een rondreis van Eugen Wachenheimer en zijn echtgenote Else Wachenheimer-Moos door Bulgarije, 1923-1928 1922 - 1923

Editor: This gelatin silver print captures "De berg Moesala, tijdens een rondreis van Eugen Wachenheimer en zijn echtgenote Else Wachenheimer-Moos door Bulgarije", created sometime between 1922 and 1923. It’s a pretty stark landscape. The tones are so muted and still… it almost feels like a scene from another planet. What catches your eye when you look at this, or maybe how does it speak to you? Curator: You know, it feels to me like looking back in time, a landscape viewed through the lens of memory itself. The photo has a way of transforming the concrete mountain, into this echo of journeys and experiences…it’s less about perfect topographical rendering, and more about feeling. Given the period—between world wars—what do you think Eugen Wachenheimer might have been searching for in these remote landscapes? Editor: Perhaps some escape, a sense of timelessness? It's definitely a world away from the anxieties of the era. I’m just wondering how he achieved such depth using early photographic techniques... Curator: Absolutely. And the depth probably emerges from a few clever visual devices. Notice the way the light catches the rocks in the foreground, inviting our eyes forward? And the layering effect? Mountains in the back that become this soft, ethereal background for all that sharp rocky texture down front. Do you think it evokes the experience of actually being in that space? Editor: I see that now. It does create that sense of space. The contrasting textures makes me want to feel the rock. Thanks, it’s interesting how it goes beyond just a documentary image into something much more personal. Curator: Absolutely. Art isn't about pure observation. The artist's soul finds itself subtly intertwined with the landscape, making something deeply human and enduring from earth and silver! It’s that quality that lingers.