Dale Creek Crossing nabij Sherman, Wyoming 1876 - 1880

Curator: Here we have "Dale Creek Crossing near Sherman, Wyoming," an albumen print from around 1876-1880, taken by George W. Thorne. Editor: Wow, there's such an eerie quiet about this image. It almost feels like a stage set – that bridge looks utterly surreal dropped into this rugged, rocky landscape. Curator: Well, bridges are always powerful symbols, linking disparate worlds, conquering natural obstacles… But look at this bridge specifically, how its ordered, repetitive structure contrasts with the unruly rocks. Notice how they’ve included those tiny human figures. They provide a sense of scale but also evoke a deeper contemplation about man's dominion over nature. Editor: It’s as if they're daring the wilderness, or maybe they're questioning if they're dwarfed by it all? What is that bridge exactly spanning? Curator: The Dale Creek Canyon, part of the Union Pacific Railroad. Consider it as the spine of nation building, carrying ideas and goods east to west. These landscape photographs of the time offered proof, convincing hesitant audiences, of Manifest Destiny being enacted in real-time. Editor: And that's why those figures seem posed, symbolic? They're emblems of this whole idea? I keep coming back to that imposing bridge—I mean it seems impossible that wood and wire held up under such weight back then, especially when you can feel the force of nature coming right at you from the foreground! Curator: Precisely. Thorne's albumen print acts as more than documentation; it is an endorsement. Bridges aren't merely functional crossings. Bridges were evidence of modernity being imposed onto the vast emptiness. A transformation from wilderness to settlement—with all the repercussions, intended and unintended. Editor: And that’s what makes this quiet photo feel like a challenge. Even now, knowing the costs, we're standing on a bridge, considering our next move. It looks stunning but carries so much baggage. Curator: Yes. And photography holds that weight so beautifully, doesn’t it?