Elinor and Lucy Llewelyn 1853 - 1856

Curator: Right in front of us, we have "Elinor and Lucy Llewelyn," a gelatin-silver print crafted between 1853 and 1856 by John Dillwyn Llewelyn. Editor: It feels almost ghostly. The soft focus and muted tones lend it an ethereal quality, like a half-remembered dream of childhood. What strikes me is this beautiful textural counterpoint – that rigid stone wall and window right behind the gentle tartan wool. Curator: Precisely! Llewelyn, with his roots in both science and art, really demonstrates that tension. He was fascinated by the alchemy of photography – taking ordinary scenes of his daughters and elevating them into almost painterly compositions. The rough wheelbarrow, for instance. It’s not just happenstance; it’s carefully staged. Editor: Yes, there's a studied quality here. It highlights that complex negotiation between the labour inherent in photography and artmaking and the consumer object that is portraiture, especially for privileged families in the 19th century. How long must the young girls have stood in their hats? Curator: And the wool production of the costumes they wear...you know, Llewelyn also captured the raw industrial output of Swansea and south Wales around this time. Here, we only glimpse its effect upon privileged people! Editor: And doesn't this image resonate today, with the labor it took to create? The physical limitations of early photography – the long exposure times and cumbersome equipment. Today, our smartphone photos feel throwaway. It’s remarkable how much that adds a layer of contemplation now. We see the materials used as an active agent. Curator: Absolutely. There's a fragility there, isn't there? Like looking at a butterfly pinned under glass. We're capturing a fleeting moment of innocence, made more potent by the awareness of its technological constraints and materiality. Editor: I’m glad it survives – from gelatin and silver to the gallery wall – reminding us about where photography started! Curator: A ghostly beginning, indeed, hinting at the intricate layers of time, memory, and making.