South from Ames, North Elba c. 1888

Editor: This is "South from Ames, North Elba" by Seneca Ray Stoddard, taken around 1888. It’s a gelatin-silver print of two children standing in a large open field. The vastness almost makes them seem lost or lonely. What do you see in this piece? Curator: I see a landscape pregnant with the politics of expansion and identity in late 19th-century America. Think about the concept of Manifest Destiny that was still very much a part of the American psyche then. The children, so small in the face of this enormous landscape, embody the idea of innocence being thrust into a world being rapidly reshaped. Who owned that land before? What stories are suppressed by this seemingly placid vista? Editor: So, it’s not just a pretty picture. Curator: Exactly! The emptiness isn’t just visual. It’s a void created by erasure, by displacement. Consider the deliberate framing of the children. Are they explorers, or are they inheritors of a stolen legacy? Editor: I see your point. The “American Dream” was being built on someone else's nightmare. Curator: Precisely! And photography at this time becomes a tool to both document and propagate this vision. Landscape photography, particularly, was instrumental in shaping a particular narrative of ownership and dominion. Can you imagine this scene from the perspective of the Native population? Editor: No, I hadn’t considered that. Now the image has a different feel. More haunting. Curator: That tension, that discomfort, is precisely what makes this photograph so compelling, and so important to unpack today. It asks us to confront the narratives we've inherited and to question the silences within them. Editor: I'll never look at a landscape the same way again! Curator: That’s the goal! To keep questioning.