Portret van een zittende peuter 1883 - 1890

Editor: We're looking at a gelatin-silver print from somewhere between 1883 and 1890, titled "Portret van een zittende peuter," or "Portrait of a Sitting Toddler," by Albert Greiner. The baby's got a very serious expression, holding a walking stick – almost like a tiny old man! It’s kind of adorable and a bit… unsettling. What do you see in this piece? Curator: Ah, yes. This little sage! Look at the formality, the studied pose, perched upon what appears to be a rustic stump, yet clutching that impossibly grown-up cane. Isn't it fascinating how photography in this era sought to elevate itself to the status of painting? They tried to capture some kind of enduring essence. Editor: Right, it feels so posed and deliberate, not candid at all! Was that common for the time? Curator: Absolutely. Early photography was a performance, a ritual. Think about it: long exposure times, the cost, the solemnity. This image, for me, speaks volumes about the aspirations of the parents, the desire to capture something meaningful of their child. What were they hoping to convey to posterity, I wonder? Was it strength, virtue, wealth? Maybe just simply existence? The beauty of it is, of course, it allows you to project your own experiences on to the picture, a reflection that never fades. What do *you* feel when you look at this? Editor: It makes me think about how we try to control narratives even when a subject like a toddler might have no clue what's going on! It’s interesting to think about the contrast with our endless stream of digital snaps nowadays, no planning necessary. Curator: Precisely! We see the past anew when we dare to look. I've noticed things in this picture that weren't here before. How amazing is that?