Rue de la Chaise, Paris 1934

Editor: We're looking at Ilse Bing's "Rue de la Chaise, Paris" from 1934, a gelatin silver print. It feels quite mysterious to me – a lone streetlamp illuminating what seems to be an empty street. What do you see in this piece? Curator: The streetlamp immediately reads as a beacon. It suggests not just light, but the promise of safe passage, of revelation, especially during a time of considerable political and social darkness. It asks, "what do we choose to illuminate, and what do we leave in the shadows?" Bing, in many ways, sheds light on this dichotomy, presenting both clarity and concealment. The closed shutters flank the wall and the lamppost, creating a sort of altar. What do these architectural choices evoke for you? Editor: I suppose they heighten that sense of mystery – and maybe isolation. The windows are all shut. No one's home, perhaps. Are the shadows deliberate? Curator: The stark contrast certainly seems deliberate. Light and shadow are not merely aesthetic choices, but visual cues for complex narratives. Consider the weight of urban existence in the interwar period – a shared sense of unease and a desire for escapism. The lamp then might not only provide illumination, but stands as an eternal, almost divine witness, promising safety but unable to open those darkened windows. Do you see any elements which hint at human presence? Editor: Well, no people. But there's a wall, a building… Someone must have built that. It feels like a memory of people. Or maybe just an expectation. Curator: Exactly. It suggests human action, hinting at lingering presences despite the absence of figures. Perhaps Bing's enduring statement emphasizes memory. That lamp continues its solemn work of shedding light. Editor: I hadn’t thought of it that way – seeing the lamplight as memory. It really changes how I look at it.