Portret van een peuter, staand op een stoel 1887 - 1900

Editor: This is "Portrait of a Toddler Standing on a Chair," a gelatin-silver print by Oscar Strensch, sometime between 1887 and 1900. It’s surprisingly formal for a child’s portrait; almost regal in a miniature way. What strikes you when you look at this image? Curator: The seriousness, definitely. Look at those eyes – so direct! Strensch has captured a peculiar blend of childish innocence and a posed, almost adult, demeanor. I wonder, what was it like to be dressed and positioned like this back then? We have no indication of this moment of childhood, it looks like an archetype to me, or an object. Editor: An object? That sounds a little harsh. Curator: Maybe! But also sweet, you know? There's a stark contrast, this formal setting imposed upon a toddler just discovering their own little legs. It's like watching a butterfly pinned in a cabinet; strangely beautiful and terribly sad at once. Does it perhaps mirror the societal constraints placed upon children, or even photography's own nascent ambition to freeze life, to hold it still and make it ours forever? Editor: I hadn't thought of the idea of “freezing” this image in that way. So maybe photography becomes the villain in the piece? Curator: Or, a more playful thought: maybe the chair isn’t sturdy, and the seriousness comes from the kiddo simply trying hard not to topple over? I mean, the prop is constructed from delicate twigs, adding a sense of whimsy to an otherwise stiff portrait. Look! Even the trim on the little dress hints at playfulness! Editor: Ah, okay, I see! Maybe the formality is just a game? It opens my eyes when I learn to recognize an intent which goes far beyond documentation. Thanks. Curator: My pleasure. Thinking of art as an invitation rather than a closed book always keeps things lively, wouldn’t you agree?