Microscopische opname van een vliegenoog, 170 keer vergroot 1887 - 1888

Curator: Right now, we’re looking at “Microscopic image of a fly’s eye, magnified 170 times,” a gelatin silver print made around 1887-1888 by Marinus Pieter Filbri. Editor: Woah! My first thought is "prison cell," or maybe the inside of a disco ball, depending on my mood, I suppose. It has such a stark geometry. Curator: That geometry comes from the fly's compound eye. Consider the intense labor—not just the artistic vision, but also the preparation of the photographic plates, the darkroom processes. Think about how meticulous that work must have been! Editor: It’s incredible. And strange, considering its photorealistic effect with the almost-abstract feel to it. How does science become… art? This blend almost feels like neo-impressionism met still-life. Curator: Photography, then still quite new, offered an unparalleled capacity for documentation. Here, Filbri merges art, craft, and science—a really interesting interplay. And look at the material—gelatin silver print gives a really wide tonal range, those subtle grays make each little facet so distinct. Editor: That makes me wonder about accessibility, too. Was this image only for the scientific community, or was it intended for a wider audience? The print itself makes me think of the democratization of information. Before photography, who could've seen this in such clarity? Curator: Exactly! Its creation and display speak to broader social trends—increasing scientific literacy, the growing popularity of photography, and that merging of artistic and scientific exploration. Editor: A fly’s eye as social commentary? Perhaps I'm buzzing a little too hard on this piece. But truly, from gelatin silver to societal reflections, who knew a fly's eye could reveal so much? Curator: A perfect distillation of technique, subject, and its unique historical moment. What a rewarding way to close our time here.