Anphitheatre in Pompei 1865

Editor: Here we have Roberto Rive’s "Amphitheatre in Pompei," a gelatin-silver print from 1865. It feels...stark. All that empty space. It’s like the silence of the ruins is amplified. What do you see in this image? Curator: Well, it is precisely that silence, and its *production*, that intrigues me. Rive is not just documenting a site, but actively constructing a certain image of it for consumption. The gelatin-silver printing process allowed for mass production and widespread distribution of these images as stereoviews, tourist souvenirs. Editor: Souvenirs? So, it's less about art and more about commerce? Curator: It's about both! Consider the labor involved: mining the silver, manufacturing the photographic plates, the photographer's own work on site. All that so Victorians could "own" a piece of Pompeii, filtered and framed for their domestic consumption. It creates an illusion, almost like it's staged. What does the location being staged do for commerce? Editor: I see, staging the location must’ve drawn more tourism due to the beauty captured in that one moment. And you can really feel the weight of the volcanic rock they would have used for the amphitheater’s structure! But does focusing so much on materials take away from the historical importance? Curator: Not at all. It *adds* to it. This image *is* history – a record of 19th-century tourism and its impact on how we perceive and understand antiquity. This image would've commodified the location even further, through the ease and comfort in accessing it. Editor: That's fascinating. It makes me see it in a completely different light. It's no longer just a picture; it's a commodity, a product of its time. Curator: Exactly. The materials tell a story that transcends the image itself. They speak of labour, access, and the insatiable appetite for the past made accessible.