Gezicht op de ruïnes van de Abdij van Sint-Bertinus in Sint-Omaars before 1883

Curator: Looking at this gelatin silver print, "View of the Ruins of the Abbey of Saint Bertin in Saint-Omer", created sometime before 1883, the first word that jumps to my mind is 'stark'. Editor: Stark, yes, that captures something. I also get a sense of poignant decay and yet resilience in this cityscape, doesn’t that high tower looming in the background give you that feeling? Curator: It certainly does. It’s amazing how photography at this time started becoming so integral in preserving images of architecture. The ruins aren't just depicted; they're framed within what seems like the evolving industrial context of the town, adding another layer to the narrative. I feel as if I am experiencing history not just viewing it. Editor: Precisely, and that is also what gives it an important socio-political element as a document. It captures the shift, right? You have the remnants of religious authority standing shoulder-to-shoulder, with the burgeoning industrial power structures – literally chimney-to-tower. Curator: It really invites contemplation, not just on the passage of time but the ever shifting sources of influence in our civilization. In a world that has seen photography shift completely into the realm of digital technology, seeing a gelatin silver print like this seems almost a little… ghostly. Editor: Haunting is maybe a better word for it; its like the remnants of those histories stay with us somehow. The framing of the image with the pages around, adds, paradoxically to the effect of realism: the sense of actually witnessing ruins as they succumb to the changes happening around them. The materiality is remarkable! Curator: You're so right. The print feels very fragile, and intimate because of it. Makes one want to preserve everything before the world moves on. Editor: Exactly. So next time, try to feel for yourself what is it you feel when contemplating these gelatin silver ghostly photographs from a nearly forgotten era.