Portret van een onbekende jongen 1886 - 1913

Editor: We’re looking at a gelatin silver print, “Portret van een onbekende jongen,” or “Portrait of an Unknown Boy” by Adolphe Zimmermans, dating from around 1886 to 1913. It’s at the Rijksmuseum. I'm struck by the formality, the almost stern expression of the boy – what catches your eye? Curator: Isn’t he a picture? I see a world held tight in that young, serious face, a tiny gentleman posed against what I like to imagine as a backdrop promising an escape from those impeccably buttoned boots. Does the crisp detail, the way the light catches the watch chain, give you a hint of his social standing? He appears to be consciously inhabiting a role, wouldn't you say? A miniature adult in waiting, if you will. Editor: That’s a great point about him playing a role. It almost feels like a costume. I hadn't considered the watch chain as a signifier of status, I was too caught up in his…well, I was going to say “ennui," but I don't even know if that's possible for someone his age! Curator: Oh, but to be young and burdened by expectation! The eye knows no age. But think of it another way - it's about access, privilege. These early photographic portraits were a deliberate and staged capturing of self – unlike today's candid snaps, someone carefully constructed this moment, and the sitter's awareness is palpable. What story do you imagine went into staging this portrait? Editor: It makes me wonder about his future, and the weight of expectation he probably carried. And that it's "portrait of an *unknown* boy" is especially poignant. Curator: Precisely. It’s a captured instant, yet feels profoundly unresolved, a ghostly whisper across time of possibilities both grasped and gone.