Rijstteelt te Grobogan 1910 - 1928

Editor: We’re looking at “Rijstteelt te Grobogan,” a gelatin silver print from between 1910 and 1928. It depicts rice cultivation and there's such a quiet, observational feel to the image, so… lived-in. What strikes you most about it? Curator: You know, that “lived-in” feel gets me too. It’s more than just documentation, isn’t it? I think that has to do with how it’s framed. A sense of immersive field-work. Editor: How so? Curator: Well, it captures a real scene—the bending figures planting, the men overseeing… but then you feel the photographer holding back, as a conscious creative choice: The composition directs your gaze beyond documentary into observation; to stand beside it is to also think beyond it, if that makes sense. Editor: It does, almost like it's inviting empathy, to feel some of that field-work, that back-breaking work... What can a photo like this tell us that, say, a painting couldn't? Curator: A painting might idealize. It may romanticize it even. The nature of early photography, particularly documentary-style, presents things ‘as they are.’ Or at least, gives the illusion of capturing an untouched reality, if such a thing even exists. Of course, this very "untouched reality" also relies on subjective choice; light, shadow, the photographic "frame", no? Editor: That's a good point. I hadn’t considered the photographer's own perspective being so subtly woven in. I came in seeing a record, leaving, contemplating composition itself! Curator: Wonderful, that’s the essence, I’d say! Photos help us 'feel', but art reframes perception, that simple, yet elegant paradox.