Gezicht op de Olijfberg 1867 - 1885

Curator: Oh, this just exudes peace. The sepia tones, the hazy distance... It’s like a whispered prayer. Editor: We're looking at Félix Bonfils' "Gezicht op de Olijfberg," or "View of the Mount of Olives," created sometime between 1867 and 1885. It’s an albumen print, a photographic process quite common back then. You can almost smell the chemicals. Curator: Almost… I smell dust and sun-baked earth! It’s strange, how something so still can evoke such sensory memories. Those olive trees scattered across the landscape, they look like ancient souls guarding the holy city. Editor: And considering Bonfils operated out of Beirut, think of the logistics! Glass plates, chemicals, the camera itself... hauled across the region to capture this single view. It’s labor, really, turning landscape into commodity, fitting the "Orient" into a frame for European consumption. Curator: But beyond the colonial gaze, there's still a palpable sense of reverence. I imagine Bonfils felt something powerful standing on that very spot, compelled to capture the essence of a place brimming with spiritual history. Doesn't that mountain look soft enough to rest your weary soul against it? Editor: It’s albumen clinging to paper, transformed into value. This print wasn’t cheap, and owning an image of the Holy Land, even secondhand, fulfilled a specific desire fueled by both religious sentiment and orientalist fantasy. Curator: I suppose. But looking beyond the materials and the market, I sense Bonfils truly seeking connection, not just creating content. Perhaps we imbue objects with our own feelings? Editor: Well, maybe. Ultimately, photographs like this, so meticulously crafted, tell us as much about the makers and their time as they do about the subjects they depict. Curator: True. And this glimpse, filtered through time and process, does ignite something... a desire to be there, in that still, sun-drenched place.