Untitled 1860s

Here we see a portrait of President Lincoln, captured in a photograph of modest scale, bearing the names Furne Fils and H. Tournier. The sitter holds a letter in his hand, an object of some significance. The letter, as a symbol, bridges the gap between the personal and the political, between private thoughts and public actions. Consider how the act of holding a letter echoes across time. In Renaissance paintings, a letter might signify a secret love or a vital piece of information. The gesture of holding the missive—a physical connection to words— speaks volumes. Yet, the meaning shifts. The photograph is haunted by the knowledge of Lincoln's assassination, thus the letter becomes a symbol of interrupted communication, unfinished business, and the fragility of life, charged with an almost unbearable tension. Like a tragic chorus in a Greek drama, the letter now whispers of what was left unsaid. The image, therefore, is not merely a record but a powerful mnemonic device.