[Grand Army Review, Pennsylvania Avenue, Washington] 1865

Editor: This is Alexander Gardner’s photograph, “[Grand Army Review, Pennsylvania Avenue, Washington],” taken in 1865. Looking at it, I feel this blend of solemnity and spectacle – a kind of visual record of the end of the war, but also, undeniably, a bit chaotic. What stands out to you? Curator: Oh, absolute chaos, Editor! A glorious mess of horses and hats, sunlight and shadow, the ephemerality of a moment etched in silver. To me, it's a photograph trying to be a history painting. Gardner, see, he’s not just documenting; he’s composing. Can you feel that tension, between capturing what *was* and suggesting what *ought* to be remembered? It makes me think, what stories aren't being told in all this grandeur? Editor: That's a cool observation! I hadn’t thought about what’s left out of the frame. Does that kind of "historical omission" characterize a lot of war photography from this period? Curator: Absolutely. War, then as now, is rarely just about the battlefield. It's about who controls the narrative, who gets to write—or, in this case, photograph—history. And Gardner, for all his supposed realism, had a point of view. This photo makes me wonder what the everyday American was doing and thinking on that very same day. Editor: So it’s about questioning what is presented to us, beyond the surface? Curator: Exactly. Think of it as an invitation to ponder beyond what is literally visible in Gardner's stunning photo. And consider our relationship to photographs today: what truths, or illusions, are we building through each image that we post? Editor: Wow, it’s really about reading into it beyond what’s apparent, isn't it? I’m never going to look at historical photography the same way again! Curator: Good. Art should change you – subtly, violently, deliciously. Thanks, Gardner!