[Icebergs] 1893 - 1895

Curator: Robert E. Peary’s gelatin silver print, "[Icebergs]," dating from 1893 to 1895... It just pulls you in, doesn't it? Editor: Oh, it absolutely does. It's stark, melancholic, like a forgotten dream floating on a silver sea. I feel a profound sense of isolation gazing at it. Curator: It is quite haunting. Peary wasn't just an explorer. He sought to document his voyages through photography, creating these, almost eerily, still records of the Arctic. This piece resides in the collection of the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Editor: Makes you wonder, doesn't it, what kind of equipment he lugged around! You wouldn’t think such bulky apparatus could capture something so…fragile. Curator: Fragile is a great word. Gelatin silver prints were emerging as a more accessible process around this time, democratizing photography and allowing for finer details. But Peary's agenda wasn’t exactly democratizing. He was driven by a nationalistic pursuit of discovery. His photographs played a role in shaping a heroic narrative of exploration. Editor: A manufactured sublime? The almost monochromatic palette definitely does something to underscore the desolation. All those subtle shades, yet utterly cold! Makes you shiver just looking at it, thinking about the labor involved. Curator: It's easy to romanticize exploration, but there's always a political dimension, particularly when considering someone like Peary. It’s worth reflecting on what those photographs were intended to *do* rather than merely *show*. Editor: Precisely. How his photographs shaped a cultural understanding of the arctic and its relation to the colonial narratives he took part in constructing. It gives the beauty of the landscape an edge. It also is a testament to how context enriches our experience. Thanks for bringing Peary's vision, in more ways than one, into sharper focus. Curator: Indeed, food for thought as we consider the legacies we inherit and reshape.