Isabel Wachenheimer, Erica en Hansl in de tuin van de woning van Willy Moos in Hamburg, Bellevue 62, in maart-april 1935 Possibly 1935

Editor: This gelatin-silver print, possibly from 1935, captures Isabel Wachenheimer’s subjects, “Erica en Hansl in de tuin van de woning van Willy Moos in Hamburg.” It feels like such an ordinary snapshot, yet something about its ordinariness in that time makes it feel significant. What do you see in this piece, considering the context? Curator: I see a deceptively simple photograph, layered with complexities given the historical moment. Consider that this was taken in 1935 in Hamburg. Who were these children, Erica and Hansl? Who was Willy Moos? What was his relationship with the photographer and the children? These are crucial questions. The seeming innocence of children playing in a garden clashes starkly with the rise of Nazi Germany and increasing persecution of Jewish people. Editor: So, you're suggesting that this seemingly innocent image is loaded with a sense of foreboding? Curator: Exactly. These are not simply children playing; they are individuals living in a society on the brink of immense violence and oppression. This photograph is an archive of a precarious moment. The subjects' identity informs the socio-political context surrounding its creation. Understanding the photographer's circle may offer a deeper context too. Wachenheimer’s camera documents life at a crucial intersection. What appears “ordinary” now, could easily be reframed in terms of the anxiety of the time, the need for community, and perhaps a way of documenting those one might soon lose. Editor: It’s fascinating to think about how much a single photograph can reveal when viewed through a historical lens. I initially just saw a candid image. Curator: It is a poignant reminder that every photograph, every artwork, is a product of its time, shaped by the social and political forces at play. I am now wondering: does anyone know what happened to Erica and Hansl? Did they survive the war? Editor: That’s a haunting question that I suspect may be unanswerable but essential for contextualising such documentary photographs.