Zeehonden op de rotskust van San Francisco c. 1880 - 1900

Curator: Ah, Isaiah West Taber's gelatin silver print, likely from sometime between 1880 and 1900, showing us 'Zeehonden op de rotskust van San Francisco’—'Seals on the Rocky Coast of San Francisco'. Isn't it a striking image? Editor: It is… melancholy. Something about the light, or the lack thereof, I can’t decide if it evokes a sense of impending doom, or maybe it's just the monochrome palette. Still, quite evocative. Curator: You've hit on something essential, I think. Look at the composition; how the dark, almost indistinguishable mass of seals clusters at the base of that formidable rock. The water seems to blend seamlessly with the sky, a study in tonal gradations. There's this tension between the organic, teeming life and the harsh, indifferent geology. Editor: Indifferent indeed. But the formal arrangement is key, isn’t it? Taber is playing with light and shadow here. The rock face acts as a solid geometric form against the amorphous shapes of the seals, emphasizing the rough texture against the smooth surface of the water. It is the basic formal relationship. The photo plays a kind of semiotic dance, I mean, how do we read this symbol? Nature, struggle, survival perhaps? Curator: Possibly… Taber certainly knew his medium; notice how he captures the seals themselves? They're not just blobs; each one has character, posture. Some are looking at the camera, some are diving, others are just basking on the rocks. To me that shows real artistry; trying to grasp some element of what that community on those rocks represents. Editor: That tension is it really, that you notice the detail but realize its lost in the overwhelming grey? Maybe that's what got me melancholy in the first place. Thanks for your insight, I don’t think I would've seen that on my own. Curator: It’s the image that speaks in the end! So many possible stories in one frame… each view enriches it.