Spiranthes cernua- Nodding Ladies' Tresses 1931

Edwin Hale Lincoln made this gelatin silver print, Spiranthes cernua- Nodding Ladies' Tresses, sometime in the early 20th century. It’s a photograph, but the granular texture almost feels like a drawing made up of tiny marks. You can imagine Lincoln in the field, setting up his camera, waiting for the right light, and embracing the unpredictability of the process. The whole image is a field of grey. The plants, the ground, the sky, all captured in this silvery tone. I see these little dots of white that are the flowers, each one a tiny gesture in a wider field. The composition isn’t staged; it feels natural, a snapshot of a real place. Thinking about artists working with photography at the time, I’m reminded of Alfred Stieglitz, who was trying to elevate photography to the level of fine art. Lincoln’s image feels less about grand artistic statements and more about a quiet observation of nature. It invites us to see the beauty in the everyday, the delicate dance of light and shadow in a field of wildflowers.