Bulgaarse kinderen in een Bulgaars dorp, tijdens een rondreis van Eugen Wachenheimer en zijn echtgenote Else Wachenheimer-Moos door Bulgarije, 1922-1923, (mogelijk omgeving Sofia)

Editor: We're looking at "Bulgaarse kinderen in een Bulgaars dorp, tijdens een rondreis van Eugen Wachenheimer en zijn echtgenote Else Wachenheimer-Moos door Bulgarije, 1922-1923, (mogelijk omgeving Sofia)," a photograph taken sometime between 1922 and 1923. The black and white and realism give the scene such a feeling of stepping back in time. I'm struck by the fence dominating the center—how do you read that? Curator: Ah, yes, it's less of a picture and more of a fleeting ghost story from a land far away and not so long ago. The wooden fence is an aggressive upward visual rhythm that's more chaotic than uniform. As such, to me it almost whispers a subtle story of precarious lives. I like how Wachenheimer chose this vantage point, placing it right at the spine of the image! What do you think that fence protects or perhaps keeps away? Editor: I like your metaphor, a ghost story! I hadn’t considered the precariousness so apparent in the photo; more of the idyllic. It does bring that edginess with it. The fence could represent physical hardship or outside disruption, because even the way the adults are separated speaks volumes. Curator: Right?! Even that one small figure facing AWAY. Wachenheimer gives such clues, like breadcrumbs! Now, doesn't this image also beg the question, who gets to tell a story? The fence feels so invasive here that it really causes me to think hard on Eugen Wachenheimer and his wife’s impact on this quaint Bulgarian village as mere tourists. A real ghost story alright. Editor: That's fascinating. Seeing it as less neutral changes so much. I was so focused on the children. Curator: Me too! Now I feel guilty. But isn’t that precisely the strange and uneasy beauty in art… Editor: Absolutely. There’s so much more to think about than when we started. Thank you for that perspective.