Heiligendamm, Juli 1938 1938

Curator: It has such an intimate feel, doesn't it? Almost like a stolen moment. Editor: It's a photograph titled "Heiligendamm, Juli 1938" by an anonymous photographer, currently residing at the Rijksmuseum. What grabs you about its making? Curator: Well, look at the paper medium, the gelatin-silver print—it suggests a directness, a connection to the materiality of capturing a moment in time. The photograph itself isn't large, prompting close examination of its content. The silver gelatin printing process really lends a particular grayscale tonal quality and texture to it. Editor: Absolutely. And the timing is crucial. 1938 in Germany. This image, ostensibly a portrait of a mother and child, exists within a rapidly escalating political and social crisis. The apparent everyday-ness of the scene clashes violently with the context. Where was the photographer in terms of access to material resources for this image to have been made? What were their motives? Curator: The banality of it is disturbing when considering historical events, and there's definitely something very staged and deliberate about that backdrop behind the woman, contrasting with the tenderness in which the woman holds the child. The image’s monochrome further seems to simplify the forms. Editor: The starkness of black and white serves to abstract them, heightening the image's emotional effect as well. This 'everyday' moment underscores the normalcy with which fascist ideologies took root. Here we see motherhood centered amid extreme right power consolidations, presenting an idyllic facade. Do you think this photograph intentionally alludes to the Nazi propaganda and obsession of the perfect "Aryan" race through motherhood? Curator: Possibly so. Considering that photography was a key tool for propaganda in that era, we have to question the intentions behind the photo's creation and circulation. Editor: Exactly. It's a chillingly composed picture offering much more than what immediately meets the eye, even beyond the technical artistry involved. Curator: Seeing the artistry amidst historical horror makes it all the more difficult and compelling. The silver gelatin evokes an emotional feeling—maybe longing—I can’t quite name, though, especially when coupled with our present historical knowledge. Editor: The personal and the political are undeniably intertwined. It forces us to reflect on how even seemingly ordinary images are charged with the weight of history.