Blake House 1860

Curator: What a stoic beauty. It makes me want to slip into a simpler time, all long skirts and hushed tones. Editor: That’s Alfred Capel Cure’s "Blake House," dating back to 1860. It's currently residing here at The Metropolitan Museum of Art. The photographic print, you see, beautifully captures this architectural marvel. Curator: Yes, that stillness. The way the light plays across the facade... It feels so staged, so consciously composed. Editor: Precisely. Consider the composition itself; it embodies perfect balance, reflecting the formal gardens and grand driveway, leading the eye straight to the heart of the structure. Curator: A heart that feels…well, almost vacant. Or maybe just deeply, profoundly private. It makes me think of unspoken stories echoing within those walls. Secrets, maybe? Editor: Intriguing perspective! Speaking strictly of photographic properties, consider the materiality. Photography as a medium in 1860. Capture implies immense time investment, given longer exposures of early photography versus its quick contemporary iteration. Consider this photograph in relation to, say, Walker Evans' documentary aesthetic? How does Capel Cure utilize the burgeoning medium in a way that evades it use as simple archival device? Curator: You know, I hadn't considered that, but now...yes! There is this attempt to escape the medium, to capture and transcend simultaneously. Is he successful? Maybe not, but what an incredible pursuit. Editor: Perhaps therein lies it's charm? In his work, Cure plays between two dimensions—capturing objective documentation through subjective, intimate lens? A constant flux, almost like how the sun moves over "Blake House" from day to day. Curator: Precisely. And with that in mind, I suppose all that’s left to do is, see for oneself? Thank you. Editor: Indeed, a rather telling slice of architectural portraiture. And thank you.