Minneapolis 1857

Editor: This photograph, "Minneapolis" by Benjamin Franklin Upton, taken in 1857, is a gelatin-silver print depicting an old building. I'm struck by how seemingly ordinary it is, and yet it feels pregnant with history, like it has so many untold stories embedded within its greyscale tones. What stories do you see in this piece? Curator: The stories are certainly there, embedded like relics in amber. The image functions as a memory object, doesn't it? The architectural structure, repeated in numerous buildings across the expanding United States, signifies enterprise, opportunity... but consider the figures gathered there. Note their placement, the contrasts in their attire, their posture. Do you perceive a deliberate encoding here? Editor: You mean in how the people are positioned? Some seem quite formal, while others look… well, almost subservient. The building has signage but is mostly illegible to me. Curator: Exactly. The image operates on multiple levels. The architecture, a symbol of progress, clashes with the social dynamics on display. What cultural narratives were being constructed – and perhaps concealed – in 1857? This isn’t just a building; it's a stage for a complex social drama. It’s like a family photo, where everyone knows the real story is what isn’t being said. Editor: So, it's about the symbols of both progress and social division at the same time. I hadn't thought about it that way. I see that the meaning unfolds as you decode the symbolic content of the image. Curator: Precisely. Upton's photograph becomes a powerful meditation on the American narrative—a story of ambition and inequality intertwined. Looking closer, it gives so much food for thought about the myths a country likes to build of itself.