Marba Titzenthaler, dochter van de fotograaf, bij zandbak op het dakterras van het woonhuis in de Friedrichstrasse, Berlijn Possibly 1915 - 1916

Waldemar Titzenthaler made this photograph of his daughter, Marba, in her rooftop sandbox sometime in the early 20th century, probably using a simple box camera. The grayscale image feels immediate and informal, like a snapshot of a moment, yet staged. Look at the wall behind Marba. It’s got this heavily cracked texture, like thick paint that's been applied and reapplied over time. The way the light hits it, you can almost feel the grit of the surface. And then there's Marba herself, this solid, little figure standing in stark contrast to the weathered wall. She looks like a tiny monument, the way she holds her shovel. It reminds me of the American photographer, Imogen Cunningham, who made some gorgeous images of plants and people, always with this direct, unfussy approach. It makes you think about how photography, like painting, is all about seeing – how we frame the world, and what we choose to focus on. Art is really an ongoing conversation, a continual reframing of what's already there.