Portret van een onbekende jongen, aangeduid als Percil Hutton 1863 - 1887

Curator: Here we have a gelatin-silver print from between 1863 and 1887 attributed to Elliott & Fry. It's titled, perhaps a little ambiguously, "Portret van een onbekende jongen, aangeduid als Percil Hutton," or "Portrait of an unknown boy, referred to as Percil Hutton." Editor: He looks like a tiny, solemn prince, doesn't he? There’s something ethereal about the blurring around the edges. Almost like he is a figment of my imagination, remembered from a half-forgotten fairy tale. Curator: The tonal range in gelatin silver prints certainly lends itself to that feeling. Look at the gradations of light across his face, how the contrast defines the velvet texture of his jacket against the soft focus of his skin. Notice, too, the compositional symmetry. Editor: Yes! It’s like he is purposefully holding his posture; but there is such sadness in his eyes. Did children have the freedom to *not* be posed for photographs then? I’d imagine that stillness was mandatory! Curator: The stiffness could easily be a stylistic convention as much as a requirement. This era favored formal presentation and clarity; consider the social pressures dictating comportment at the time. Editor: Perhaps, but there’s something about the way his gaze meets the camera that hints at a more vulnerable interior. I wonder what Percil would make of all this speculation. Curator: Indeed. The power of the photographic portrait lies, paradoxically, in its indexical relationship to the real and our constructed fantasies based upon fleeting, ambiguous signals. Editor: Well said! So, even if the picture leaves a somber note in my soul, the mystery also sings its captivating and imaginative tune, long after I have stopped seeing the image. Curator: Absolutely. Perhaps that’s the true power of this beautifully wrought image – that ambiguous play between fact and perception.