Pass of Glencoe before 1868

Curator: Here we have a photographic print, dating to before 1868, entitled "Pass of Glencoe". Editor: The image has a rather somber mood; all sepia tones and soft focus. There's a romantic, if somewhat desolate feel, to the scene. Curator: As the title suggests, it depicts the Pass of Glencoe, a valley in the Scottish Highlands. Focusing on its physical components we see a simple, straight bridge or aqueduct piercing an ascending rugged slope and valley with rocky river. It really makes me think about the process of translating landscape to image. The material constraints—photographic technology of the time, the printing methods—had a hand in constructing that sense of desolation. Editor: And the history that is embedded in the landscape. The Glencoe massacre, a significant event in Scottish history. Political instability and inter-clan warfare cast a heavy shadow here. The image, though visually serene on the surface, subtly evokes the public memory of loss and conflict and alludes to these histories of Scottish rebellion. Curator: Precisely. Thinking about the act of image-making itself, who selected this view? How were the local communities involved or excluded from its production and circulation? These landscape prints were commercial objects. So who was purchasing and consuming these images and what stories of labor are captured with it? Editor: It speaks to the complex intersection of history, representation, and national identity. The marketing and consumption of "picturesque" views played a role in shaping a romanticized image of Scotland. It made the Highlands palatable to outside consumption, but how that narrative served, or perhaps undermined, the communities within Glencoe remains a poignant question. Curator: A crucial point to bear in mind when experiencing this particular image. It is both beautiful in its visual depiction, yet, is it masking over complex social and economical relationships present at its making? Editor: Indeed. Contemplating "Pass of Glencoe", the photograph, it reminds us how art can be simultaneously beautiful, evocative, and politically charged.