Ezel before 1893

Curator: So, we’re looking at “Ezel,” a pre-1893 albumen print. What are your initial thoughts? Editor: It’s… interesting. There are two distinct images presented on either side of an open book. On the left page is an image of a building within an industrial area, and on the right page is an image of a singular animal, in the foreground. The city scenes feel so detached from this animal. What's going on here? Curator: I think this juxtaposition really highlights the often-unacknowledged impact of industrial progress on the natural world, especially during that period of rapid expansion. Do you see how one image illustrates urban sprawl while the other seems to capture what’s being displaced? Editor: Yes, now that you mention it. The factory and building signify expansion and industry, with no organic life. On the other hand, we have a mule, lonely in a blank landscape, removed from its natural environment by new property and industry. But why a mule specifically? Curator: The choice of a mule is not accidental. Historically, mules have been the working animals who enabled colonization in both logistics and literal labor. They’re creatures caught between nature and the human imposition of labour and property, like a biological manifestation of exploitation. Editor: I hadn’t thought of that. The photo almost romanticizes it with the title “Ezel”, as if making the exploitation seem innocuous. Curator: Exactly. The photograph presents us with a scene from history. "Progress" came at a cost and to deny that history is to ignore the long lasting material and social implications. The image quietly asks us: Who benefits from this so-called progress? And at whose expense? Editor: Wow, I never would have approached this piece like that on my own. Thank you for helping me unpack those difficult issues with this photograph! Curator: It's these critical conversations that give older works newfound life. Thanks for helping to make it meaningful.