Untitled (Lebanon, N.H.) n.d.

Editor: This is an undated gelatin-silver print, a photograph, actually, by Billings & Hough, simply titled “Untitled (Lebanon, N.H.)”. It features a large building partially obscured by trees. There’s something very still and quiet about it, like a moment suspended in time. What do you see in this piece? Curator: You know, that stillness is exactly what draws me in too. It’s like a visual poem, isn't it? A haiku etched in silver. I get the impression that Billings & Hough aren’t just documenting a building, they’re capturing the soul of a place. The light feels almost… conscious. The framing, though seemingly straightforward, feels meticulously chosen to create a feeling of intimacy and distance simultaneously. Almost like peeking through time, like a forgotten dream. Do you feel that disconnect too? Editor: Absolutely. The older style gives the photo distance, but the framing—how the branches sort of cradle the house—pulls me in. Do you think this feeling affects how we interpret small-town life back then? Curator: I do! In photography of the late 19th century, there’s always a narrative lurking behind the factual. They aren’t simply selling the buildings. Billings & Hough are trying to suggest a certain idealized way of living that perhaps never fully existed, an eternal snapshot of American bliss. Notice, how it focuses the light? Do you get the sense that that figure at the building’s front may have seen this photographer approaching? Editor: I never would have caught that person in the frame! It felt deserted before. Knowing this image and its historical weight, the work does so much. Thank you for making that invisible subject visible for me. Curator: It's often the quietest voices, in life and in art, that have the most profound things to say. These ghostly vestiges provide the foundation and frame the dreams to follow.