Markt en straat met ossenkarren in Smyrna c. 1880 - 1890

Curator: This is "Market and Street with Ox Carts in Smyrna," a photograph dating from about 1880 to 1890. It’s an albumen print. Editor: It has a hushed quality about it, almost sepia-toned into silence. A feeling of immense heat radiates from the still scene. Are those figures real, or are they ghosts haunting a memory? Curator: It's funny you say that because, beyond its visual appeal, the work provides insights into the complex historical narratives tied to European orientalism and the documentation of urban centers like Smyrna, now Izmir. Editor: Ah, orientalism. So it’s through whose eyes are we seeing this, exactly? A tourist, a documentarian, or an outright fantasist? That minaret peeking through… it all feels constructed, somehow, for an outsider's gaze. Curator: That is a key element of these kinds of photos from the era: the artist or photographer is imposing his point of view while showing an idealized version of Ottoman daily life and commerce to eager viewers back in Europe and the States. This is an exotic commodity, repackaged for mass consumption. Editor: It works as propaganda but not particularly successful from an emotional, spiritual, and humane position. I feel that what it actually lacks—a depth, real laughter, tangible grief. What remains of these ghosts if there’s nothing binding them to the here and now? Curator: But this photo, for those open to see it beyond its obvious layers of representation, reveals a lot about the politics of representation and spectatorship during a time of expanding imperialism. It tells us so much, perhaps inadvertently, about power itself. Editor: Perhaps, and while that conversation has value, the human touch is still what speaks to me most in art. I just wish, as an artifact, it revealed a little bit more truth than fiction. I mean, what *were* they selling there at market anyway?