Gezicht op de Trümmelbachwaterval in Lauterbrunnen, Zwitserland 1857 - 1914

Editor: Okay, so next up we have “Gezicht op de Trümmelbachwaterval in Lauterbrunnen, Zwitserland” a gelatin silver print by Giorgio Sommer, created sometime between 1857 and 1914. It’s held here at the Rijksmuseum. Immediately I’m struck by the somewhat claustrophobic feeling despite being a landscape, everything's so grey and close-up. What catches your eye about this photograph? Curator: Ah, yes, "Gezicht op de Trümmelbachwaterval," Giorgio Sommer. I feel like I’m peering into the earth's raw power. I see that muted palette you mentioned, the close perspective, not as constriction, but rather like holding a seashell to my ear, bringing you close to it so that it really resonates. Look how Sommer manages to capture not just the *sight* but the *sound* of that rushing water… and the danger. Does it evoke any stories, any folklore maybe, or memories, even, in you? Editor: It reminds me a little of those old paintings of the sublime – nature's immense power dwarfing humanity. Except here, it’s the framing that does that. We’re right in it, yet the wooden walkway seems so fragile, don't you think? Curator: Precisely! The walkway provides a curious element. Humanity, yes, is present, yet almost consumed, temporary. It’s a photograph about time, isn't it? Water carving rock, humans building bridges... What survives? This waterfall must still roar today. What are our photographs carving for the future? Editor: That's such a good point – the relationship between the lasting waterfall and the ephemeral structure. It gives the image a depth that I didn't notice at first! Curator: Photography, at its best, captures what painting simply can't... I think that contrast we have noticed just confirms that this photo really exemplifies that well. Thank you for spotting that, it is really rewarding noticing new aspects in those old photographies.