Edward St. Germain and his sister Delia, mill workers, Phoenix, Rhode Island, April 1909 1909

In April 1909, Lewis Hine made this gelatin silver print of Edward St. Germain and his sister Delia, mill workers in Phoenix, Rhode Island. It’s a photograph, so obviously not made with paint, but still, I wonder what it was like to be Hine, setting up the shot. The kids look posed but uncomfortable. They’re standing in front of what looks like a factory or institutional building. The sister has her hand on her hip. What does that gesture mean? Is it defiance or just awkwardness? I can imagine Hine trying to get them to relax, to show something of their real selves. Maybe he wanted to expose the exploitation of child labor, but maybe he also wanted to see these children as individuals, not just symbols. Photographers, like painters, are always trying to capture something elusive, something that’s both there and not there at the same time. The photographer's vision and the subject's life converge to create a space for us to explore what it means to be human.