[Self-Portrait] 1893 - 1895

Editor: This is Robert Peary’s Self-Portrait, a gelatin silver print made sometime between 1893 and 1895. There's such a stillness to it, and I am intrigued by how grounded he looks given the stark, possibly frigid background. What do you see when you look at it? Curator: It's fascinating to consider the conditions of its creation. Peary was an explorer; what does it mean to create a "self" using photography amidst the material realities of his expeditions? He uses the gelatin-silver process to construct an identity, to represent his experience to the world and likely to himself. Editor: That's a compelling thought. So, instead of thinking about what he's trying to convey through his expression, you're focusing on the technology itself and how it shaped the image? Curator: Precisely! Consider the labor involved: developing the print, the materials used, their transport to an Arctic environment… each choice carries weight. It challenges conventional boundaries between art and documentation, raising questions about authenticity and performance in a staged, reproduced environment. Editor: The practical and the symbolic are so entwined. He’s wearing fur trousers – necessary for survival but also part of the constructed image of “the explorer.” Curator: Exactly! They point directly towards indigenous modes of making. He poses as the quintessential Arctic man, equipped, enduring, but this relies on materials secured through colonial contact and systems of labour and power that underpin his entire enterprise. Editor: This definitely gives me a fresh perspective to how I can analyse portraiture beyond individual expression. Curator: Thinking about the “how” and “why” of creation helps to unearth layers of meaning not always apparent in formal analysis alone. It’s a material record, not just a representation of an explorer, and those choices involved tell the most potent story of all.