'In the Heart of a Friend": Imperfect Daguerreotypes as Passports to the Past

 

I bought the daguerreotype to the left recently on eBay for next to nothing because of the condition. Significant wipe marks are prominent plus it is faded. However, I find it very meaningful. This young woman who posed for her picture maybe around 1848-1850 was a living, breathing person, not a faded silvery gray ghost living in a monochromatic world. She was loved and loved others. 

 

Collectors love the crystal clear daguerreotypes that are so crisp you can feel them looking into your eyes. A clear, intact daguerreotype is startlingly clear and realistic. It is no wonder that people who were alive at the dawn of photography would be taken aback by these images. They are, in the opinion of some, the best photographs ever taken because of their highly detailed quality. I’ve got a number of those too. But I feel there is a place for imperfect images such as this as well. Some collectors will refer to images in this condition as "junk" or "garbage." If looking for perfection is the highest value for a collector then imperfect images such as this won't do. They're entitled to their opinion. They're missing out.

Far from being a “junk” image, this picture and others possess the quality known in Japanese aesthetics as “wabi sabi.”  I hesitate for only a second in using this grossly misunderstood concept which is extremely overused by marketers who have not a shred of understanding about such a deep concept. It relates to the tangible wear and tear on an object that turns it into a unique creation shaped not only by the original maker but by the hands that used it and the aging associated  with the passage of time. A common parallel might be an armchair used for decades by a beloved grandparent, a chair that has a distinct pattern of wear from continued use. That’s wabi sabi. And so, daguerreotypes such as this share the same concept. It shows wear and even decay from years of exposure to light and perhaps misguided attempts to brighten it up by lightly wiping the surface. 

I don't see daguerreotypes as just photographic images. Because of their proximity to the invention of photography they are just as much a record of someone's life using a new technology that mystified the world. These early photographs form a tangible bond with people from the past. People who had their picture taken for the first time did not do so with the same casual manner we have when taking more than sufficient photos of a vacation spot with our phones. But we do that for a reason—to capture a moment. People at the dawn of photography didn’t know how to capture a moment except through writing or holding or seeing a memento. Having a daguerreotype made was at first a time consuming enterprise. The length of time needed for exposure went down dramatically to a few seconds,  but even after the demise of daguerreotypes as a viable form of photography people would still sit still for a picture with what seems to be a stern expression on their face, the result resembling a driver’s license photo. 

I collect the simple portraits that are easy to come by because they fit in my budget, but not only for that reason.  I like them because they’re people. I can imagine the young woman above taking a deep breath and smoothing her dress before getting up from the chair in the studio to go home or to her next destination. There is a story for her, forever hidden.  Perhaps the picture was a gift for her fiance, or grandparents. It might have been in celebration of her engagement. Or, it might have just been on a whim.

What we don’t know aside from the obvious, her identity, is what her life was like after the picture  was made. Did she marry and have a meaningful life and live to be a grandmother? Did she die tragically in an accident or from tuberculosis at a young age? Perhaps that is why the picture is not in perfect condition. It may have served as the only visible representation of a life cut short. 

When someone had a daguerreotype made they would certainly hope that it would be preserved for a long time. The solid feeling of a photograph on a copper and silver plate, covered with a thick piece of glass and encased in a wood and leather case, would undoubtedly given them a sense of security. A one sixth plate daguerreotype (2.75” x 3.25”) has weight. It's not just a print on paper. Interestingly, behind the glass is a fragile image that could easily be marred by a fingerprint or the seepage of water, yet if protected it will last the better part of two centuries, even more. Daguerreotypes were almost always sealed around the edge within their glass and brass mat with a glued paper tape of some sort. Even the photographer, then, had a sense that these images would last for a significant amount of time.  When collectors purchase a daguerreotype today they will often replace the tape around the edges if it has deteriorated. 

So then, these pictures, even those in poor condition, are postcards from the past to us. This anonymous young woman would have had no idea that a total stranger would be looking at her picture 175 years after it was taken, but her image survives, peering out through mists of time, and still speaks.

I shot an arrow into the air,
It fell to earth, I knew not where;
For, so swiftly it flew, the sight
Could not follow it in its flight.

I breathed a song into the air,
It fell to earth, I knew not where;
For who has sight so keen and strong,
That it can follow the flight of song?

Long, long afterward, in an oak
I found the arrow, still unbroke;
And the song, from beginning to end,
I found again in the heart of a friend

 

Longfellow, The Arrow and the Song, 1845