
To Paris in January! Members of the Scottish Society for the History of Photography and the Royal Photographic Society Historical Group shepherded by Donald Stewart had the privilege of a private tour of the exhibition Primitifs de la Photographie – Le Calotype en France 1843-1860 and a visit to the archives of the Bibliothèque Nationale de France. Our guide was the Curator of Photography, Sylvie Aubenas. Wonderful!
We went with forgivable assumption. The calotype was invented by William Henry Fox Talbot at Lacock Abbey, wasn’t it?. In a very short time indeed, it reached its apotheosis with Hill and Adamson at Rock House in Edinburgh, didn’t it? Surely, therefore, when it came to making calotypes, we British were the best.
We knew that the French were preoccupied with M. Daguerre’s exquisite but extremely limited system and that it was clearly a dead end. As to their interest in paper positive-negatives, it is true that we were aware of a few practitioners such as Gustave Le Gray, Henri Le Secq, Charles Nègre and Louis Blanquart-Évrard and of the occasional British visitor including Talbot but that was about it.
We had even confirmation of our conceit courtesy of the French themselves. Impressed by Light – British Photographs from Paper Negatives 1840-1860, the outstanding exhibition and publication by Roger Taylor and Larry Schaaf had been presented at the Musée d’Orsay in 2008. Shamefully, no British gallery would take it. But if ever there was proof of the true nationality of the calotype – that was it. It was ours!
A few paces into the exhibition at the Bibliothèque Nationale, or simply on opening the substantial book/catalogue accompanying Les Primitifs de la Photographie, the doubts began to set in. The ‘handful’ of French calotypists of whom we knew turned out to be more than four hundred in number with more being discovered all the time; moreover the period in which they worked is much longer than expected, extending to 1870. The daguerreotype option was always there for them, though expensive, but latterly so was the wet collodion so, evidently, paper was the process of deliberate choice. Perhaps indeed, paper was ‘the future of photography’ as Gustav le Gray put it. The French commitment to the negative-positive paper method was in fact extraordinary.
What took the breath of preconception away was the sheer range and quality of the work. At a technical level, some of the work is astonishing. The received wisdom that the calotype was poor at registering detail is confounded by, for example, Gustave de Beaucorps’ Spanish images, particularly his Porte de l’Alhambra (1858) (images) with its minute filigree decoration. Panoramas, stereoviews, and multiple negative work (Èdouard-Denis Baldus’ Cloitre Sainte-Trophisme d’Arles (1851), (image) confronted us with their style and expressiveness.
The later works even moved the calotype to a new level. Paul Mailand’s Vallée de Luchon (1859) (image) is a good example. The exposure is still too long to disguise the movement of the trees or the flow of the mill lade, but the effect is perfect. Incidentally, Luchon and the Pyrenees around Pau was the base for several calotypists including Vicomte Joseph Vigier (images) and the Scot, John Stewart (Winter Scene at Pau 1853), brother-in-law of Herschel.
It is true that the familiar names and some familiar images were present but nudes by Charles Nègre and Gustave Le Gray were accompanied by those by Albert Fays and Eugène Durieu (images); a still life by Hippolyte Bayard was next to examples by Sosthène Grasset d’Orcet, Édouard Fleury de Vorges (image) and by an anonymous photographer. And this was the joy of the show and is of the book that wherever you look, there is genuine revelation.
The exhibition is over now so no point in heading to Paris if that is your only objective but the book (Amazon sells it for £45, I’m afraid) is terrific and contains all the images immaculately reproduced. So what else did we do in Paris? Plenty, actually. A behind the scenes visit to the astonishing Albert Kahn museum, the brilliant Kertesz show at Jeu de Paume, a quite amazing morning in the archives of the BN (I’ll never forget handling (sic) the original agreement between Niépce and Daguerre); and then there was the Lebanese restaurant and the belly dancer. There is a plan to go to Paris and the BN again in November – can’t wait!
David Bruce.