Pictorialism was a short-lived movement in photography, born in the late 1860s and slowly fading away after the early 20th century. But it had the effect of changing how photography was viewed heretofore. It was a new mode of artistic expression, a way of seeing beyond what reality presented to the ordinary eye.
Anyone who believes that photography is more than just a matter of recording reality ought to take a look at the pictures made by Robert Demachy (1859–1936). The man was a leading French light in the late 1860s to early 20th century movement called Pictorialism. The term is succinctly defined by Britannica as “an approach to photography that emphasizes beauty of subject matter, tonality, and composition rather than the documentation of reality.”
The world owes a debt of gratitude to James Francis “Frank” Hurley. The Australian photographer and adventurer took part in a number of expeditions to Antarctica, documenting with his camera a place that most of humanity will never get to see or set foot on.
A harbour is often thought of as a place bustling with maritime commerce. The Britannica definition of the term reminds us of its primary function: “any part of a body of water and the manmade structures surrounding it that sufficiently shelters a vessel from wind, waves, and currents, enabling safe anchorage or the discharge and loading of cargo and passengers.”
Sail and steam pilot boats have long vanished. But then as now, harbour pilots face the same dangers as they go about their work. Even the ladders they use in boarding vessels have not drastically changed in design. Performing their job iin fair or foul weather, pilots still face the constant risk of getting injured or killed whilst going up these ladders.
Marine Café Blog bids farewell to 2021 with one of my favourite subjects — tugboats. The following photographs, some more than a century old, suggest the reason why tugs have long held a fascination for many people. Although puny compared with the ships they tow, they pack a lot of power. They also exude a certain charm, whether idle at the docks or busy performing multifarious tasks.
I have gathered together the following vintage photographs for readers of Marine Café Blog who are celebrating Christmas. They all have a connection to the sea, ships and sailors. This is but a small collection, but it provides glimpses into what Christmas was like in the old days.
Sailboats have an enduring kind of beauty and elegance. A photograph of sailboats may be 100 years old or older. It may bear some bruises and blemishes from ageing, but the charm of the subjects still comes through. The photographer, who had long ago died, had made the ballerinas of the water deathless.
Who would go to the beach when the weather is cold, damp and dreary? People go there to bask in the glory of the sun. Yet, there is something special — even beautiful — about a beach on a sunless day. Far from the motley crowd of sunbathers and alone near the mist-covered sea, one may come to realise the complex and perplexing nature, not only of the sea, but of life itself.
The shipping industry should stop this silly talk about seafarers being invisible. How can they be out of sight and out of mind? Seafarers love to post selfies on Facebook. And there is constant warbling from the maritime do-gooders about the rights and mental health of mariners that is louder than the song of a blue whale.
No sir, the really invisible ones are the fishermen who eke out a living from the sea. They are seldom in the media spotlight. Unsung, they face greater dangers in the course of their work than do merchant sailors. Yet, how many would spare a thought for these hardy folks?
As Americans celebrate the 4th of July, I thought I would share some old photographs of the Statue of Liberty. Well over a century after its inauguration in October 1886, the colossus continues to shine — a symbol of freedom and hope, not only for Americans but for the rest of humanity. I am including a poem by the American Jewish poet and activist, Emma Lazarus (1849 – 1887). The poem is inscribed on a plaque at the entrance to the statue’s pedestal.
There are so many pictures of lighthouses online — probably thousands — that one can grow tired of looking at them. It’s a kind of ocular fatigue summed up in the expression “when you’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all”. Once in a while, though, one comes across a lighthouse photograph that has a certain quality, a certain atmosphere, that is hard to ignore. One sits up and takes notice. The following are some examples: