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Doubly foreign: vintage photographic souvenirs

If the past is another country, then the past of another country might be doubly foreign, I guess.

When I travel overseas I’m naturally drawn to flea markets and vintage stores and among the things I like to buy are photographs and negatives. In dusty cabinets in old stores, on cluttered blankets on the ground at flea markets, at fetes and village yard sale days I hope to see them: tatty paper pouches of old negs and snapshots, cardboard boxes full of glass plate negs or old photo albums.

Sometimes particular photo albums excite me enough to pay well. The photos might be of unusually good quality, of interesting subjects or otherwise appealing. I’ve bought bags full of old family snaps on the strength of half-a-dozen exceptional images. And as for negs, well, I’ve a lot of practice at gauging their quality and subject matter on the spot, but I love collections of them mostly because of the element of surprise they bring. To buy a collection of old negatives is to buy a treasure hunt. Like a shovel full of gold-bearing dirt, waiting to be washed and panned, a collection of negs will be – I know – mostly dross. But in among the out-of-focus pictures of people with pets and babies posed against nondescript backdrops with their heads or feet cut off there is quite often a small percentage of what I regard as gems. The best of the gems are photos remarkable for their composition and quality and subject matter. And sometimes just for some indefinable attribute – an atmosphere or feeling they evoke that elevates them (in my eyes at least).

Foreign images have another dimension too, simply because they are foreign. In the same way that one language can convey meanings that don’t quite exist in another, photography in different parts of the world (in the past at least, before the great homogenisation of the internet) also speaks in subtly different tones. It’s costumes and scenery, backdrops and physiognomies, of course, but it’s more than that too. Fossilised on film are expectations, boasts, social and historical norms, shadows of wars and much more than can be put into words. I’ll share a few examples with you, in the hope that I can show you something of what I’m trying to say.

Japan

These images are from glass negatives found at a Tokyo flea market. They appear to date from the 1930s.

Although it’s out of focus and perhaps a little under-exposed I love this beautifully evocative image. The cloud-capped mountain, the expanse of water, the sparse trees and the two figures – one on horseback – outside the timber building combine magically to my mind’s eye.
This image of picnickers in Japan combines the foreign (the traditional dress, the low tables with their cushions) and the familiar (the idea of the picnic itself, with the bottled drinks) in a very appealing way.
This group photograph speaks to me of Japan’s 1930s militarism, leading to its incursions into neighbouring nations and the horrors of World War 2. The well-dressed gentlemen at left and the women in traditional dress are balanced by the harsh element of the stern-faced men in uniform.

Belgium

These glass plates were found at a flea market in Brussels.

The contrast between the formal dress and the playful pose on the playground carousel is what makes this image delightful.

Sweden

This set of glass plates came from an antique shop in the Haga tourist strip in Gothenburg, Sweden.

Swedes make the most of pleasant weather. I like the characters, the tea setting and the typical Swedish architecture evident in the background.
Immaculately dressed for the occasion, this couple and child appear to posing in front of their shop. I particularly like the body language, and the abundant evidence of the trouble the couple has gone to in preparing for the photograph.
The same proud couple, this time inside their shop. So much to be seen in the store’s stock and fittings.

Hungary

These negatives were found in Leura, NSW, but appear to have been taken in Hungary. So, not quite so much a souvenir of my own travels, as much as a record of what I presume (based on other photos in the set) to be a well-to-do pre-war immigrant family.

Stiffly posed in a shiny automobile on a tree-line European boulevarde. Perhaps it’s Budapest?
The pose. The swimsuits. The characters. And the vintage advertising, which is most definitely promoting a Hungarian product.
I like this photo for its sharp focus and well framed composition. The immaculate and expensive costumes of the women match the car.

Serbia

I have visited parts of the former Yugoslavia a couple of times, but I bought these negatives on-line. They were bought in a market in Serbia, I was told.

This group portrait is perhaps eloquent on the topic of patriarchy. The costumes are fascinating and delightful, and the damage to the broken negative adds “patina” to the already other-worldly image.
Sometimes a photograph is so bad it transcends its own flaws and becomes something like art. This bizarre image, with the truncated musician, the frowning woman and the dogs in a pastoral landscape strikes me as such a photo. It’s terrible, but I like it.
I find this pastoral scene delightful. Young and old are at work on the task, with vintage implements in use alongside a steam-powered traction engine, supplying power to the machine in the background. Are they threshing grain?

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