PHOTOGRAPHY—OLD AND NEW.

Auckland Star, Volume LX, Issue 41, 18 February 1929, Page 6

PHOTOGRAPHY—OLD AND NEW.

Looking through an old album of my mother's, I was amazed to find prints taken 70 years ago in such a remarkable state of preservation. Another thing to marvel at was the serene

"something" in almost every pictured face, something so hard to describe. An expression of lives lived to some purpose; of a serious, rather thoughtful plan for meeting all that lite had to offer. Some had never left Home; others were

of pioneers setting off with courage in both hand? to the "land of milk and honey," but almost all had that purposeful look which to-day is much rarer. Certainly 00 or 70 vears ago folk had a

good deal fewer distractions—much longer time for solid reflection, which their portraits portray. Also, having one's picture taken in that age was quite a serious performance, and family groups were much beloved. Imagine, then, what an awesome performance it must have been for alt concerned, when mama, papa and ten offspring sat for half an hour at a time before an agitated,

perspiring photographer. Picture mama, her eyes painfully fixed on a spot a little to the right" of the camera. Baby on her knee is restless, yet she dare not move; the left white .-oek of the elder twin is creeping in untidy rucks down to his shoe again: Lucy, who stoops, has sagged again, yet mama must scarcely breathe. Tom and Dick need a severe whipping this very instant; they are quarrelling like bears beneath their breaths, and mama is sure they are looking fiendish. Why, oh. why would the cameraman insist that tinder and gunpowder shouid stand shoulder to shoulder in this photo. Father usually occupies the chair of state, with mother, a white hand resting rather stiffly on his broadcloth shoulder. This was not owing to lack of manners on father's part; it was simply that mother's superfine -silk gown might have full justice; but to-day. as mother has baby on her lap, father, a fine figure in lavender trousers, a shirt of wonderful linen, with innumerable handmade tucks, all but hidden by a coat of black "broads," poses in an attitude he has never achieved before or since. There are many such groups, hut the ones we linger over longest are of the quaint little maidens of twelve or thirteen, with their stiff silks over tiny hoops just clearing the tops of elastic-sided boots and white stockings. Their dimpled shoulders, the only childishlooking things about them, peeping coyly from the grandmotherly frock; one little hand on chair-back, in the other a tiny basket of flowers— the stock basket of flowers which to-day is the bride's bouquet. The little boys in long curls. with a topknot: their funny little shepherd plaid pants, neither long nor short, topped by a little coat of black velvet, and on the table, in proud repose, the littl<» (ilengarry. The whole a monument of best clothes, and best pose. Then the young husband and wife, who were really so very young, and yet looked so terribly sedate; yet how could one look frivolous in a black silk which could stand alone, and a coiffure a la Pompadour? Or seem a gay young dog in a Dundreary set of whiskers?

What a different photo world we live in now, when ever\- other girl and boy have their little snap-shotter, and the command is pose." When, instead of having to buy cumbersome cabinet photographs of scenes when touring, photographs costing 1/ each, travellers can m;ike their own interesting records. Thirty yearr,2o picture postcards were unknown. What would the photographer of 7<"> years ago think of a Tom Mix photoplay? Last week I saw an absent brother in a film play, and each time ne appeared I wanted him to stay just a little longer and I quite understood the feelings of the poor mother, who. during the war, spent hours in a cinema, patiently sitting through the sessions to see the brief appearance of her soldier son as he tramped in procession. Tt is a thrilling thing to see one's own on a film. Many years ago coloured photographs of famous pictures were much in vogue, and some of them were very beautiful. ;is copies, of course. and were much more faithful to the original than artists' reproductions. A particularly fine one was of that favourite picture in the Auckland Art Gallery, the group of women gazing out to sea awaiting the return of their knights. —G. EDITH BURTON*.