Forget me Not: Photography and Remembrance, the National Museum of photography, Film and Television, Bradford
'When cupid whispers in your ear, the name of one who counts you dear, O let my image then appear...' The conclusion of this popular saying from the 19th century, 'Forget Me Not', provides the title of the National Museum of Photography, Film and Television's (NMPFT) current exhibition.
The exhibition explores the way people have embellished photographs that were dear to them, often framing them in bizarre and baroque ways. It also asks whether photography keeps memories alive or is merely a substitute for 'true' memories.
Among the photographs that have been preserved, framed, stored or printed in unusual ways, there is a portrait of an unidentified man framed by a coil of plaited hair. This creepy memento dates from about 1890 and it comes from the NMPFT's collection.
It is one of many images of people whose identity we will never know; they include the American newly weds who stand stiffly holding hands, framed by the bride's veil and wax-and-fabric headband, or the absurdly kitsch tintypes of children. Tintypes are photographs made on a sheet of iron instead of a piece of paper.
They were cheap to make and popular in America during the late 1800s. There are four on show in Forget Me Not, garishly framed in gold glitter mounts.
The show is remarkably international. It comes from the Van Gogh Museum in Amsterdam (although sadly neither of the two surviving photographic portraits of the artist is included) and it has been curated by an Australian academic based in the US.
There are many loans from Germany, Holland, India and the US. Particularly eye-catching are the sunray collage of cigar labels with its black and white faces of men and women pasted over the top, and a gelatine print of a battleship framed improbably by painted butterfly wings.
Both are from the Americas and were made by an unknown artist early in the 20th century.
Not all the sitters are nameless. One of the most fascinating images on show comes from the Museu Nacional de Colombia, Bogota. It is portrait of General Jose Antonio Paez, who secured Colombia's independence. The print, which was officially issued in his memory, is surrounded in its frame by a wreath made from the old soldier's shirt.
On closer inspection you can see that some of the flowers are made from his buttons.
The exhibition includes examples of using multiple images to create a piece of visual autobiography, such as the honourable discharge certificate of Charles Doloth that includes photos of his US army buddies pasted onto a sheet of images showing his foreign postings.
Museums have rarely granted wall space to such strange, sentimental and often downright creepy compositions, created by ordinary people. A good example is the 1952 photo album assembled by Mrs Bourne during a once-in-a-lifetime trip to Los Angeles to visit her sister.
Her album includes tickets, menu cards and a newspaper cutting with the headline 'Mercury hits 97 record for Sept,' as well as her snapshots. These are remarkable images of ordinary people, which will prompt many visitors to remember their own family histories.
Forget Me Not has been curated by Geoffrey Batchen who teaches the history of photography at the Graduate Center of the City University of New York.
Unfortunately, he has a weakness for intellectual name dropping, which the Van Gogh Museum and the NMPFT have indulged. Peppering the exhibition, the bon mots of the usual suspects (if you are a graduate of the history of photography) are given prominent wall space.
These include Susan Sontag, Walter Benjamin and this Barthesian humdinger: 'Not only is the photograph never, in essence, a memory ... but it actually blocks memory, quickly becomes a counter memory.'
Batchen has discarded chronology in favour of 'clusters of specific practices' (themes to you and I) and the connection between his intellectual construct and the image often seems rather forced.
There is a case of photographic jewellery, for example - brooches, lockets and pendants that were meant to be opened or handled, 'a form of perpetual caress'. But there is nothing intimate about the space where they are displayed, near a fire exit and at the far end of the gallery.
The double-height space seems ill-suited to the small scale of many of the images and the lighting lacks intimacy.
Much is made of the three dimensionality of these lovingly crafted objects, but this is not emphasised by the two-dimensional way in which they are shown: they are often hung on a wall or laid flat in cases. And I struggled with the choice of an oppressive shade of burnt umber as a background colour.
Complementing the exhibition is a project called Memories are Made of This. The NMPFT has invited the public to show their personal photographic memories. Someone has lent her collection of photo badges, there are souvenir beer bottles celebrating a wedding in 1964, and school montages.
The photographs are imaginatively presented on tabletops, in the drawers and on the surface of a dressing table and in a fire screen, which emphasises their private and domestic nature.
Whatever its shortcomings, the curiosity value and power of strange photographs wins out in Forget Me Not.
Take the daguerreotype of a serious young woman who on 29 October 1859 wrote in a spidery hand: 'This is the likeness of Catherine Christ/When I am dead and in my grave/And my bones are rotten/Remember me/When you see this/Or I shall be forgotten.'
The combination of these words, her image and the leather wallet that has protected them for almost 150 years cast a compellingly morbid shadow.
Caroline Worthington is the curator of art at York Museums Trust
'When cupid whispers in your ear, the name of one who counts you dear, O let my image then appear...' The conclusion of this popular saying from the 19th century, 'Forget Me Not', provides the title of the National Museum of Photography, Film and Television's (NMPFT) current exhibition.
The exhibition explores the way people have embellished photographs that were dear to them, often framing them in bizarre and baroque ways. It also asks whether photography keeps memories alive or is merely a substitute for 'true' memories.
Among the photographs that have been preserved, framed, stored or printed in unusual ways, there is a portrait of an unidentified man framed by a coil of plaited hair. This creepy memento dates from about 1890 and it comes from the NMPFT's collection.
It is one of many images of people whose identity we will never know; they include the American newly weds who stand stiffly holding hands, framed by the bride's veil and wax-and-fabric headband, or the absurdly kitsch tintypes of children. Tintypes are photographs made on a sheet of iron instead of a piece of paper.
They were cheap to make and popular in America during the late 1800s. There are four on show in Forget Me Not, garishly framed in gold glitter mounts.
The show is remarkably international. It comes from the Van Gogh Museum in Amsterdam (although sadly neither of the two surviving photographic portraits of the artist is included) and it has been curated by an Australian academic based in the US.
There are many loans from Germany, Holland, India and the US. Particularly eye-catching are the sunray collage of cigar labels with its black and white faces of men and women pasted over the top, and a gelatine print of a battleship framed improbably by painted butterfly wings.
Both are from the Americas and were made by an unknown artist early in the 20th century.
Not all the sitters are nameless. One of the most fascinating images on show comes from the Museu Nacional de Colombia, Bogota. It is portrait of General Jose Antonio Paez, who secured Colombia's independence. The print, which was officially issued in his memory, is surrounded in its frame by a wreath made from the old soldier's shirt.
On closer inspection you can see that some of the flowers are made from his buttons.
The exhibition includes examples of using multiple images to create a piece of visual autobiography, such as the honourable discharge certificate of Charles Doloth that includes photos of his US army buddies pasted onto a sheet of images showing his foreign postings.
Museums have rarely granted wall space to such strange, sentimental and often downright creepy compositions, created by ordinary people. A good example is the 1952 photo album assembled by Mrs Bourne during a once-in-a-lifetime trip to Los Angeles to visit her sister.
Her album includes tickets, menu cards and a newspaper cutting with the headline 'Mercury hits 97 record for Sept,' as well as her snapshots. These are remarkable images of ordinary people, which will prompt many visitors to remember their own family histories.
Forget Me Not has been curated by Geoffrey Batchen who teaches the history of photography at the Graduate Center of the City University of New York.
Unfortunately, he has a weakness for intellectual name dropping, which the Van Gogh Museum and the NMPFT have indulged. Peppering the exhibition, the bon mots of the usual suspects (if you are a graduate of the history of photography) are given prominent wall space.
These include Susan Sontag, Walter Benjamin and this Barthesian humdinger: 'Not only is the photograph never, in essence, a memory ... but it actually blocks memory, quickly becomes a counter memory.'
Batchen has discarded chronology in favour of 'clusters of specific practices' (themes to you and I) and the connection between his intellectual construct and the image often seems rather forced.
There is a case of photographic jewellery, for example - brooches, lockets and pendants that were meant to be opened or handled, 'a form of perpetual caress'. But there is nothing intimate about the space where they are displayed, near a fire exit and at the far end of the gallery.
The double-height space seems ill-suited to the small scale of many of the images and the lighting lacks intimacy.
Much is made of the three dimensionality of these lovingly crafted objects, but this is not emphasised by the two-dimensional way in which they are shown: they are often hung on a wall or laid flat in cases. And I struggled with the choice of an oppressive shade of burnt umber as a background colour.
Complementing the exhibition is a project called Memories are Made of This. The NMPFT has invited the public to show their personal photographic memories. Someone has lent her collection of photo badges, there are souvenir beer bottles celebrating a wedding in 1964, and school montages.
The photographs are imaginatively presented on tabletops, in the drawers and on the surface of a dressing table and in a fire screen, which emphasises their private and domestic nature.
Whatever its shortcomings, the curiosity value and power of strange photographs wins out in Forget Me Not.
Take the daguerreotype of a serious young woman who on 29 October 1859 wrote in a spidery hand: 'This is the likeness of Catherine Christ/When I am dead and in my grave/And my bones are rotten/Remember me/When you see this/Or I shall be forgotten.'
The combination of these words, her image and the leather wallet that has protected them for almost 150 years cast a compellingly morbid shadow.
Caroline Worthington is the curator of art at York Museums Trust
Project data
Exhibition design: Van Gogh Museum, NMPFT Design Studio
Exhibition design: Van Gogh Museum, NMPFT Design Studio
