Posted by Lydia Kutko on February 12, 2010 02:59 p.m.
Countless mornings, before sleep lifts itself from heavy eyes and the sun is yet to rise, a shocking number of us creep pajama-clad to our computers for a Facebook photo album fix or a peak of last evening's salacious Twitter tales. We're captivated by the wondrous social web, the ever-expanding network of our lives that grows richer with each new "follow."
The Metropolitan Museum of Art's exhibition "Playing with Pictures: The Art of Victorian Photocollage" is an eye-opening view into the world of social networking 150 years ago. Photocollaging was largely an aristocratic women's handcraft, one of the few artistic outlets of which "kept" women were able to indulge. Victorian women endured great restrictions of expression; the Metropolitan's exhibition showcasing these rarely seen albums offers a unique angle in which to explore the interior lives and aspirations of a largely unheard class.
First, some background history. In 1854, French photographer Andre Disderi advanced the photographic medium through the production of small, cheap multiple portraits. These popular photographs, known as cartes de visite, ushered in "cardomania," the fervor of collecting and exchanging images of friends and family as a way of expanding upon or marking one's social standing.
At the same time, Upper Class women began personalizing the mechanical image by cutting up and rearranging photos into inventive narratives. What they produced was a magical blend of whimsy, visual creativity, and biting humor. The hybrid medium included vibrant watercolors, sketches, and writing. What came from the hands of these photocollagists was anything but common, however. In a profound way, the photocollage subtly asserts alternate visions and self-perceptions of a woman's role in the Victorian era.
Indeed, there are a number of technically impeccable "conversation piece" collages depicting parlor and garden scenes, where each backdrop follows expected convention. The figures are arranged logically and with respect to the social standing and relationship (either marital or political). Despite an established vernacular, individual styles did develop. On the pages of a few albums, the tiny faces of friends and family are adhered to painted images of fans, cameo necklaces, umbrellas, the tails feathers of a turkey, and playing cards!
It is clear that photocollaging was a fitting medium for Victorian women's oft-repressed fantasies. The possibility to re-imagine the real, to add the color and narrative that evaded them in daily life would certainly have been a tantalizing prospect. I personally was quite taken by Mary Georgiana Caroline, Lady Filmore's drawing room scene rendered in watercolor shades of cyan blue and hot pink (above). The powder puff mise-en-scene is anything but fluff; rather, Lady Filmore cleverly cut and pasted (early photoshop, dare we say?) the characters of her narrative into a tongue-and-cheek arrangement. The artist herself is the center of it all, shown at the large round table with paste pot and scissors at the ready. Leaning smugly toward her is The Prince of Wales, with whom she was rumored to share a romantic fancy. But woe be Lady Filmore's hopeless husband, whom she has given the dishonorable seat near the family dog, a position that perfectly suits his diminutive photographic stature.
The albums displayed in "Playing with Pictures" suggest that the act of photocollaging, of reframing reality according the maker's vision, was as much a form of expression as it was power. Today, as we sit hunched over our laptops, browsers opened to Facebook, we should consider what networks mean to us. At a basic level, social applications initiate the meet-and-greet process. However, whom we choose to network with can greatly alter the outcome of our personal and professional lives. As so aptly did our Victorian predecessors, we must use the devices we have at hand to project ourselves into the future we imagine. And this time, we are not relegated to the the parlor to effect great change in our lives.