The American Journal of Photography, Vol. XI, No. 7, July 1890

In Short

This journal is a monthly compendium of the 1890 photographic scene, serving as both a professional manual and a social bulletin for the trade. It details the chemistry of print-drying, the mechanics of silhouette portraiture, and the logistical preparations for the Eleventh Annual Convention of the Photographic Association of America. By blending instructional advice with editorials on professional etiquette and reports from global scientific expeditions, it provides a window into the era's obsession with technical precision, aesthetic standards, and the growing collective identity of photographers worldwide.

The Story

The narrative of this volume begins with a celebration of historical portraiture, specifically a 1795 silhouette of George Washington. This serves as a gateway into the evolution of profile portraiture, detailing how the art form—often derided as the “silhouette” due to the perceived stinginess of its namesake, the French Minister of Finance—became a staple of American culture through specialized mechanical tracers in Peale’s Museum. From this historical anchor, the text shifts to the immediate, practical anxieties of the 1890 professional: the high stakes of chemical baths, the dangers of stained prints, and the proper handling of ammonia in humid weather.

The focus then widens to the collective efforts of the Photographic Association of America. The editors frame the upcoming Washington convention as a pivotal moment for the industry, emphasizing the unveiling of a Daguerre memorial at the Smithsonian. This section acts as a call to arms, urging practitioners to professionalize, pay their dues, and uphold moral standards. The editorial tone turns sharp and cautionary when discussing the behavior of amateur photographers, recounting an embarrassing confrontation in a rural German-American community where a haughty urban photographer and a clergyman are soundly rebuked by a local trustee for their trespassing and lack of manners.

The final arc of the journal expands the scope to global scientific inquiry. It provides detailed accounts of eclipse photography, tracing the transition from the temperamental wet-plate process to the more reliable dry plates used in international expeditions to places like Guntoor and Cayenne. The volume concludes with a blend of technical troubleshooting—such as remedies for stubborn yellow stains on negatives—and summaries of photographic progress in places like Rome and Alexandria. The overarching arc is one of maturation: the amateur becomes a professional, the local practitioner becomes a global scientist, and the ephemeral "sun drawing" of the early century is cemented into a disciplined, historic pursuit worthy of permanent monuments.

How It Unfolds

The silhouette’s legacy The journal opens with an exploration of 18th-century profile art, tracing the linguistic and cultural history of the term “silhouette.” It explains how mechanical devices were later employed to mass-produce these likenesses, bridging the gap between fine art and everyday portraiture.

The chemical craft Technical articles provide granular instructions on the safe drying of silver and blue prints, warning against the pitfalls of wooden poles and uneven gelatine contraction. These passages emphasize that even at the final stage of production, a lack of professional neatness can destroy weeks of work.

A call to the convention The text shifts to the administrative mechanics of the upcoming Photographic Association of America gathering. It outlines the specific criteria for judging photographs, prioritizing historic value, originality, and technique over mere technical novelty.

The social friction A candid, illustrative anecdote details the conflict between elite urban photographers and the rural subjects they attempt to document. This beat serves as a stern lecture on the necessity of courtesy and respect for private property in the pursuit of the perfect image.

The evolution of the plate The latter portion of the journal charts the history of capturing solar eclipses through the camera lens. It documents the frustrating, often failed, early attempts with wet plates and the eventual standardization of dry-plate technology for astronomical research.

The People

• Thos. H. McCollin and J. F. Sachse: As the journal’s editors, they act as the gatekeepers of professional standards, guiding the reader through technical nuances while consistently pushing for the industry's social and scientific legitimacy.
• George Washington: Appearing as the subject of the issue’s featured silhouette, he represents the "historic" ideal that the journal encourages its readers to emulate in their own work.
• The Rev. Dr. ----: A cautionary figure, this preacher serves as an example of how an amateur photographer—despite his social standing—can fall into disgrace by failing to treat rural communities with basic human courtesy.
• The Pennsylvania Dutch Trustee: He acts as the voice of local authority and moral clarity, forcefully ejecting the trespassing photographers to defend his land, serving as a foil to the photographers' arrogance.
• Louis Daguerre: He is the foundational figure of the trade, whose memory is the central focus of the association's efforts to erect a national monument, symbolizing the transition of photography from a hobby to a noble, history-making profession.

In Its Own Voice

“The profile of Washington in possession of the Historical Society of Pennsylvania, inscribed ‘S. Folwell, Pinxt, 1795,’ is said to have been taken upon a public occasion, the President being unaware of the fact.”

This note explains the candid, involuntary nature of a historically significant portrait of the first American president.

“There is a class of persons, largely represented among the guild of amateur photographers, who presume entirely too much on their wealth or social standing.”

The editors offer this blunt critique of the entitlement often displayed by wealthy hobbyists during field outings.

What It's Really About

The journal is fundamentally about the tension between the artist’s ambition and the physical limitations of their materials. It argues that photography is not merely a mechanical process but a disciplined craft requiring scientific rigor, historical awareness, and, above all, social responsibility. It tackles the existential questions of the medium: How does one elevate a "sun drawing" to the level of fine art? How does a loose collection of practitioners become a coherent, respected professional class? The text suggests that the future of photography depends as much on the photographer’s manners and administrative commitment as it does on their mastery of the darkroom.

Why Read It Today

Readers with an interest in the history of science or the evolution of professional guilds will find this volume deeply engaging. It captures the specific, mid-development anxiety of a craft that was rapidly becoming too sophisticated for the uninitiated. The prose is earnest and precise, reflecting a time when instructions were meant to be followed with surgical care. You will encounter the distinct, dry wit of the 1890s, particularly in the reporting of social blunders and international critiques of American art.

The technical advice, while largely obsolete, is fascinating for its glimpses into a high-labor, high-risk era of the hobby, where the risk of failure was always present in the darkroom. The primary difficulty for the modern reader is the highly specific chemical and industrial jargon, as well as the occasionally elitist tone regarding who qualifies as a "true" photographer. However, the vividness of the accounts—such as the heated confrontation in the German counties—remains startlingly relatable. Reading this is like standing in a dusty, chemical-scented studio, watching the foundation of modern visual culture being laid with great care and even greater pride.