In the trunk of family papers and
mementos which my aunt left me several years ago, there were a dozen “case”
photos, or what are loosely called daguerreotypes – portraits on glass, bound in
ornate gilt brass frames and set in velvet-lined molded cases. All the pictures
had been identified by my schoolteacher great-aunt (bless her!) in her
copybook handwriting, and all of them were in excellent condition except one.
Its condition was deplorable. It was, of course, the one most interesting to
me, since it was a rare and early (1857) family picture including my
grandfather and my great-grandfather, the Rev. George Warren Richardson.
According to my great-aunt’s
notation, there were supposed to be five people in the picture, but only three
could be made out: the dim figures of great-grandfather George, his wife
Caroline (Fay), seated, with my grandfather David as a very young child
standing by his father’s knee. The head of a fourth figure, that of the
nursemaid and housekeeper, was barely discernible in the background; and the
fifth figure, of another child, had completely disappeared.
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| The ambrotype in its deplorable condition |
The other case portraits were of collateral relatives and frustratingly clear – lovely tinted tintypes and glass ambrotypes. Why did the most important one have to be the one in such poor condition? Nevertheless, I copied it along with other family photos; the results were predictably disappointing, and I set it aside as not worth reproducing.
Some time later, I had the
opportunity to attend a seminar on the archival care and conservation of
photographs. It was conducted by expert Peter Palmquist at the Reading Museum
and Art Center, Redding, California. The second day’s session was for family
historians; we were to bring examples of what we had, especially problems.
My problem picture was an
ambrotype, a successor to the true daguerreotype, but similar in process and
appearance. The emulsion is fixed on the glass plate as a negative image. By
providing a black background, the viewer sees the image as a positive.
Ambrotypes are usually backed by a coating of asphalt or simply black paper.
Although there are risks, many times such pictures can be relatively easily
restored by using new black paper (acid-free, please – photographic print paper
is good). Handling should be kept to a minimum; the brass encasing the glass
becomes brittle as it is bent and unbent, and tends to break. There is also the
possibility that the whole picture will disintegrate.
The problem with my picture proved
to be more difficult. Peter volunteered to take the thing apart, if I was
willing; I might lose what little could still be seen. But I felt it was worth
the risk, the portrait being unusable as it was (and I did have a copy of it).
So, with all of us holding our
breath, Peter carefully pried the packet out of the case, and gently unfolded
the brass enclosure. The packet was a sandwich of two pieces of glass, a plain
clear one on the bottom, and the glass with a negative image on top with the
emulsion side inward. Between them as filling was a scrap of black velvet
cloth: here was the reason for the poor quality of the picture – the velvet had
crocked, depositing little particles of fuzz all over the emulsion negative.
Peter lifted the glass negative
carefully off the velvet and held it up to the light. We could see immediately
that the image itself was intact and whole, and all five figures were clearly
visible. It was quite a moment, as we all exhaled!
Peter was able to remove the fuzz
and make some excellent 8 x 10 prints for me, using the original glass plate
negative. From these large prints I can make my own modern negative. This rare
portrait of his family and George Richardson himself as a young paterfamilias
may eventually grace his autobiography as its frontispiece; and the glass
negative is safely back in its brass gilt frame and molded case, wrapped in
soft cloth and none the worse for wear.
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| The same picture, restored |
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