A quick history of the daguerreotype

(Such a cool word that I was never sure how to pronounce: duh-GARE-uh-type)

On this day (January 9) in 1839, the daguerreotype, which many consider the first viable photographic process, was publicly announced at the French Academy of Science. It was also announced in the London periodical The Athenaeum the same month and stirred great interest in England.  

Daguerreotype of Edgar Allen Poe. By Edwin H. Manchester, 1848

As with many inventions, photography emerged as the result of several inventors working individually and in collaboration. In 1826, what some consider the first photograph was taken by the Frenchman Joseph-Nicephore Niepce. It was of a barn. However, it required an 8-hour exposure time. This was not particularly viable in many cases – portraits, for example.

The first daguerreotype, which required less than half an hour, was taken in 1838, when Daguerre captured the Boulevard du Temple in Paris, including a shoe-shiner and his customer in the lower left-hand quadrant (near the curb).

The daguerreotype quickly became popular and was recognized as a major step forward in modes of representation. Edgar Allen Poe called it “the most important, and perhaps the most extraordinary triumph of modern science,” and the artist, critic, and author John Ruskin claimed, “Amongst all the mechanical poison that this terrible nineteenth century has poured upon men, it has given us at any rate one antidote: the daguerreotype” (1845).

What’s the backstory?

Louis Jacques Daguerre

Louis Jacques Daguerre was born November 18, 1787 in Cormeilles-en-Parisis, France (died 1851, the year of the Great Exhibition at the Crystal Palace in London). Daguerre’s early professional life included being an artist and an assistant set designer for stage plays. He strove to dazzle his audience with realistic scenes that represented day turning to night and good weather to bad, and created the impression of motion. He later called them “dioramas,” or “dramas of light.” His illusions depended on representing objects realistically, which he accomplished with the help of a camera obscura.

The “camera obscura” – a light-proof box, with a lens, through which an image passed – had long been used by artists as a tool to increase the accuracy of representing three-dimensional objects in two dimensions. With an object’s image projected on paper or canvas, the artist could then more accurately sketch his or her representation of the object.

Basic mechanism of the camera obscura

Daguerre became interested in finding a way to fix the image on a surface or plate without the artist’s intervention. Building on the work of Niepce, he sought a special material that might capture an image inside the camera obscura and then stop capturing anything more, so the image was rendered permanent.

Daguerre eventually hit upon using silver-plated copper sheets, which he treated with iodine to make them sensitive to light. After projecting the image onto them in the presence of light, he exposed the plates to warm mercury vapor, which combined with the silver to fix the image. A saline wash prevented further exposure.

The daguerreotype was popular into the mid-1850s, when new technologies including glass negatives and paper prints, which had the advantage of being reproducible, evolved.

Ghosts of Rosy

Returning home late last night from Boston, I drove into our garage and missed Rosy’s nose pushing the door out, which she always did when she heard a car. The absence came at me with the force of a presence; I didn’t even know that I expected that door nudged open, that I looked for the small black nose, every time I drove into the garage, which was probably 5 times a day.

In the dark middle of the night, I woke and stepped around what could have been her on the carpet but was just George’s shirt. This morning, I found myself watching for poop or puddles on the floor as I made my way to the kitchen. Of course there weren’t any. (I have to say, I don’t miss those, per se.) As I brewed my coffee, my gaze drifted to the corner to check the water level in her two bowls — two, because sometimes she’d be extra thirsty at night, and we didn’t want her going outside, drinking the pool water, and falling in. But of course the bowls were gone. And at my desk, when I picked up her collar, with two metal tags that clink with a particular tone, to put it in my memorabilia box, Kyle came hurrying down the hallway, his eyes wide and wondering, as if by some magic she was back.

My mind was wrapped around Rosy in a way I didn’t even realize. Oh, I knew I cherished her and I spent a lot of time walking her and petting her — and at the end, doing whatever I could to make her comfortable. But I didn’t realize how she was present like dog hair on the office chair … thousands of small thread-like bits throughout my day.

What bring some joy to my heart, though, is that when I “see” her around the house today, my memories are largely from several months ago, when she was still healthy and not struggling. This morning, I walked outside to take some trash to the curb and when I came up the walkway to the glass front door, in my mind’s eye, I could clearly see her little face watching for me. She’s still here.

Love is stronger than death.

Thank you again, to my friend Anne Morgan, for this lovely card, for all the sympathy cards and messages I received, and to all those who knew and loved my beagle.

If you would like to share a story about your pet, please do so in the comments. #joy