legacy/archival issues

[Kirk Gittings]

The other day I had the opprortunity to visit a 32 year old print of mine at a friend's house. I had not seen the print in 30 years. I took it out of the frame to look at it closely and I was pleased to find it in perfect condition. Aside from a little yellowing of the exposed mat, the print could have been made yesterday. I was pleased that the efforts that I went to 32 years ago to assure the archiveability and legacy of my work had been properly done. I am attempting to maximize the longevity as much as I can today with digital.

Our conversation switched to digital issues and I remarked to him that the ink/paper combination that he was using, according to Wilhelm, suggested that his prints would begin showing significant aging by 50 years. After debating the accuracy of Wilhelm's predictions (he has been notoriously wrong in the past a couple of times), my friends response was (which I have heard many times from digital people):

"but what do I care, I'll be dead by then anyway".

I was a little dumbstruck by that responce, but as I said I have heard it many times before even from traditional printers who knowingly short cut archival processing. At the risk of sounding pompous, to me photographs are a bit like children that you try to prepare properply to survive in the world. Once they are out of your hands they are out of your control and you hope your hard work will contribute to their survival.

Maybe my brain was a little twisted by many years of studying art history, but I believe that your life work is the only possible path to any kind of imortality. Your relatives will remember you for a couple of generations, but maybe, just maybe, your art work will survive and be valued for longer. Why is that important? Maybe its not. Maybe I'm just insecure. I'm not really sure except that life is awfully short and I am not at all convinced that there is any kind of life after death. For the same reasons, I have made great efforts (with some success) to get my work into museums so that my images will be properly cared for.

Aside from marketing hype to potential buyers, why else but a kind of imortality would we care if our work lasts past our deaths?

[Emrehan Zeybekoglu]

The only consolation is knowing that there are always those who care about any human creation that involves some thought, labor, skill and artistic vision. It is equally distressing, however, to think how many works of art may have disappeared throughout history simply because of the attitude you are talking about. On the other hand, one might speculate that this attitude is perhaps correlated with technical and technological progress that enables mass production of goods and democratization of art. All in all, whatever explains your friend's frustrating response, you should be proud of your sense of professionalism and achievement back then.

[Ralph Barker]

While I agree that "immortality" is an awfully big word, even when considered in small measures, it's the best one we have for the ability to be seen or understood in some way by generations to come. Conveniently, it applies both to our artistic efforts and what might otherwise be dismissed as family snapshots.

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my grandfather as a young boy with his older sisters, and later (1909) in a marriage photo

[George Stewart]

There is no question, we are all immortal. That being said, I still have a strong desire for my work, in this world, to survive.

I think that I'd like to have a 30 page book, with about 15 of my best images, plus some words about each and a little dity about myself. I see each page, text included, printed in platinum on the finest paper. The binding will have to be equally archival. The whole thing shall be enclosed in a dry-nitrogen filled, bomb-proof container. Finally, since the container will be ion welded closed, it shall be inscribed with the directions for, and when it should be, opened. Perhaps 10,000 years after my death, it could be opened, imaged as well as prodded and pocked then, perhaps it could be resealed for another 10,000 years. Perhaps I'll toss in a few gold coins to pay for resealing and future storage. It might even be fun to descend out of heaven (or climb out of hell) to experience all the hoopla.

Just think, long after Monet's paintings have disintigrated, my photo's could still exist.

[Kirk Gittings]

" Conveniently, it applies both to our artistic efforts and what might otherwise be dismissed as family snapshots. "

Ralph, those are marvelous and that was well said, touche (sp?)!

P.S. I have nothing against a little graceful aging in people as well as art. Silver prints, if processed properly, will age gracefully. Will that be true of inkjet as well? I fear not.

[Oren Grad]

I like Ralph's example, too.

Certainly, we are now surrounded by pictures, and the tools for making them have never been cheaper, easier to use or more widely distributed - surely posterity wouldn't notice the absence of any particular handful of images.

But I would be surprised if future generations did not share our delight in discovering, and rediscovering, old photographs that show us what the world looked like way back when. All the more so when they are embodied in the much less common artifact of beautiful prints, physical objects that reflect mastery of craft as well as a tangible connection with the past. Even if the photographer's name is long forgotten, and even if his work was created with no such intention, it is a kind of gift to the future.

So just do the work you love to do, and do it as well and in as lasting a way as you can, for your own satisfaction today - but know that in doing so you will likely end up giving a precious gift of inspiration and delight to someone you will never know.

[Nick Morris]

Several years ago my daughter showed me a photo she bought in a thrift store. It is an 8x10 B&W print that appears to have been taken in the in the '40s or '50s of the Washington Monument. It was in a cheap gold-colored 8x10 metal frame. She paid $1.00 for it. She bought it because she likes it. As a matter a fact, so do I.
Is it a work of Art? I don't know. Who took it? What equipment was used? Was it archively processed? I don't know. But I couldn't help thinking that if 50, 60, or more years from now someone browsing a thrift store finds a photo of mine, and buys it for $1.00, just because they like it, then my soul, were ever it may be residing, will smile.

[Mark Sawyer]

I think rather than work for gallery owners, publishers, or a current audience, I'll photograph for posterity. Posterity never sends back rejection letters...