Ambrotype or Daguerreotype? A quick and easy way to tell the difference

There are two types of cased images you might find in your family collection: ambrotypes and daguerreotypes.

The quick and easy way to tell the difference between the two is that a daguerreotype will look like a mirror when you move it in the light. An ambrotype will not.

I was thinking about this today when I put away an ambrotype I purchased on ebay. It was listed as a daguerreotype. I don't think this was a deliberate deception, just ignorance.

For more information about these hauntingly beautiful cased images, check out Wikipedia's entries for ambrotype and daguerreotype.

The daguerreotype entry says this:

Daguerreotypy continues to be practiced by enthusiastic photographers to this day, although in much smaller numbers; there are thought to be fewer than 100 worldwide. Its appeal lies in the "magic mirror" effect of light reflected from the polished silver plate through the perfectly sharp silver image, and in the sense of achievement derived from the dedication and hand-crafting required to make a daguerreotype.

Wait a minute...

There are artists who use these historic photo processes today?

Talk about a beautiful anachronism! I would pay oodles of money for a daguerreotype or ambrotype of an iPod. Not that I have a budget for that kind of frivolity, but still. The Wiki has several links to these contemporary artists if that idea intrigues you, too.

[photo credit] "Erika" Ambrotype on black glass by artist/photographer Quinn Jacobson. Made May 2007, Viernheim, Germany.

UPDATE: OK. Forget what I said about the iPod. That was just the first thing that came into my head. What I really want is to see a daguerreotype or ambrotype of the Neverwas Haul.
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Coffee-stained cyanotypes

Sometimes, you put a question out to the universe and something marvelous comes back. Just last week, I featured DIY Maven's neat-o method for antiquing paper using instant coffee. I mused about how cool it would be to dye photographs using coffee. Ersatz sepia. (Read the original post here.)

Then I got an email from my friend Bob. Turns out his brother makes his own cyanotypes. Then he dyes them in wine. Or he dyes them in coffee.

The result is spooky-cool, and the images look like they've washed up from another era. Those hauntingly beautiful plastic hummingbirds you see above are just one example. There's even an El Camino, be still my heart. Check out Mark's photography blog.


What is a cyanotype?
To create a cyanotype all you need is two chemicals, negative film, sunlight and water. The two chemicals dissolved in water become a photo-sensitive solution that you paint onto paper. After exposure to UV rays and rinsing in water, the two chemicals react in such a way that you are left with a permanent dye called Prussian Blue.

If you've ever seen a vintage blueprint, you've seen a cyanotype.

The process was discovered in 1842, but it didn't become photography until Anna Atkins got her hands on it a year later. Ms. Atkins -- a scientist who is credited as the first female photographer -- created a limited series of cyanotypes by pressing ferns and other botanical specimens onto the light sensitive paper and exposing them to sunlight.

Read more about cyanotypes in (on?) The Wiki.





[Photo Credits: Mark Hemauer, Anna Atkins cyanotypes via wikipedia.]

Mighty purty typewriter

The Wisconsin Historical Society is celebrating the first mass produced typewriter. There's a wonderful five-minute read on their website. It also includes links to more information.

Highlights include:

• Bigger, juicier photos. This beautiful antique makes my iPod look cold, lifeless and dead. And I lurrrve my iPod.
  


• It wasn't the inventor who licensed the technology rights to Remington Co...it was his business partner. Seems the inventor was a little short on cash in the 1870s and sold away his rights. Ouch.
  


• One of the first things Mark Twain ever typed, which includes the following: "...only practici?ng ti get the hang of the thing." I kid you not.

Read it here.

P.S. I am now dreaming of a Victorian steampunk computer. Someone's already transformed a 1924 Underwood No. 5 typewriter into a computer, so I figure it's possible.

Photo Credit: Wisconsin Historical Society

Free Historic MP3s

Fill your iPod at unbeatable prices.

The amazing Cylinder Preservation and Digitization Project at the University of California at Santa Barbara includes 6,000 digitized wax-cylinder recordings dating back to 1895. The collection includes Tin Pan Alley music, vaudeville performances and advertisements.

As the official press release says: "The primary goal of the project was to make the collection available to researchers and the public." Since this is a public university and not a commercial enterprise, access is completely free. You can even download a copy for your own personal use at no charge.

Search tips. To search for the title of a particular song, type it into the Keyword Search bar. I typed in the title of a song my dad used to sing to me. He learned in the army decades after this recording was made. I wouldn't be surprised to learn they still sing it.



If there is a digital copy available, your results page will include this crucial bit:



If you just want to hear it and don't necessarily want to keep a copy on your computer, click the triangle in the grey bar. That will stream the music to your computer.

If you'd like to download a copy for your own private use, you are welcome to click on the "MP3 file" link. For more information about copyright restrictions and what to do if you can't hear any music, visit the project website FAQ.

Much to my delight, the collection includes two versions of the army classic "Oh How I Hate to Get Up in the Morning."One sung by Arthur Fields and one by Irving Kaufman. So far, only the Fields version is available digitally, and therefore it's the version currently on my iPod.

Browsing. If you don't have a research agenda, I recommend one of the radio streams.

Disclaimer. I'm including this disclaimer because I believe it's the only ethical way for archivists to provide access to racist materials. We need to preserve them because if they all disappeared I'm absolutely certain it wouldn't be long before everyone convinced themselves that it was just an exaggeration because, c'mon -- they couldn't possibly have been all that bad.

From the project website:

Disclaimer About "Dialect Recordings"

"Coon songs," "rube sketches," "Irish character songs," and other dialect recordings that were popular in vaudeville routines and genres of songs during the late 19th and early 20th century often contain negative stereotypes and portrayals of blacks and other ethnic groups. These recordings reflect the attitudes, perspectives, and beliefs of different times. Many individuals will find the content offensive. Some of these songs and recitations were written or performed by members of the ethnic group in question, while others were not, such as the tradition of blackface minstrelsy of whites performing caricatured portrayals of blacks. To exclude these cylinders from the digital collection would deprive scholars and the public the opportunity to learn about the past and would present a distorted picture of popular culture and music making during this time period. The mission of the UCSB Libraries is to make its resources available to the faculty, staff, and students of the University community and to the general public. The UCSB Libraries presents these documents as part of the record of the past and does not endorse the views expressed in these collections.

Dedication. This post is dedicated to my library school pal, Mr. David Seubert. I found out about this amazing project via a copy of the New York Times discarded in an airport lounge. An absurdly random occurrence. I literally whooped when I read David's name in the article. Right now while I type this, David is (possibly) driving a rental car to Colorado because his flight into Denver was cancelled. Six foot snow drifts will do that, I've read.


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Photo Credits: UC Santa Barbara, SignOnSanDiego.com

Anachronism.

1. Something located at a time when it could not have existed or occurred.
2. An artifact that belongs to another time.
3. A person who seems to be displaced in time; who belongs to another age.

Definition from WordNet® 2.1, © 2005 Princeton University, via dictionary.com.