A few months ago I posted that I had to take a break from my Substack due to family circumstances - a rather cryptic note I am afraid, but I couldn’t find the words. I still can’t find the words if I am honest and I am not sure how comfortable I feel writing this, and yet, here I am.

My work has always been about my family, my memories, my experiences - I suppose one could say that my work is a visual memoir. Writing has also been a part of my work too - I journal for the most personal parts and blog for the shared experience.

Today, I am writing about my family again. My husband; my best friend, has died. Geoff and I have been married for 33 years and have hardly spent a day apart - it has now been three weeks.

Why am I telling this to people who don’t know me, let alone, Geoff? I am not sure why to be honest. I am not sure if this article will stay. Maybe it is my way to tell the world how much I love him and how important he was to me and our family. I am also writing this to acknowledge his integral part in my work. Geoff was my biggest supporter. Every exhibition, workshop, lecture that I did - he was there, with the kids. We did everything together - I would always say that my work was their work too. I could not have done any of this without Geoff, Abe and Fleur.

It wasn’t just my photographic work. Geoff really encouraged me to start this Substack. When Geoff was first diagnosed with Cancer, nearly three years ago, I struggled to make new work. The idea of writing about Women photographers came from him - it was a way to take my mind off the cancer and the endless treatments. Geoff was always much braver and more pragmatic than me.

Three months ago I was in the National Portrait Gallery archives researching Eveleen Myers and just before that I was at the Imperial War Museum writing about Olive Edis. I would go down with Geoff as he was on a clinical trial at Bart’s Hospital. These articles are on hold for now.

As with my photography, I think I may struggle in the coming weeks to return to Women Who See. However, I promised Geoff that I will continue with it and return to my photographic work too. And I will.

In the meantime, I thank you for your patience and and support. I thank all those who have reached out to me privately and apologise for not replying to everyone.

Thank you as always for your generous time and support and I look forward to sharing more amazing women in the coming weeks.

Myra Albert Wiggins (1869-1956)

Myra Albert Wiggins (1869-1956)

At the beginning of the twentieth century, the photographer Myra Albert Wiggins was a leading participant of the photographic movement, Pictorialism. Born 1869 in Salem, Oregon in the United States, Wiggins had a passion for art and went to college to study it. At this time she developed an interest in photography along with her brother - the two of them bought a camera together.

In 1891, Myra moved to New York to study painting at the Arts Students League and pursued her interest in photography. A path that echoes other photographers including Alice Boughton(1866-1943) and Gertrude Käsebier (1852-1934) who both went to art college to become painters but went on to become photographers. However, unlike Boughton and Käsebier, Wiggins would paint for most of her life.

As well as attending college, Wiggins joined the Society of Amateur Photographers and New York’s Camera Club - unlike Alice Austen (1866-1952) who refused to join any kind of photographic club.

Whilst in New York, Myra met the photographer, Alfred Stieglitz(1864-1946) - forming a friendship based upon their mutual respect of their photography. In 1903, Stieglitz invited Wiggins to join the influential Photo-Secession Group in which she exhibited with them, thus confirming her reputation both nationally and internationally.

Throughout the 1890’s right through to the 1910’s Myra was the recipient of many awards for her photography - prizes that included cash and cameras. One such award was for her beautifully evocative, if somewhat sentimental photograph, Hunger is der Beste Koche, made around 1899. The image is of her young daughter, dressed in Dutch costume, sitting at a kitchen table, eating a bowl of porridge. This beautifully poignant image works, not just as a work of art but technically too. I sometimes think we forget the hours spent mastering some of these techniques - especially processes such as bromoil, carbon printing, platinum and photogravure. The lighting is exquisite and resembles that of the Dutch masters - something that Wiggins was interested in as a painter. I think we can see her painterly skills reflected in her photography.

Pictorialism falls in and out of favour. I know many that dislike it - it is seen as sentimental. Many favour photography to be ‘straight’. I love both and think there is room for both and it is what makes photography so exciting. There is no doubt that Wiggins’ photos are emotional and sentimental but they are open to interpretation and that is powerful.

I also like to reimagine the woman behind the camera. I often think of them setting up the image - working out the light and their exposure times. Then, off to the darkroom to develop their plates or film and begin the often laborious and challenging photographic printing - processes that bring their vision to life. These women are incredibly skilled. I understand as someone who has worked with some of these processes and large format cameras, that this can be a long drawn out process and sometimes exhausting and frustrating. And yet, Myra produced the most exquisite images - full of beauty and emotion - images that require one to stand and look deeply and ones that you return to again and again.

Whilst researching Myra Albert Wiggins, I came across a copy of her ‘Letters from a Pilgrim’ where she writes about her adventures to Jerusalem in 1904. Myra was selected to go on a Christian pilgrimage to Jerusalem; she would attend the World’s Fourth Sunday School Convention. For Wiggins, however, this was not just a pilgrimage of faith, it was also an opportunity to photograph and attend some photographic exhibitions in Europe, including London, Paris and Bradford.

I have to admit that when I saw that she went to an exhibition in Bradford, I was intrigued. On Wednesday, May 26, Wiggins writes; We are spending the night here at Bradford where we arrived at 4.30 this afternoon. I came to see the Photographic exhibition, as it is an important one.¹ The exhibition in question was the 1904 Bradford exhibition - a six months civic event in Lister Park that ran from May until October. In this exhibition, photography played a significant role and showcased the work of Edward Stieglitz and the Photo-Secession group. Wiggins makes no mention as to whether her work was included. The exhibition wasn’t just about photography, it also included a controversial and rather outrageous ‘Somali village’ in which 57 Somali men, women and children were exhibited as if in a human zoo - it was seen as one of the main attractions with an estimated 350,000 visitors.

However, a few days later Myra Wiggins arrives, with her friend Mrs Park, in Paris in which they attend another photographic exhibition - this time at the Photographic Salon. To her surprise she finds that her work is on display and her name is in the catalogue. Stieglitz had not told her that she would find her work in this exhibition and although she was gracious in her response, I personally question why he did not tell her. As a photographer myself, I understand how one can feel a certain sense of loss of control once it goes out into the world and I certainly feel that Stieglitz has a lot of control over her work here. Wiggins writes:

I crossed over to the Petit Palace, to the Photographic Salon and there I stayed until it closed at 6 o’clock. As I paid my franc and entered I picked up one of the catalogues which were for sale near the door and in my best French asked the girl if the American work was listed in it, she answered yes, so I bought one and started in. You can imagine my surprise when I found that two of my pictures were hung and catalogued. I did not recognize them by their French names at first but soon puzzled them out, “Still Life” and the other one, “The Edge of the Cliff” the girl found for me.²

I think that it is interesting to note that during this period of Wiggins’ life, she was married with a child. I find it really heartening that she is still holding onto her identity as a photographer and artist as well as being a mother and wife. Throughout this trip, Wiggins would write and photograph her adventure - often developing her film back at her room late into the night. On June 12, Wiggins arrived back in New York, having travelled across Europe as well as Turkey, Greece, Algeria, Malta and Jerusalem.

In 1907, Myra’s husband Fred started a plant nursery and the family moved to Toppenish, Washington. At this time, Myra decided to set up a studio to help with the family finances, but from now on, she devoted herself to painting rather than photography. However, she did continue to exhibit her photography for many years to come.

In 1930 she co-founded the Women Painters of Washington in which she gave classes and lectures. In 1932 the family moved yet again - this time to Seattle, Washington where she would see out the rest of her life. Myra Albert Wiggin died in January 1956 - she continued to paint up until her death.

Although Myra Albert Wiggins is not the most known photographer today, I think she is worthy of celebrating and should be more recognised. Thankfully, her legacy is having a revival with the Musée d’Orsay acquiring her work and exhibiting it earlier this year. Her work is also held in permanent collections across the United States, including the Getty Museum and the National Museum of American Art.

1) Myra Albert Wiggins Letter From a Pilgrim p.159

2) Myra Albert Wiggins Letter From a Pilgrim p.161

As we enter the next chapter of Alice’s life and her photographic journey, we witness the interior world of a woman who is rejecting the patriarchal expectation of marriage and domesticity. It is a period in which she will see her friends left emotionally and financially broken by the actions of men and she herself would come to understand the precarious nature of relying on such men.

A couple of weeks prior to The Darned Club photo being taken, Alice and her friends, Jule and Julia, dressed up as men and posed for the camera. These comical, cross dressing moments were not particularly unusual. Many women and men, for example, crossed dressed for theatrical performances. However, these photos ridicule and mock the patriarchy - they ooze rebellion.

Alice sports a deer stalker and fake cigarette (a motif that keeps appearing) and all of the women wear false moustaches and thick eyebrows. Jule - in the centre - takes it further. Sitting with one leg crossed over on to her knee, she places an umbrella between her legs - thrusting it upwards like a phallic symbol. All women look like they are having fun. These photos were obviously made for private viewing only - to be shared amongst one another but it is an interesting insight to their thoughts and behaviour.

A few days after these photos were taken, Jule left Staten Island for good. In 1891, Jule’s father was accused of stealing $150,000 from his insurance brokerage firm and fled to Canada to avoid arrest, leaving Jule and her stepmother to fend for themselves. Jule became the companion of her stepmother’s cousin, Mrs Cooper - she would be her companion although in reality she was merely her servant. In a society in which women were taught from an early age that marriage (men) were the path to security, these women sadly found out that was not necessarily true.

The previous year, 1890, Alice took a three week vacation to Vermont with Jule and her stepmother. They stayed with relatives. Mrs Cooper (mentioned above) and her daughter Mrs Snively. Alice made over 50 exposures during this visit, including a photograph of her in bed with Jule and Mrs Snively.

Behind the larking around, there are serious issues going on in these women’s lives. As mentioned above, Jule’s world is shattered by the behaviour of her father and Mrs Snively is in a desperately unhappy marriage with two young children. Unlike Jule, however, Mrs Snively did have some control over her destiny and petitioned for a divorce the following year. Mrs Snively also helped Jule financially and allowed her to escape her role as a companion and set up a boarding house in Santa Barbara, California.

Not all of the photographs are exclusively women. During this time, Alice and her friends were very much on the ‘marriage market’ - her friend Trude (photographed with masks) was engaged to Lieutenant Gregg but this ended unhappily when he broke it off - leaving Trude humiliated. Throughout Austen’s archive men appear - we have seen them on the beach and at her tennis club but they also came to the house and Alice photographed them playing poker or having a rather chaotic tea party. All frivolous and carefree and possibly masking the precarious nature of middle class women who did not marry or did not wish to marry.

There is one man in particular that appears in Alice’s life that may have been a possible suitor; Henry K. Gilman, who is in her poker photograph. Alice initially met Gilman in 1889 and then again in 1891. At first, Alice enjoyed his attention - accepting gifts and maintaining a frequent correspondence. However, there was a scandal surrounding Gilman’s family which resulted in the suicide of his brother. Gilman spiralled into a depression - often expressed in his letters to Alice. On December 27th 1893, Gilman died of asphyxiation in his bedroom in an apparent suicide - his family dispute this and claim it was an accident. No letters from Alice survive and we do not know her feelings.

I think the power of these photos are the stories behind them. Despite the frivolity there is a universal human story here - tragedy, humiliation, marriage, love, disappointment, and resilience.

From this point onwards, Alice’s life and photography took a different direction. The so-called larky life is put aside and her photography takes on a new direction as she takes her camera out on to the streets of New York and illustrates her friend’s book on bicycling. She is well and truly part of the ‘New Woman’ scene that emerges during this period. She also meets her life partner Gertrude Tate, all of which I will examine next time.

Recognised as one of America’s first female documentary photographers, Alice Austen (1866-1952) left a legacy of some 8,000 photographs, of which 3,500 survive. She was also known as one of America’s first female photographers to work outside of a studio, documenting the streets of New York as well as the immigration quarantine stations of the city. However, it is the photographs of her female friends that offer an important and rare insight into intimate relationships between Victorian women and in particular lesbian women.

There are so many facets to Alice Austen’s work - each deserving of attention. Therefore, I will divide this essay into two parts in the hope of doing justice to this very important photographer.

Alice lived in her maternal family home, Clear Comfort on Staten Island, for most of her long life. She lived with her mother, also called Alice along with her grandparents. Alice’s mother separated from her husband Edward when Alice was just four years old. Edward moved back to his father’s home in 1870 - the speculation is that he was an alcoholic and from then on Alice was only known by her mother’s maiden name ‘Austen’ and ‘Munn’ was dropped.

At the age of ten years, Alice was given her first camera by her Uncle Oswald.

Oswald Muller, a Danish born Seaman was the husband of her maternal Aunt Minn. Oswald travelled the world as a Sea Captain, and Minn, not one to sit at home, accompanied him bringing her upright piano along for the adventure. It is believed that the camera he gave to Alice was from Germany, picked up on his travels. Oswald would teach Alice the mechanics of the camera but she taught herself darkroom skills - she had a small darkroom installed on the second floor of her house. When developing her plates, she would often wash them from a pump from an outside well.

Most of Alice’s earliest work is centred around her home - this included family, friends and servants as well as her beloved dogs. She also documented the family home - including her bedroom that she shared with her mother. Although by the standards of today’s image making, these photos may seem a bit formal, they are, I feel rather relaxed and in some cases ‘fun’. Naturally, they are posed - it is difficult to get a spontaneous image using a large format camera with glass plate negatives, but they feel warm and familiar.

From the age of 8 until she was 16, Alice attended Errington school for young ladies where she was taught English, French, music and the arts. It is here that Alice met Grace Simonson who is believed to be her first ‘romantic’ friendship. Grace moved away to Harlem but they kept up a correspondence for around 10 years - unlike Alice, Grace continued her education and went on to be a successful textile designer - neither woman married.

The 1880’s saw a boom in amateur photography with the advent of the dry plate. Alice was living in a house in which two uncles were amateur photographers. At this time we see a rise in many photographic societies too - notably in Brooklyn, Manhattan and New Jersey - Alice did not belong to any of them. Although some societies did not permit women, Alice did not have need for them anyway - she had her own darkroom and plenty of willing subjects to be photographed.

Between 1886 to 1890, Alice moved on to using a full plate camera. During this time, her life was filled with social engagements expected of a young, middle class woman. However, rather than sitting patiently for the right man to appear, Alice was a champion tennis player and her photographs document a woman who wasn’t afraid to push the boundaries of Victorian respectability - even if it was behind closed doors. Alice left and incredible archive of her life at this time - including her tennis club.

The photographs allow us to enter a world in which we see a woman with her own mind. She documents her friends who are ‘larking around’ - playing cards, sitting on the beach in their bathing suits or dressing up as men. These are beautifully crafted moments - intimate and personal. Some feel rebellious. As Alice enters the 1890’s many of her friends are now entering the marriage market. Alice, had other ideas. There are so many brilliant, subversive images around this time - too many people and too many photos to talk about here, so I will limit it to a few of my favourites.

One image in particular that is striking is the wonderfully named ‘Smoking photo - with masks and petticoats’ taken in 1892 in which Alice and her friend Trude (1865-1952) are, as the title suggests, dressed in their petticoats, smoking a cigarette and wearing masks. The photo oozes rebellion and we get a sense of her impatience at the societal norms that were imposed upon women of her age and class. Modesty and obedience are thrown to the wind

Alice and Trude stand with hands on hips and there is an air of performance. Their body language is defiant and one could possibly add that it feels sexual. We enter into a private moment and despite the performative nature, this photo was not originally intended for public viewing. Their hair is loose and long and they have shaken off the public expectation of respectability with hair that is bound and tied. Wearing just their undergarments with tights and shoes, we wonder if they are getting dressed or undressed - as a viewer it feels voyeuristic.

On the other hand, the curtains are pulled aside adding to the performance - stage like, inviting us to watch. Do we have permission to watch them? They feel unaware of a viewer - their eye contact is away from us and solely focused upon one another. It is a provocative image and a powerful one and yet it is fun and playful.

Obviously this photo would not have been seen by the public of the day and it is easy to read too much into it. However, reading the various biographies of Alice Austen and having the benefit of retrospective viewing, one cannot help but think that Alice and her friends could be rebelling or exploring their sexuality. Indeed, they were definitely exploring options that did not include men or marriage. Which brings me on to the next important photograph by Austen.

‘The Darned Club’ is another wonderful example of Austen’s subversiveness - the women are tightly held together, there is no room for the men in this photo. ‘The Darned Club’ photo was taken at Alice’s home, Clear Comfort, on October 29, 1891. It is a self-portrait with three of her friends - Trude, Julie and Sue. Trude and Alice hug one another - arms tightly wrapped around their waists. Sue and Julie, who are cousins, smile at one another with their arms looser.

The name ‘The Darned Club’ is a play on words. Alice and her friends did have a darning club in the traditional sense of the word but it worked alongside other pursuits such as cycling, tennis, rowing and for Alice, photography. These hobbies however, were as much about female friendships as it was the activities. This photo was taken when the women were of marrying age. Sue is five months pregnant and Trude will suffer a humiliating broken engagement. The pun was also coined by the men they associated with - often excluded from their activities and slightly miffed, the men coined these friends ‘The Darned Club’.

In the next installment, I shall be exploring the 1890’s in which Alice moved on to a new 5x4 camera and her photographic world opened up yet again. It is a time of the New Woman and Alice is firmly part of this - she takes up bicycling, takes the camera out on to the streets of New York and meets the greatest love of her life, Getrude Tate.

Julia Pirotte (1908-2000)

Julia Pirotte (née Diament) was born in Konskowa, a small Jewish town in Poland. She described the social and political climate there as threatening and one in which she felt persecuted. Julia was born into an impoverished family and was one of three children - her mother died when she was just seven years old.

In 1925, Julia and her sister Mindla Maria Diament (1911-1944) were sentenced to four years imprisonment for being members of the Communist Party. With the threat of further imprisonment, in 1934 Julia fled to Paris to join her younger sister. On route she went to Belgium to claim refugee status but fell ill, thus delaying their reunion. However, it was here that she met her husband, the political activist Jean Pirotte - they married in 1935 and she was granted Belgian citizenship.

In Belgium she worked in factories and wrote articles about worker’s conditions for various left wing publications. Then, after losing her job, she was encouraged by Suzanne Spaak to enrol in a photography and journalism course. Spaak also gave her a Leica Elmar 3 camera. This would change Pirotte’s life. The camera became a means of resistance - instead of a gun she had a camera. The Leica was small and discreet, it could be easily hidden and easily used - allowing for candid shots in which she could operate unobtrusively - often getting close up, spontaneous and natural images. The perfect tool to document the terrifying reality of living under Nazi occupation.

Suzanne Spaak (1905-1944) was a Belgian resistance and humanitarian activist during the Second World War. Spaak joined the Mouvement National Contre le Racisme, the network known as Red Orchestra, which played a central role in saving Jewish children from deportation - they arranged hiding places, passports and transport. It is believed that Spaak hid children in her own home. In 1943 she was arrested by the Gestapo and was tortured and executed on 12 August 1944 in Fresnes prison - just days before the liberation of Paris.

In 1939, just before the war, Pirotte was commissioned by the Belgian photo agency, Foto War, to report on the Baltic States. When war was declared and the Nazi’s invaded Belgium, Pirotte fled to Marseille, France. Her husband was deported but there is no information to say where and it has to be assumed that he died in the war years. In Marseille she worked in an aviation factory and made portraits of people on the beach - she also joined the Resistance where she would transport weapons and forged papers.

Throughout this time, she continued to work as a photojournalist, capturing the everyday as well as the exceptional. Her work included photographing the uprising of Marseille as well as the Marquis in action - for example, men with guns on the streets candidly caught on film. However, it wasn’t just the men that were photographed but women and children too - many echoing that of Gerda Taro’s coverage of the Spanish Civil War.

Pirotte suffered many losses throughout the war. Such as the disappearance of her husband and the execution of her beloved sister Maria by the Nazis. Maria, born in 1911, was arrested by the Vichy regime for her role in the Resistance - she was deported to Breslau (today Wroclaw, part of Poland, then Germany) and sentenced to death - she was executed by guillotine on 24 August 1944. As she went to her death, it is said that she shouted ‘Courage’. Of the three siblings, only Julia survived the war. Although there is very little information on her brother, it is believed that he died in a Soviet Gulag.

After the war, Julia returned to Poland where she settled in Warsaw. It was whilst working for a publication called Zolnierz Poliski (Polish Soldier) that her editor requested that she travel to Kielce on the 4 July 1946 after news spread that there was a pogrom. Thirty-seven people died and thirty-five were injured. She took over one-hundred pictures of the aftermath. Most notably, images of coffins in rows, where small ones with children in them haunt the viewer’s mind. She also took pictures of the injured being treated in hospital as well as people mourning their dead. During this period, antisemitism was still high, and though I am not going to show the images, I will put a link at the bottom for those interested in finding out more.

As with many women photographers, Julia Pirotte’s work went largely unknown for many years. Although some of her photos from the Kielce pogrom were printed in a report by Polish Soldier in 1946, they remained hidden from the public for several decades - in the same way that the Kielce atrocities were. In 1991, the pogrom was finally remembered and commemorated and Julia’s photos were acknowledged and given the importance they were due.

In 1948, Julia attended the World Congress of Intellectuals for Peace where she photographed people such as Picasso and Edith Piaf. She continued as a photojournalist until 1968. In 1996 she was awarded the Medal of Arts and Literature by the French Minister of Culture. She died in Warsaw on 25 July, 2000 and is buried at the Powazkowski Cemetery.

I wanted to write about Julia Pirotte because I felt that she needed to be brought to our attention. She was an incredibly brave woman and it saddens me to think of her work going unnoticed for so many years. I am glad that she finally got the recognition she deserved but even so, I do think more of us should know about her. Her work itself is powerful and serves as important testimony of life under occupation. I know some may find this a difficult post, but I believe that it also offers inspiration when global events today leave you feeling without hope.

If you would like to see more of Julia’s work then please click the link below or google her. I have deliberately left out images here as I wanted to be sensitive to those who may find them disturbing or triggering. Many thanks for reading.

https://www.icp.org/browse/archive/constituents/julia-pirotte

Claude Cahun was a surrealist artist whose work explores gender identity and the subconscious mind. Their self portraits from the 1920s onwards confront gender norms as they embrace androgyny and the blurring of conventional gender identity. Cahun (1894-1954) was a writer, photographer, surrealist, theatre performer and resistance fighter during the Second World War. They had largely been written out of Art History until the 1980s when they were included in an exhibition in the United States.

Lucy Renee Mathilde Schwob was born into an affluent literary family in Nantes, France in 1894. Their father, Maurice Schwob, owned the regional newspaper which had been in the family since 1876. There is not much information about their mother, Mary-Antoinette Courbebaisse, other than that she suffered with her mental health and was institutionalised in an asylum, and Lucy was sent to live with their maternal grandmother, Mathilde Cahun.

In 1907 they were sent to school in England and returned to France in 1909 where they met Suzanne Malherbe (Marcel Moore), who would become their step-sister and partner for the rest of their life (Cahun’s father married Malherbe’s mother in 1917).

From the 1910s onwards, Claude Cahun wrote articles and reviews for newspapers, including their father’s paper. They also started making self portrait photographs.

In 1914 they changed their name from Lucy Schwob to Claude Cahun.

Cahun moved to Paris with Marcel Moore in the 1920’s and together they collaborated on writing and art. They also published articles and held salons at their home where guests included the writer Andre Breton and Sylvia Beach, who established the bookshop Shakespeare and Company. In 1930 they wrote a pamphlet called ‘Les Paris sont ouverts’ in which they emphasised the subversive role of art in the face of totalitarianism.

During the 1930’s, Cahun became part of the Surrealist movement and joined the ‘Association des Écrivains et Artistes Révolutionnaires (Association of the Revolutionary Writers and Artists) - a Communist leaning group for artists and writers that included the photographers Man Ray and Henri Cartier-Bresson.

In 1937 they moved to Jersey, and when Germany occupied the Island both Cahun and Moore became members of the Resistance where they produced anti-Nazi pamphlets and distributed them. One of the ways they distributed them was to dress up and attend German military events and put the leaflets in the coats of the soldiers. On another occasion they hung a banner on a church that read: Jesus is Great, but Hitler is Greater because Jesus died for people, but people died for Hitler.

In 1944 Cahun and Moore were arrested and sentenced to death by the Nazis. However, Jersey was liberated by Allied Forces in May 1945 and their sentence was never carried out. Claude Cahun never fully recovered from the ordeal and died in 1954, aged 60. Marcel Moore continued to live on the island until their suicide in 1972.

Just over two years ago I attended a workshop on Photogravure - I have a project in mind for it. It was quite difficult to say the least. Go further back and I attended yet another workshop - this time to learn the Bromoil process - this was a disaster! However, the workshop itself was fun and the tutor was extremely knowledgeable. We started from scratch - making up the chemistry and working in the darkroom one day; on the second day we sat down with our inks and brushes and prepared to create beautiful pieces like the Pictorialists. Only this didn’t happen! Instead we just ended up with a sludgy mess or images that refused to be inked. I don’t think I have laughed so much on a photography course.

When you leave a workshop, you usually leave like a child leaving a birthday party - walking to your car or train with a big smile on your face carrying your goodies (prints). Not this time! However, I can honestly say that I learned so much on that course and managed to make prints when I got home - still with an enormous amount of failure of course.

So, when I look at the work of photographers such as Alice Boughton, I am in awe of their skill, patience and artistry. I am also surprised that her name is rarely discussed in photo history and other than one published book on famous people that she photographed (long out of print) - there is nothing else published. You will find a lot of her work on the likes of Pinterest - usually uncredited - or online galleries printing her work so we can hang them in our bedrooms. But biographical details or published monographs of her work are scant or non-existent.

I first came across the work of Alice Boughton through my interest in the Pictorialists and in particular the Photo-Sucession group established by the photographer Alfred Stieglitz. Pictorialism is often regarded as sentimental and this is often a criticism rather than a positive feature. However, as a person who views with my heart and not just my head, this is work that I find engaging and has influenced my work in some form or another. When I look at such beautiful images, I am transported - I may not always question them for a deeper meaning but I am captivated by them. And let’s face it - with the world in such a mess, we need beauty and we need crafts(wo)manship and vision.

Back to Alice Boughton then. Alice Boughton was born 14th May, either in 1865 or 1866 (depends on what source you read) in Brooklyn, New York to Frances Ayres and William H.Boughton who was a lawyer. In the 1880’s she attended the Pratt Institute in New York to study painting and photography. The Pratt Institute was seen as a progressive college, founded in 1887 by the wealthy industrialist and philanthropist Charles Pratt. The institute, according to their website, embraced a philosophy of affordable education for all regardless of class, color or gender.1

Whilst at the Pratt Institute, Alice met two women who would shape both her professional and personal life. The painter Ida C. Haskell (April 1861-Sept 1932) was Alice’s teacher at Pratt and the two of them formed a lifelong relationship - eventually moving in together until Haskell died in 1932. Haskell also accompanied Boughton on a trip to Europe in 1926.

The other important woman was the photographer Gertrude Käsebier (1852-1934) who was a fellow student at Pratt. On leaving the Pratt Institute, Alice and Gertrude went to study in Europe - both had developed a passion for photography and, in particular, photography as art. It is said that Käsebier set up a summer studio in Paris and Boughton was her assistant. Boughton was also Käsebier’s assistant at her studio in New York.

The Photo-Secession Group.

The Photo-Sucession was a group formed by the photographer Alfred Stieglitz (1864-1946) whose mission was to promote photography as fine art. In 1902, Stieglitz invited Boughton (as well as Käsebier) to show their work at the ‘Little Gallery of the Photo-Sucession’ inaugural exhibition. In 1906 she was elected to the Photo-Sucession group and would have some of her work published in Steiglitz’ influential journal ‘Camera Work’.

Although Stieglitz invited women into the Photo-Sucession group, many of them, with the exception of Käsebier, have been overlooked in the history of photography. Indeed, Boughton is one such woman as are; Eva Watson-Schütze, Sarah C.Sears and Mary Devenbut. As Naomi Rosenblum writes that over the years, Stieglitz’s support for women photographers and for Pictorialism became steadily less forceful.2

When researching Alice Boughton, I really wanted to find something in which I could hear her voice and know her opinions. The only thing I could find was an essay that had been published in Camera Work. However, when I looked through my book ‘Camera Work’, The Complete Illustrations. 1903-1917’ published by Taschen, I could not find it. I found her images but not her essay despite it having multiple essays published by men.

I eventually found it online and it is a really interesting piece called Photography, A Medium of Expression. The first thing that struck me was the fact that the Editorial team distances itself from what she has written. They write: This article in parts conflicts with some of our own views on photography.3 Why? I believe it is because she does not argue that photography has to sit alongside fine art and that we should not disguise the fact that it is a photograph and pretend it is something else. She embraces all the mechanics of a camera and the various printing processes that allow the photographer to make beautiful works of art that stand on their own as photos and do not pretend to be paintings. She doesn’t believe that we should hide the fact that an image is made with a camera and she railed against those who mimicked artists such as Rembrandt or Whistler. She writes:

To have their productions not in the least resemble a photograph, seems to be the goal of some of the new workers, but this attitude is both forced and false. Why not avowedly use the camera? Why be ashamed, because it is not something else?4

Boughton goes on to talk about the different processes that are used to create her beautiful and evocative images - such as the Gum Bichromate process. Having never made prints with this method, I am afraid that I can’t give a personal account. However, as with all these historical processes, there is a level of skill and patience needed. I once wrote of the many plates that Julia Margaret Cameron went through to get one that she was happy with and I can imagine that this would be the same with Boughton and whatever processes she deemed necessary to fit her vision.

Reading her essay and her obvious passion for her craft was enlightening. She talks about the many uses that photography has - such as creating artist portraits, or documenting buildings. The arguments that she was having then, Julia Margaret Cameron was having before her, and with the advent of the digital camera and smartphones, these arguments surrounding photography abound. However, I can’t help feeling that Alice and I would agree that we are just lucky to be in a position in which we have so many tools at our fingertips to create art with or just have fun with.

Studio Portraits.

As we can see, Alice Boughton was an independent woman, with an independent mind and eventually became an independent photographer. After working for Käsebier, she set up her own studio in New York in 1890, where she would gain a reputation for her portraiture that would attract those in the literary and art world - these included W.B Yeats, Roger Fry, Robert Louis Stevenson and Henry James. A letter addressed to Yeats suggests that at some point she may have had a second studio as the headed paper was a different address to that of her first studio. In 1915 she hired Margaret Watkins (1884-1969) as an assistant. Watkins would go on to be a trailblazer in Modernist Photography, thus rejecting Pictorialism.

In 1931, after 40 years, Alice Boughton closed down her New York studio and destroyed over 1000 prints. She moved to Long Island and lived with her partner Ida C. Haskell. Boughton died from pneumonia on 21st July 1943. She leaves behind an incredible photographic legacy in which her work is held in archives around the world, including the National Portrait Gallery, London and the George Eastman Museum.

1. Pratt Institute website: Pratt.edu

2. Noami Rosenblum, The History of Women Photographers, p.107. AbbeVille Press

3. Camera Work, edition 26

4. Camera Work, edition 26

It has been a busy few weeks and my latest post that is coming is a bit delayed, so I thought I would share a very short biography of the important photojournalist Gerda Taro. I usually post my smaller, bitesize pieces about women photographers on Notes but I am experimenting with sending them as posts to my subscribers in the hope that you don’t miss them. Thank you as always for your support and encouragement of this project.

Born Gerta Pohorllye in Stuttgart, she left Germany in 1933 when Hitler came to power. Born into a middle class Jewish family, Gerta was politically active from a young age - distributing left wing and anti-Nazi leaflets around Leipzig. She was arrested by the Nazi’s and later fled to Paris.

In Paris, she met the photographer Endre Friedmann (October 1913 - May 1954) with whom she had a relationship with until her death. It is said that she changed both their names to Gerda Taro and Robert Capa as a way of sounding more professional and therefore more likely to get paid for their work.

In 1936 both Taro and Capa went to cover the Spanish Civil War. Passionately supporting the anti-Fascist Republican cause, she photographed soldiers as well as civilians caught up in the Civil War. Taro made several visits to Spain - sometimes with Capa and sometimes without him.

On 26th July 1937, Taro was tragically killed by an out of control tank that crushed her. She was buried in Paris where thousands of people lined the streets to mourn her death.

There is so much to say about Taro and her work and I will be writing a longer biography soon. After living in the shadows of her partner Robert Capa for decades she is now getting the recognition that she rightly deserves.

In October 1918, Olive Edis (1876-1955) was commissioned by the Imperial War Museum’ ‘Women’ s Work Committee’ to document women’s war effort in France and Belgium. As you can imagine, there was fierce opposition to the appointment of a woman going to the Front and she didn’t get there until March 1919 when the fighting had stopped. Travelling over 2,000 miles and covering a vast array of women’s positions on the frontline, Edis set to work with her large format camera and gelatin dry plates and documented women working as ambulance drivers, nurses, gardeners who looked after war graves, mechanics and many more.

One of the most moving images that Edis produced was that of a woman from the Women’s Army Auxiliary Corps tending to the grave of Betty Stevenson. Edis writes in her journal:

Then we went down to the cemetery - a perfect forest of little crosses. We were directed to the section where the four Nursing Sisters killed in an air raid lay - with the Officers. Some WAAC girls always tended the graves, and a few of them came down and grouped at work for me to photograph them. I soon found Bettie Stevenson’s grave and singled it out for a special photograph.

This is a powerful and evocative image of women’s role and sacrifice during the First World War - a woman photographing a woman who is tending to the grave of a woman killed. Around them stand the graves of men.

I think what is so striking about this image is that when I have seen war graves, they have often been graves for men. Despite many years of reading and researching women’s war writing and photography, my default when seeing an image like this, is to think of the men fighting. When I read Edis’ description above I wanted to know who Betty Stevenson was. I felt the need to ‘humanise’ this image. Although Edis did purposefully seek out a female story here and one does feel her humanity, I wanted to know more than just Betty’s name and find out a little bit about the person beneath the soil.

Who was Betty Stevenson?

Born 3 September 1896, Betty Stevenson was born into a middle class family where she was educated at home until the age of 14 when she was sent to a boarding school in Surrey. After boarding school she was educated in Belgium to study music. Betty’s first encounter with volunteering during the First World War was in 1914 when she, along with her parents, went to London to assist with the relocation of Belgium refugees who were being held at Alexander Palace.

In February 1916 Betty travelled to France to help her aunt as a canteen worker in St Denis YMCA hut, situated just outside of Paris. These huts would provide hot food and entertainment for the troops. Unlike the nurse/photographer Maire Chisholm who had to sneak out of her family home to serve, Betty’s mother came out to France in April 1916 and worked alongside her. Whilst there she bought a car for herself and Betty - a Ford - and Betty learned to drive. By 1917, Betty was driving for the YMCA and was posted to Etaples where she would drive visiting relatives to and from the hospital - it was a role that she relished but it was fraught with danger.

In November 1917, Betty was struck down with influenza and she struggled to shake it off and in February 1918 she went home to recuperate. She returns to Etaples at the beginning of May and is tragically killed by shrapnel in late May 1918. On 31st May 1918, Adam Scott, the Etaples District General Secretary writes to her parents the heartbreaking news that their only daughter had died. Below is the letter - it gives us a sense of the loss that those around her felt and the utter brutality of war.

‘Dear Mr and Mrs Stevenson,—You will have had from the Military Authorities the sad news of Betty’s death last evening. I scarcely know how to begin to write you. She was the darling of the whole Base staff, and was so loved by everybody that we are all sort of dazed by her loss. She had been busy all day, in the afternoon at the Lion d’Argent, and later, along with Mrs Stewart-Moore, with the refugees at the station. Owing to a car breakdown, a group of workers were later than usual in starting for Les Iris, where we had been sending all our ladies to sleep recently for greater safety. A very early raid sent us all to the cellars, and after it was over we put the party of ladies on two cars to send them out of the danger zone in case the planes returned. We were held up half-way, and a second raid came over, forcing us all to take shelter under the banks by the side of the road. Everything went well until an enemy plane, just as the raid was finishing, dropped several bombs in open country near us, probably in order to get rid of them before returning. One bomb killed Betty instantaneously, and wounded two other workers, who are in hospital. I was by her side within a minute of the bomb falling, but nothing could be done. She could not have felt it, as she was shot through the left temple. She was taken to hospital at once. The funeral will take place, we expect, to- morrow, and will be with full military honours as an officer of the British Army. We cannot realise she has gone from us yet, and her place in the hearts of us all will not be filled. Only the other day we were talking of her as the sunshine of the whole place. Knowing how much she has been to everyone who knew her out here, we can have some small feeling of what her loss must mean to you both. I can only say on behalf of us all how deep is our sympathy with you all. We mourn her as a very dear friend. Mrs Stewart-Moore was with her all through, and will doubtless be writing you.

Believe me, yours very sincerely, Adam Scott. A.P.O., S. II, B.E.F.’

(From Betty Stevenson YMCA, pages 236-238. Internet Archive).

If you would like to know more about Betty Stevenson, you can find her book on the internet archive:

https://archive.org/details/bettystevensonym00steviala/page/n7/mode/2up?ref=ol

I thought I would write a short message to thank all of you who have followed, subscribed, shared and commented on my Substack - I am extremely grateful to you. I genuinely didn’t expect any engagement here (I thought I was a bit late to the party) but I started to write as a way of finding some time for myself each day - it is something I have been wanting to do for a few years but didn’t allow myself the time - there was always something else that needed my attention.

Over the past two years it has been difficult to pursue my own photography with the intensity that I usually do. I won’t bore you with the details but I haven’t really had the time and more importantly the headspace to make new work. My work requires time - I work on projects for years - and I seem to always find an excuse or a reason not to go into the darkroom or get the large format camera out.

This needed to change!

So, every day I try and put a couple of hours aside to do something photography related. As I have said, I have been wanting to write about the women photographers that have inspired me for a few years and writing about them and researching them is a privilege. I am learning so much along the way and finding them and their work inspirational. I can’t always go into the darkroom & mess around with chemicals, but I can find an hour to sit at my desk and enter the lives of these women.

I have always been interested in women’s views on life - from literature, art, history and of course, photography. Before I became a photographer I taught women’s literature and have an MA in Holocaust Writing, in which my dissertation was on women’s writing of the Holocaust. Now, as a photographer with an interest in historical photographic processes, my two passions are coming together.

I have to admit, I haven’t written essays or dissertations for years and I am a bit clunky at the moment, but I hope to improve as I go along. These posts aren’t meant to be academic but they will be well researched from many sources and I will always do my best to make sure copyright is adhered to. My aim and hope is that they will inspire anyone who reads them or at least offer five minutes of enjoyment. I hope that I can share some women photographers that might otherwise be unheard of to the general public as well as those firmly in the public consciousness. All will be written from a personal point of view - both as a woman and a photographer

However, this isn’t the sole purpose of my Substack. It is more selfish than that. I am writing as a means of escape - an escape into the world of others - those pioneers and trailblazers that walked (photographed) before me. Sometimes the escape is purely visual - I could look at the work of Julia Margaret Cameron or Francesca Woodman for hours. Other times, the escape could be into the lives that these women lead - Alice Austen, Tina Modotti and Gerda Taro are endlessly fascinating.

My plan for Women Who See, is to post photos made by women, with small biographies in Notes on a regular basis. I also hope to write longer pieces at least once a month with more in depth biographies. I will also write about the stories behind some of the images that they produced.

Anyway, I do hope that you enjoy what I share. In the meantime, I am really grateful to you for coming along with me on this journey - I will do my best, when life allows, to post little pockets of inspiration into your world when I can.

Enjoy your weekend!!

Born in Tonbridge, Kent on 16^th March 1799, Anna Children would become one of the most influential and pioneering photographers in photo history and in particular, women’s photo history.

Anna’s mother, Hester Anne Holwell died within a year of her birth and she was raised by her father John George Children, a respected scientist who worked at the British Museum and was the first President of the Entomological Society of London. Anna’s father encouraged her with her interest in botany and art and working alongside him she illustrated 256 scientific drawings of shells that were published in her father’s translation of Jena Baptiste de Lamarck’s catalogue ‘Genera of Shells’ (1822-24). In 1825 Anna married John Pelly Atkins and in 1830 she began to bring together her own collection of preserved plants, which she donated to Kew Gardens in 1865.

Anna was acquainted with William Fox Talbot (February 1800 - September 1877) who invented the photographic process the ‘Calotype’ which produced both positive and negative image and it is believed that Anna and her father played around with Talbot’s Photograms. However, this was a costly practice and it would have been impractical financially to produce the books and the volume of prints that she would eventually make. As well as the cost of materials, the process was still rather unstable and was protected by a patent by Talbot. Anna also received a camera in 1841 and although she took photos, unfortunately none of this work has survived.

Atkins was also a friend with the scientist and astronomer Sir John Herschel (probably due to her father’s position at the Royal Society) who had just invented the Cyanotype process and he taught her how to use it and it was this process that became a means of documenting her work as a botanist.

Sir John Herschel (March 1792-May 1871) was experimenting with photography as early as 1819 in which he found a way of fixing an image with Sodium Thiosulphate. This is something he shared with Fox Talbot. He had been wanting to find a way in which he could make multiple copies of his work without the time consuming act of writing and drawing over and again. In 1842, the Royal Society published a paper by Herschel outlining his new invention, the ‘Cyanotype’ in which paper was coated with a solution of Ferric Ammonium Citrate and Potassium Ferricyanide and the desired object was placed upon it and exposed under U.V light - it was then washed with water resulting in a beautiful blue print, the Cyanotype.

It is believed that Herschel also sent the article over to Anna and John Atkins as well as her father John Children. Along with the article was the instructions and some examples of his work using this process. Anna set to work almost immediately and started to print her long planned herbarium, starting with algae and eventually ferns and flowers such as poppies. Anna would go on to make multiple copies of her work now that she had a more dependable process. She practiced with rigour and determination - making sure her paper was coated evenly and experimenting with good quality paper. Her garden was full of large frames filled with her specimens - sitting in the full Kent sun and washed from a nearby spring. Exposure times were calculated by trial and error and her plants were washed and placed carefully upon the coated paper.

In 1843 Anna Atkins self-published her first book entitled ‘Photograms of British Algae. Cyanotype Impressions’. It was the first book to use photographic illustrations. Two more books were published between 1843-1853 with 411 plates and each having their scientific names written on them. Anna made every print with the help of her childhood friend and fellow botanist Anne Dixon (1799-1864).

Anna became a member of the Botanical Society in London in 1839, one of the few scientific societies open to women. She died in Halstead, Kent in June 1871. However, her story does not end there. Anna Atkin’s work has inspired many photographers and artists around the world for over a century and a half - her work is emulated to this day and the process itself has been used as a means of personal expression, and as an artistic device. I personally used the cyanotype process because of the colour blue’s association with memory and dreams in art - it became the perfect expression of my grief following my father’s death of alcoholism and my memories of him.

One artist that mirrors Atkins’ work is the American printmaker Bertha Evelyn Jacques (1868-1941), primarily known for her botanical etchings, she produced beautiful and evocative botanical Cyanotype photograms. Jacques was an active member of the Wildflower Preservation Society and like Atkin’s she had a genuine interest in botany, however, her intention was art and not science. Jacques produced over 1000 Cyanotypes and used many of them as artistic studies for her etchings. The Cyanotype print has the ability to transform the ordinary into something extraordinary and this can be seen in both Atkins and Jacques work. Jacques ‘Dandelion’ is a perfect example of this - a common ‘garden weed’ is magically breathtaking in its beauty.

Anna Atkins lived in an exciting time when considering photo history and managed to create work that was significant to the world of science. However, she also leaves a wonderful contribution to art and photography. To be known as the first female photographer and to create the first photographic book is an extraordinary legacy and I often wonder if she would have had any idea of how important she would become in women’s photo history and the many thousands of photographers and artists that she has inspired - I imagine she was far to busy to think of such things.

I have recently been thinking about how I was introduced to the Victorian photographer, Julia Margaret Cameron and about my own path as a wet plate collodion photographer. In 2003 I went to see an exhibition of her work at the National Portrait Gallery in London - I remember it well. It was astonishing, it was beautiful and it changed my life in a way that at the time, I could never have envisaged.

I was a mother of a one year old at the time - he never slept and I was exhausted. I was working in adult education and I first heard of Cameron through one of the courses I was teaching - Wanderlust Women, a history of women travel writers. It was the artist, Marianne North who introduced me to her - not literally of course, but through her writings. Marianne was photographed by Cameron when she was travelling in Sri Lanka (then called Ceylon, where the Camerons owned and lived on their coffee plantations). She had written:

She made up her mind at once she would photograph me, and for three days she kept herself in a fever of excitement about it… She dressed me up in flowering draperies of cashmere wool, let down my hair, and made me stand with spiky cocoa-nut branches running into my head, the noonday sun’s rays dodging my eyes between the leaves as the slight breeze moved them, and told me to look perfectly natural (with a thermometer standing at 96 degrees)! Then she tried me with a background of breadfruit leaves and fruit, nailed flat against a window shutter, and told them to look natural, but both failed; and though she wasted twelve plates, and an enormous amount of trouble, it was all in vain, she could only get a perfectly uninteresting and commonplace person on her glasses, which refused to flatter. (A Vision of Eden. Life and Work of Marianne North, Royal Botanic Gardens, Kew)

When I read this description of Cameron, I am not surprised that I wanted to know more about this indomitable woman - even more so when I discovered that she was the great-aunt of Virginia Woolf. However, it would be another nine years before I started to make my own wet plates. In between that time I read all the books that I could get hold of, I visited her archives and I even bought prints that to this day still hang on my walls. The idea of making wet plates felt like an impossibility and I had no idea where to start.

So fast forward to 2010. I had already started working with large format cameras - mainly 5x4 and using instant film. I was reasonably proficient in the darkroom but was no master printer and never have been. Social media was gaining ground and I saw some American photographers were starting to produce absolutely stunning plates and some where coming over to the UK to teach it. I looked into it but couldn’t afford it but was pointed in the direction of Carl Radford in Glasgow. So, on my 40th birthday, I went on a workshop and learnt the wet plate collodion process. I was the only woman on the course. Carl was a fantastic mentor and along with John Brewer, they helped me source the chemistry and plates - which wasn’t easy at the time. The chemistry terrified me at first - silver nitrate, potassium cyanide and so on.

I went home to start making plates and like Cameron, I failed miserably time and again. The success rate was woeful and many times I felt like giving up. I had made the mistake of trying out this new process on my children - who have always been fantastically patient with me, but this was a step too far. As I fumbled around and sweated and failed - I could sense their disappointment with every failed plate. So I decided I would experiment on flowers instead, at least until I could work within a reasonable time frame - enough to keep a 5 year old interested. Once I could work out the exposure time with some kind of accuracy and have full confidence with the chemistry, I started to photograph the children - not just mine but their friends and my friend’s children too.

The next few summers were a frenzy of making plates. I had a small hydroponic tent to develop the plates and I would take that around with me. It was usually set up in my dining room - with the table pushed up against the wall and the kids toys scattered all around. I would also take this tent to my friends’ houses and set it up in their garden - on one occasion the tent came down quicker than it went up when we got caught out with torrential rain. The madness that Marianne North describes is very relatable. However, thankfully, the madness that ensued was mainly the kids and not mine (or so I like to think). The children were collaborators in these portraits - each one could decide how they wanted to be photographed - what they wore (hence the cat suit) or how they posed etc.

Several years later I made more plates of the children, now teenagers, but unfortunately not all of them. I am still in touch with some and we often talk about the work and have plans to make more of them as adults - but it never quite happens - busy lives for everyone but maybe one day. It is a process that I love. It is infuriating and exhausting but when you see the image appear in the darkroom, it can quite literally take your breath away.

When I think back to the chain of events that led me to becoming a photographer who uses the wet plate collodion process, I feel grateful. From reading a small piece about this pioneering woman photographer and then seeing her work in person, I still find it hard to believe that I too make plates as she did over a century and a half ago. I have been so lucky to have had the experience and the help of family and friends around me. I never imagined I would do this kind of work, let alone be published or have exhibitions (one of which was having my work hang alongside Cameron). It has been a wonderful journey and even today as I sit here writing, I can honestly say that Julia Margaret Cameron is still very important in my life and continues to inspire me - flaws and all.

I have wanted to write about Sigríður Zoëga for a while now. Although there isn’t a great deal written about her, what I did find was fascinating. Most photographers would know the name August Sanders (1876-1964) who is considered to be one of the most important photographers of the last century - known for his work ‘People of the Twentieth Century’ in which he documented the German people from all classes during the tumultuous years of the Weimar Republic and the rise of Hitler and the National Socialist German Workers’ Party (who would later ban his work). However, what most people don’t know is that one of his assistants was Sigríður Zoëga and every time we look at one of his images, she may have been the printer who brought it to life. Although below is merely a summary of her life and work, I hope that at least she is recognised as a brilliant photographer and another pioneer in women’s photo history.

We are inundated with images nowadays and within the photo community there are debates about the worth and value of photography. Some people think there are too many images - of course this is largely due to digital cameras and phones as well as online platforms. I personally don’t really have a problem with it - I still think you can be selective in your viewing and if you look hard enough you often find those images that stop you in your tracks - sometimes they are contemporary photographs and sometimes they are historical. The image ‘Women on the Banks of the Lake’ by Sigríður Zoëga was one such image that literally took my breath away. I wanted to know more about the woman behind this image.

Known as one of Iceland’s leading photographers of the twentieth century, Sigríður Zoëga was born in Reykjavik in 1889, the daughter of Geir Zoëga a headmaster of Reykjavik college, Professor of English and author of Icelandic-English dictionaries. Like many bourgeois women of the time, Zoëga was amongst the many to take up photography as a hobby, however, unlike many women of her class, she would go onto make a professional career from her work.

Sigríður Zoëga’s career started in the studio of Petur Brynjolfsson, a successful and notable photographer in Reykjavik, where she would learn darkroom skills such as printing and retouching. Brynjolfsson employed as many as five women in his studio, however they rarely got to take photographs as this was still the reserve of their male counterparts.

Frustrated by the lack of photographic hands-on experience, Sigríður Zoëga moved to Copenhagen, Denmark in September 1911 where she obtained a job as a studio assistant to Nora Lundstrom, the wife of the renowned Danish photographer, Georg Lundstrom. You can find the work of Georg Lundstrom online but as yet I have not found any by his wife Nora. However, Zoëga found herself in the same situation as she did at Brynjolfsson’s in which she was confined to printing, retouching and toning back in the darkroom and not out in the studio with the camera.

Not satisfied with her development as a photographer, Zoëga placed an advert in ‘Der Photograph’ and moved to Germany where she was employed by a photographer called Otto Kelch. This was a relatively short lived appointment as ironically, Kelch, although happy with her darkroom skills, wanted someone to work in the studio with clients - he needed a photographer who could work independently. Sadly, Zoëga didn’t meet this criteria as she had little to no experience as a professional photographer and struggled with the German language, and as all portrait photographers know, you need to have good communication skills.

With the help of Kelch, she placed another advert in ‘Der Photograph’ and was employed by the then little known photographer, August Sander. Arriving in Cologne the day after Ann Saunder gave birth to twins, Zoëga set to work with the Sanders and would stay there for the next three years. During these years Sanders made several portraits of Sigríður Zoëga, including the beautiful bromoil print below.

In 1914, Sigríður Zoëga returned to Reykjavik, a place now thriving culturally and economically (although this will change with the First World War). With the help of family, Zoëga set up her first studio which sadly burnt down, thus losing all her plates and cameras she had acquired in Germany. Undeterred, a month later she, along with her friend Steinnun Thorsteinsson, bought the studio of her previous employer, Brynjolfsson. With her new approach to portraiture - relaxed and informal - Zoëga would go on to be one of the most successful photographers in Iceland in the first half of the twentieth century.

By 1916, she became one of the founders of the Friends of the Arts Society and between 1917 to 1931 she held the meetings in her studio. Along with Matthías Þórðarson - the director of the National Museum she was also part of a project called ‘artistic landscape photographs.’ This was an artistic endeavour away from her commercial work in which she created beautiful portraits of women by the lakes. This image below, in particular, stands out from her more formal studio work.

I love this image! For me it has the romanticism and atmosphere of Pictorialism, but you can also see the influence of August Sander and the New Objectivity movement too - beautifully posed and composed with an element of detachment. The exposure and tones are perfect and yet it still holds on to a dreamlike, serene image. I feel that it is an image in which we get a sense of the photographer herself - these women feel strong and independent, like Sigríður Zoëga, who not only ran her own business but also raised her own child after choosing not to marry the painter Jón Stefánsson.

In 1955, Sigríður Zoëga closed down her studio and donated all her plates and photographs to the National Museum in Iceland. A pioneer for women photographers and culture in general - along with her estimated 31,000 plates and prints that she donated, Sigríður Zoëga leaves a lasting legacy and will remain an inspiration for women photographers for generations to come.

We often think of photographers such as Julia Margaret Cameron as a trailblazer in the history of women's photography, however, the photographer that usually springs to my mind is Olive Edis - the first official woman war photographer, sent to France to document women’s roles during the First World War - a place that was strictly off limits to women photographers here in the UK.

Born on 3 September 1876 in London - the daughter of Mary and Arthur Wellesley Edis (a renowned gynaecologist), and the sister to twins Katharine and Emmeline, she received her first camera from her cousin Caroline Murray in 1900. By 1905 Olive and her sister Katharine set up a studio in Sheringham, North Norfolk - her father had died suddenly a few years previously and Edis set up her photographic business as a means of supporting herself.

In 1907, Katherine left the studio when she married the local doctor Robert Legat and moved away to start a family. However, Olive would continue with her studio in Sheringham and would open up another one in Nottinghill, London - driving her Austin 7 to and from the studios. The studio work included renowned people such as Thomas Hardy and politicians including David Lloyd George and Herbert Henry Asquith as well many prominent and influential women of the time, including a strikingly beautiful, sepia toned, platinum print of the British political activist and suffragette, Emmeline Pankhurst - who looks relaxed despite its formality - a testament to Edis’ professionalism and empathy as a photographer.

Like so many other women photographers that I have studied and admired, Olive Edis had incredible energy, drive and ambition which was backed up with tremendous talent and ability. Her technical ability is something to admire - she was one of the first people in England to use the notoriously difficult Autochrome process around 1912 in which she had a wide ranging portfolio from local fishermen to politicians. She also made several beautiful self portraits in which we see her eye for colour and composition. In the image below, I love the way the red of the flower is echoed in the sky beyond the window and the green of her clothes contrasts and compliments the red hues. With all these self portraits we see a relaxed and informal sitter and yet the process and cameras she used were far from relaxing. Edis’ autochrome work was recognised by the Royal Photographic society in which she became one of the first women to become a Fellow of the organisation.

Edis’ work in Autochrome deserves to be studied in more detail and this is something that I will be coming back to, but for now I would like to explore her work as a war photographer.

The First Official Female War Photographer appointed by the Imperial War Museum.

In October 1918, Olive Edis was commissioned by the Imperial War Museum’s ‘Women' s Work Committee’ to document women’s war effort in France and Belgium. As you can imagine, there was fierce opposition to the appointment of a woman going to the Front and she didn’t get there until March 1919 when the fighting had stopped. Travelling over 2,000 miles and covering a vast array of women’s positions on the frontline, Edis set to work with her large format camera and gelatin dry plates and documented women working as ambulance drivers, nurses, gardeners who looked after war graves, mechanics and many more.

Despite those who had reservations about sending a woman to the Front, (at the time of the appointment, fighting was still ongoing) Edis points out in her journal that a ‘woman photographer, living among the girls in the camps, was likely to achieve more intimate pictures, more descriptive of their everyday life, than a man press photographer.’

What is striking about Edis’ work is the depth and range of her subjects as well as the environments that she worked in. Within the portfolio we see nurses helping doctors with operations, drivers standing by their ambulances, women running canteens or sewing tents. She photographed both indoors as well as outside (which was often cold and snowing) and she documented people as well as landscapes and buildings ravaged and brutalised by four years of war. For me, one of the most striking images that she made was the ruined cottage in Pervyse, a first aid post that was run by the nurses/photographers, Elsie Knocker and Mairi Chisholm. This cottage was shelled and the nurses gassed (it was only a 100 yards from the frontline) and this is all that remained. It is a striking image despite or because of its simplicity - knowing that it was a place to heal the wounded makes it even more poignant - it is a devastating comment on war.

One of the most moving images that Edis produces is that of a woman from the Women’s Army Auxiliary Corps tending to the grave of Betty Stevenson. Edis writes in her journal, ‘Then we went down to the cemetery - a perfect forest of little crosses. We were directed to the section where the four Nursing Sisters killed in an air raid lay - with the Officers. Some WAAC girls always tended the graves, and a few of them came down and grouped at work for me to photograph them. I soon found Bettie Stevenson’s grave and singled it out for a special photograph.’

This is a powerful and evocative image of women's role and sacrifice during the First World War - a woman photographing a woman who is tending to the grave of a woman killed. Around them stand the graves of men. Betty Stevenson was a YMCA driver who was killed in an air raid in 1918 - she was just 21. If you are interested in reading more about Betty Stevenson then I recommend the Western Front Association website in which they write very movingly about her and it brings home that these images are more than just about photography, they are about humanity.

The final image of her war photography that I want to share is the ‘French civilian women repairing tents using a treadle sewing machine, 11March 1919’. Like Edis’ other work, we can see her studio photographer eye composing the scene and yet it is distinctly different from most of her other work. Yes, it is beautifully composed and lit but for me, there is less formality, less documentary and more empathy - this is possibly because it lacks the sharpness of her other work - the women in the back and the soldier to the side are blurred - the window, whilst allowing beautiful lighting, is itself blown out. The expressions on the women’s faces are deeply moving - the seamstresses are absorbed in their work, ignoring the photographer and the viewer - their body language is one of fatigue. The woman standing to the front left hand side looks directly at the camera and her face looks haunted and exhausted. The photo itself has the composure of a painting and evokes the weariness of war. For me, this is one of her most powerful images that she made as a war photographer in France and Belgium.

After the war, Edis continued to work as a studio photographer and remained in demand and was commissioned by the Canadian Pacific Railway Company to produce colour (autochrome) advertising images - it is believed that these are the first known colour photographs of Canada which have unfortunately been lost.

Edis married Edwin Galsworthy in 1928 - she was 52 years old. Olive Edis died on 28 December 1955, leaving behind a wonderful legacy in women’s photography. There is so much to explore and write about with Olive Edis and this post only scratches the surface. However, I shall return to her work and discuss her studio work, particularly her autochromes and will no doubt go back to her war photography, which I feel is deserving of more attention.

You can find her work at the Imperial War Museum, Cromer Museum and National Portrait Gallery. There is also a wonderful book ‘Fishermen and Kings. The Photography of Olive Edis.’ by Alistair Murphy and Elizabeth Elmore. Her journal is held in the Imperial War Museum archives.

I have been a photographer for over 20 years and throughout that time I have been influenced and inspired by countless women photographers throughout history. My first photographic exhibition was Julia Margaret Cameron at the National Portrait Gallery - I wasn’t a photographer then, I was teaching Women’s War Writing and Women’s Travel writing but I had stumbled upon her name and took myself off to see the exhibition. I never looked back - I can honestly say I fell in love with her work and it changed my life.

The aim of this blog is to write from a personal perspective about women photographers - I hope to provide biographies but I also want to look more closely at their work and lives and how they have inspired me as a female photographer. I will talk about those well known photographers, who have rightly found their place in the mainstream but I also hope to discover and write about those lesser known photographers who remain on the periphery of photo history - which is still dominated by men.

The image below is an example of the influence of photographers such as Julia Margaret Cameron, Lady Clementina Hawarden, and Evelyn Myers have had on my own photographic journey - and I am looking forward to writing about them as well as the many other fascinating women photographers throughout history.

A portrait of my daughter using the Wet Plate Collodion process.

Copyright: Deborah Parkin Photography