When it comes to photographic preservation, phrases like ‘emulsion damage’, ‘flaking emulsion’, ‘silver mirroring’, ‘broken or cracked plate’, and ‘poor condition’ do not conjure positive connotations. Digitisation, while often making material more accessible, is also a means of recording an object’s last gasp, not just as an image frozen in time, but also as a deteriorating physical form.

The Library uses a process called instant capture to digitise transmissive material (that is, materials like slides, film, and glass, all of which allow light to pass through them). Glass plates are shot over a lightbox (sitting on acid etched glass which diffuses the light, preventing undesirable ‘Newton’s rings’¹) using a medium format DSLR camera set at a 90-degree angle above. The captured ‘mirror image’ is flipped on import to a computer, then inverted, to create a positive image. Minimal global adjustments are applied (changes that affect the image as a whole) and the image is then exported as a greyscale file. This process aims to give the best balance between an exact digitisation of the negative and the photographer’s desired outcome.

Glass negatives were the most common medium used by professional photographers in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. It can be roughly divided into two eras: the collodion wet plate negative period (1851 to around 1885²) and the gelatin dry plate negative era (around 1878 to the mid 1920s³).

All the examples presented are from gelatin dry plate negatives, a technique that arrived in Australia around 1880. ⁴ It is a format often credited with ushering in the age of modern photography. The complicated chemical process to make the plates meant that they were produced under controlled conditions and sold ready to use.⁵ Unlike the earlier wet plate glass negative (which required the photographer to prepare the plate just before taking the photograph and develop it straight after), dry plates, if stored correctly, could be developed at at later time, making them much more convenient.

Negatives are valuable and unique. Unlike a print (which could be one of hundreds of copies of an image), the glass plate is the original ‘parent’ copy of that image — the only one of its kind in the world. From the photographer’s perspective, the plate was not designed to be seen by the public. Instead, a contact print would be made, which would be the ‘public’ face of the image.

A number of the examples below are from John William Lindt. He was a prolific and well known photographer originally from Germany.⁶ While a number of his negatives and prints survive in library and museum collections, it would only be a fraction of what was shot. A 1931 newspaper article quotes a talk on preservation where it is noted that Lindt’s widow destroyed 40,000 negatives after he died.⁷ It is estimated that less than one per cent of glass negatives created from 1900 onward have survived. This is due to various factors, including the fact that valuable silver could be extracted from them, which became a commodity when silver was in short supply during both WWI and WWII.⁸ The unfortunate damage that befell some of his glass plates prior to arriving in our collection has, through digital reproduction, revealed unforeseen and unintentional abstracted wonders as cracks and emulsion damage create new focal points within the images.

The image below shows a broken plate where glass has been carefully reassembled so it can be captured as best as possible. The pristine negative no longer exists, but what we do have is still a striking image, thunderous cracks of glass feeling somewhat at home with the theatrical performance captured in the picture. The close-up example underneath the full picture shows the poignancy of the interplay between the image and the condition of the vessel which contains it.

While the obscuring of the background and lower torso in the photograph below is most likely intentional on the part of the photographer (you can find multiple examples of ‘bust’ type portraits), the scratches and damage to the plate lend the image an extra layer of melancholy as the ‘unidentified young woman’ stares directly at the viewer.

The picture below shows a good example of the chemistry that goes into producing a photograph; the damaged areas have a very biological appearance, like a scientific demonstration of different chemical reactions. In part this reveals the fact that it was quite a marvel that something could be developed to get an emulsion layer — and subsequently an image to ‘stick’ to glass at all.

Much like an old china cup, you can see what looks like crazing on the surface of this image, where the emulsion has hardened and cracked:

Squinting at the close up below showed a face lurking in this ghostly image. The full picture underneath shows the original sitter, now much more a part of the background then intended:

Artist Eugene Von Guérard (pictured below) has his ‘thinking cap’ on (potentially a velvet smoking/night cap). The radiating organic patterns (that may be remnants of mould) appear to give form to artistic expression; the accidental break which has left only the top half of the image intact draws the eye upwards.

The next image has quite a lot of emulsion damage to the centre of the picture, but emulsion physically pulling away and contracting on the glass lends its own beauty and interest to the photograph:

In close-up, the above image more closely resembles a topological map of some non-existent archipelago. The areas of pure black are places where the emulsion layer (and thus part of the image) has completely come away. This would appear transparent on the original negative.

The accidental crack of the glass often feels sympathetically aligned, enhancing rather than detracting from the image. The new shape of the glass in the picture below seems to purposefully frame the sitter, complementing the outward gaze.⁹

While it’s hard to identify the exact causes of damage, the patterns left on the negative below imply that it was prised off something that was stuck on top. The damaged areas dance around the figure by the piano, a ‘visual’ musical accompaniment:

Another example of sympathetic damage can be seen below; the crack of the glass draws focus to the child (whose attention was probably drawn by the photographer). The woman appears as if she is being pulled from the image by the damage coming from the right of frame.

It appears like someone may have tried to clean this photograph below, leading to accidental ‘obliteration’ of the very thing that is most treasured in old portraits, the face!¹⁰ Even with the interesting storm obscuring the top of the picture, there is still valuable historical information to be gleaned from the details of the subject’s clothing and jewellery:

Extensive damage has reduced this image below to a pair of disembodied feet. There is still valuable information in the surviving fragments (especially if you are interested in historical shoes). The print created from this negative may be out there somewhere (which would reveal the full picture), but the incomplete puzzle we are left with shows how lucky we are that any of these plates have survived at all:

Many more interesting pictures (damaged and otherwise) have been digitised and can be found in our catalogue. The growing collection of digitised Glass negatives and lantern slides (over 57,000 and counting) can also be accessed on our Collection Discovery page.

You can read more in: Broken glass 2: eclectic boogaloo. More imperfect gems from Library’s picture collection

Thanks to staff in Collection Curation, Conservation, Digital Production, Digitising and Document Delivery and Preservation for their advice and expertise.

Further reading

• Benson, R, 2008, The Printed Picture, Museum of Modern Art, New York
• Davies, A, Stanbury, P & Tanre, C, 1985, The Mechanical Eye in Australia : Photography 1841-1900, Oxford University Press, Melbourne
• Jones, S, J.W. Lindt, Master Photographer, 1985, Currey O’Neil Ross on behalf of Library Council of Victoria, South Yarra, Victoria
• Long, S, 2023, ‘Now we know you are there:19th to mid-20th century professional women photographers in the Pictures Collection,’ LaTrobe Journal, vol 108, December, pp 20 – 38

More to explore

Nineteenth century Victorians

Who’s that girl? Dating a 19th century photograph

Send in the clowns

References

1. Optical interference which can cause coloured rings to show when two pieces of glass (or transmissive materials) with slightly different curvatures are placed together
2. Valverde, M, F, Photographic Negatives: Nature and Evolution of Processes, 2nd ed, Advanced Residency Program in Photograph Conservation, New York, p 9
3. As above, p 14
4. Cato, J, 1977, The Story of the Camera in Australia, 2nd ed, Institute of Australian Photography, Melbourne, p 62
5. Benson, R, 2008, The Printed Picture, Museum of Modern Art, New York, p 146
6. Cato, J, 1977, The Story of the Camera in Australia, 2nd ed., Institute of Australian Photography, Melbourne, pp 70-71
7. Daily Examiner Thursday 19 November, 1931, p 4
8. Barrie, S, Australians Behind the Camera: Directory of Early Australian Photographers, 1841 to 1945, 2002, Sandie Barrie, Sydney South, pp 234 – 235
9. This was most likely captured with a piece of black card behind the image so it would show as white when made positive.
10. Most likely it is caused by the slow creep of moisture over time reacting to and eroding the emulsion layer.