and Eastman sold more than 150,000 Brownie cameras in 1900, the year of their introduction.3 As I mentioned in the introduction, smiling made a relatively late appearance as one of the commanded gestures of the photographic moment. People who showed their teeth in pictures were likely to be lower class, inebriates, or children.4 The decision to include the dog in the solemnized photographic moment was not casual, then. Undoubtedly, some people brought the dog with them because their fondness designated the dog as a valued family member. Others, however, were being attentive to the accoutrements of middle-class life, and introducing the potential mess and exuberance of a dog into this dignified occasion required care, so that the dog participated in delivering a controlled message.
Figure 16 presents one of those stiff-looking portraits that we associate with nineteenth-century photography, and in it we see how the dog contributes to the communication. The original image is a cabinet card, which became a popular format for preserving and displaying photographs.5 The distinguishing feature of a cabinet card is that the photograph is mounted on stiff cardboard, thus providing a flat frame so that the picture could be propped for display on a cabinet shelf. A photo on a 20.3 × 12.7 cm (8 × 5 in.) card was typically 10.1 × 12.7 cm (4 × 5 in.), although both cards and photos can be much larger. Sources vary on the approximate dating for cabinet cards, but it is generally accurate to say they were introduced in the 1860s and enjoyed peak popularity between 1870 and 1910; their use had waned by 1920. Typically, cabinet cards involved a studio setting, and we are most likely to discover recognizable dog breeds in the studio photos, because these are the folks who could best afford the purebred dog and the studio setting. At the same time, it is important to note that while the professional photographer took his or her place in the economics of image making, the accessibility of the technology made it possible for individuals to take charge of their own image making. Some cabinet cards offer a polished studio presentation, while others show the hastiest of backgrounds and poorly cut, processed, and pasted images.6
The cabinet card in figure 16 is imprinted with the name of the photographer, who has embellished his logo and provided a classical background of pillars and an urn. The woman’s hair and clothing are good indicators for dating. Her hair, with its soft, off-the-face styling, is incongruously accented by a hair ornament that appears to be stabbed into the bun at the back of the head, and, along with the legof-mutton sleeves, suggests a time frame of 1895–1900,7 keeping in mind that not everyone immediately updated their wardrobe every time a new fashion emerged. It was common in the last decade of the century for men to sit and women to stand, following the expectation that seating belongs to those of higher status.8 The woman in this portrait lays a proprietary hand on the man’s shoulder, but otherwise there is no physical or visual contact between the subjects or between subjects and viewer. The man is entirely self-referential in his physical pose, despite the dog on his lap. In fact, the dog is the only warming touch in the photo, but even the dog looks uncomfortable. There is something ambiguous about bringing the animal up from the floor, putting it in a potentially close relationship, and yet creating a scene in which each creature remains isolated and lonely-looking.
FIGURE 16
Cabinet card, 1890s, 9.8 × 14.2 cm. Photograph by Eugene Popp. Evansville, Indiana.
It was not the mechanical requirements of the camera that enforced this rigid image, and the difference is readily obvious if we compare this portrait with portraits presented in an earlier format, the carte de visite (CDV). These images, introduced around 1854, are typically 6.3 × 10.1 cm (2.5 × 4 in.). They are presented in a convenient calling-card size, which is in fact what they were used for, as well as for trading with friends to add to an album collection. Eight to twelve images at a time could be made from a single negative. The CDVs are easier to date than the cabinet cards, and experts usually look at the color of the card, its thickness (the thinner it is, the older it is), the kind of edges and decorations embellishing the card, and the setting and composition (the more elaborate the setting, the more recent the card). The peak popularity for CDVs was the first half of the 1860s, and they are uncommon after 1885. Thus, if exposure time was an issue, we might expect that this older presentation format would show stiffer subjects. Yet while there are certainly formal CDV images, there are also many that show a relaxed subject, such as figure 17.
FIGURE 17
Lillie and Carlo. CDV, 1865–1870, 5.4 × 8.9 cm. Photograph by Payne & Bagley, New Star Photograph Gallery, 205 Third Street, San Francisco, California.
FIGURE 18
CDV, 1860s, 5.6 × 8.7 cm. Photograph by H. W. &B. D. Bolles. Le Raysville, Pennsylvania.
This playful image has been hand-tinted and the upholstered chair colored a dark green. The back of this small card identifies not only the photographer but also the subjects, Lillie and Carlo. Lillie’s hair and dress, and the format of the card itself, suggest a date in the late 1860s. Lillie is leaning forward, probably steadying the dog, and she’s smiling about it, clearly enjoying the frivolity of the moment. During the auction at which this image was sold, there was also a solo image of a much more conventional Lillie without the dog, standing straight and with a solemn face. The image in figure 17 seems to be the one taken between the prepared shots—the one that records both the human and the canine smile.
In addition to the cabinet card and CDV, the tintype was another popular format. Tintypes could be produced in any number of sizes, including the tiny “gem” portraits that were sometimes mounted in a CDV-size card (i.e., 6.3 × 10.1 cm). Tintype images were made in a durable metal, but the image itself tended to be dark and was subject to scratching, so I have included very few of these. The CDV and the tintype, however, were convenient for their portability, and many Civil War families had pictures made in the CDV or tintype format for soldiers to carry into war. Figure 18 is a CDV with a wistfulness about it, which, along with the possible dating, suggests that such a usage might be part of the missing narrative. The large dog, probably a Newfoundland, has been made an integral part of the photographic relationship. His big body is draped over a chair that is pulled alongside the boy’s, and both have kept very still. There is a light pinking on the boy’s cheeks, added to give a more natural appearance. Both the tinting and the pose suggest an implicit warmth and affection that is lacking in figure 16. Thus neither the technology nor the format required a stiff, unsmiling presentation, but until Kodak was able to persuade Americans that the smile was a necessary feature of family documentation, the dog filled in that missing smile. However, as we have seen in figures 16 and 17, the dog can function as the visual welcome only if the human subjects have allowed it, so choices about poses and settings are important elements in this communication.
None of the conventions that present a dog in a photograph is particularly surprising. Dogs may be put on the floor, sleeping or sitting at the feet of the master. The erect young African American man in figure 19 is tall and so formal in his demeanor that it is easy to overlook the sleeping pug on the floor. The sparseness of this studio setting is interesting, because the time frame for this portrait would lead us to expect a more decorated setting.