Review: Through Shaded Glass: Women and Photography in Aotearoa New Zealand 1860 – 1960
The contribution of women to the first century of photography has been overlooked across the world, including in New Zealand. With few exceptions, photographic histories have tended to focus on the male maker. Through Shaded Glass: Women and Photography in Aotearoa New Zealand 1860 – 1960 tilts the balance, unearthing a large and hitherto unknown number of women photographers, both professional and amateur, who operated in New Zealand from the 1860s to 1960.
As one of Aotearoa’s most knowledgeable and experienced photographic historians, there is no one better than Lissa Mitchell to research, distill and re-contextualise the photographic history of our country.
To do so, to redress and rebalance the history books and give visibility to 195 previously unknown women photographers, many of whom are reveled to be at the forefront of photographic innovation and adoption of new techniques, is nothing short of astonishing. Mitchell’s erudite and enthralling new book, Through Shaded Glass, synthesises years of her own archival research, handling and preservation insights, together with the work of other scholars, to bring these specters who previously lurked just outside the frame into focus.
From the moment we crack open the beguiling cover, featuring Lily Byttiner’s In the Auckland Domain Wintergardens, about 1950, and a warm Kowhai yellow fabric bound spine, we disappear into a bygone era. An era where women had few options and fewer rights. An era where expectations about behaviour and one’s place were vastly different from the experiences of women working in the field today. An era where huge changes in technology led to significant and generally positive political and social changes that benefited women, giving them the ability to provide for and support themselves and their families.
Making full use of the depth of her art and photographic history knowledge, combined with technical insights into photographic processes, Mitchell gives us a glimpse through the shaded glass. She leads us on a journey of discovery, revealing the realities, sans any romanticized notions, of what it was to be a female photographer in Aotearoa prior to 1960.
From darkroom practices, hand colouring, studio portraiture, workplace discrimination, being forced to surrender cameras to the police and the beginnings of free expression of female identity, each facet is clearly laid out in black and white. Constructed in a loosely chronological order, each chapter explores a different aspect of the female reality of making images through the decades. Contained within each chapter are the stories of individual women, crafted into vignette like snapshots of their lives, experiences, and occasionally, their personal thoughts feelings about their role as a photographer.
In bringing all these forgotten, overlooked women together, illuminating their realities, trials, tribulations and achievements, Mitchell has given them a voice and opened the door to further scholarship on these women as individuals.
This structural approach was a little jarring at first. However, when you consider the complexity and weight of the task Mitchell set out to achieve with this text, her direct, almost journalistic report-like writing style is pitch perfect. It gives the book a brisk tempo, propelling the reader forward so we don’t get lost in the summer of 1912.
The tempo of the book is further enhanced by the numerous full-page images of the works Mitchell refers to. To have so many images, so many names, (many which may not have been seen or thought of for decades), brought together for the first time truly does give one pause. Not only pause to celebrate Mitchell’s achievement and contribution to photographic history and the history of women in art, but also pause to consider how little is known about these women.
To have 195 names collected and committed to the cannon through print is vitally important, not to mention an astonishing achievement, but I did find myself craving to know more than their biographic details. I wanted more than a peak between the gap in the dark room curtain. I wanted to get to know them. I wanted their story. Then again, Mitchell did warn me at the outset: records about these women and their lives are scarce. Because records about women from this period in general are scarce. I simply wasn’t prepared for what this translates to in reality: when the facts themselves are scarce, there is only a gossamer fine thread of story to be told. To embellish, without evidence and potentially out of context, would distort history.
This is not to say that being given facts interlaced with relevant social and political context is not engaging. In fact, it is quite the opposite. Charting the century this way reveals a great deal about Aotearoa and our culture, some details of which I was in the dark about. In chapter four, Being Modern, Mitchell introduces us to Irene Koppel.
Of all the women featured in the book, Koppel’s story is one of the most abundant. This is because, as Mitchell foreshadowed, there was a great deal on record to inform the story, because Koppel’s is a story of controversy. Koppel was a highly skilled, technically trained photographer and one of many German Jewish refugees who arrived in Aotearoa in 1937 after fleeing Nazi Germany. From her arrival, until 1940, Koppel established herself as a sought-after photojournalist and architectural photographer.
That all changed in 1940 when an update to “The Alien Control Emergency Regulations… prohibited aliens from possessing, among other things, ‘any camera or other photographic apparatuses, without special police permission.” This led to widespread distrust of Koppel and other immigrant refugees. Her camera was forcibly surrendered to the police and she was no longer allowed to make a living as a photographer. It was not until 1945, “after the end of the war when Koppel’s registration as an alien was cancelled.” That she was freely able to use her camera.
Koppel’s story has been indelibly etched into my consciousness. Not only because I was naive to the full extent of restrictions and discrimination that immigrants who came to Aotearoa endured, but because of her consistent determination and repeated attempts at pushing back against the status quo to simply be allowed to work and express herself through her chosen creative outlet. Koppel’s is but one story among the 194 others. Without each of these women, the dynamic and exciting work of today’s contemporary female photographers, be they commercial or fine artists, would have nothing to build on.
In bringing all these forgotten, overlooked women together, illuminating their realities, trials, tribulations and achievements, Mitchell has given them a voice and opened the door to further scholarship on these women as individuals. Their contributions, and the essential role that women played within the evolution of photographic practice in Aotearoa is now firmly cemented.
In the epilogue Mitchell writes, “Photographs, after all, are made by people – often multiple people – and the world those people inhabit determines the images they make and how they make them.” Through Shaded Glass introduces us to these wonderful pioneering women and takes us into these worlds. It is a whirlwind tour and it is well worth it.
Reviewed by Jessica Agoston Cleary
