I’ve always loved photography, especially old black and whites. I suspect it started with the magical collection of old photos in the steamer trunk of my childhood home. It seems that my family took to photography as soon as it was invented. I particularly love the photographs of my great uncle, Edwin C. Isakson. He died during WWII but left a loving photo documentary of my family behind.

It was the cabinet card of the farrier above that began my collection of equestrian photography. It hadn’t occurred to me until then that I wasn’t limited to my family collection. And so I soon began collecting glass plate negatives here and there, mostly of people posing with their beloved equine friends. I connect with that beloved feeling, being a lifelong horse person myself. Occasionally, I’ll pick up a bull portrait. There’s something the about the agricultural pride of a prized bull that makes me smile (not in a puzzled city-dweller kind of way. In a, “I showed cows in 4H one summer when I was a kid” kind of way, so I get it. Kind of.).

That I collect photos of unknown people by unknown photographers started simply because I didn’t have a lot of money at the time. I just loved the photos. But now, it’s what makes my collection unique, and what makes it valuable to me: the mystery of their stories. I admire the photographers, whose identities I may never discover, and I feel a sort of kinship, recognition at least, with the equestrians who came before me.

Over the years, my archival methods have improved. I have special acid-free boxes, envelopes, and paper that I store each photo or negative in after it’s been scanned. The photos above aren’t edited. Hopefully, I’ll get around to posting the edited versions at some point. I find the entire process of collecting, archiving, and digital editing relaxing. It feels meaningful to take care of a collection.

At the same time though, it makes me feel sad when I find some of them. Why are they for sale? Where are their families? I picked up an off topic one that I couldn’t leave behind of an elderly woman with her giant dog. (I’ll post it soon.) It’s such a wonderful portrait taken in her living room. She’s smiling with her dog on her worn couch, with her cozy slippers and wool sweater on. She must have some living relatives out there somewhere that would cherish it. This of course gave me an idea. More on that later.