Thanks

Yesterday I mailed complimentary copies of Confederate Faces to individuals who played critical roles in the book's development. I struggled to find the correct words to express my gratitude for the generosity and support of so many people. I inscribed title pages with various phrases including "with deep appreciation," "profound thanks," and other expressions. These words are fitting and proper, and pay tribute to their contributions.

The key word is generosity. So many people gave freely of their time and expertise. I am indebted to them all. And, as I wrote words of thanks in each book, was awestruck by the genuine goodness of so many, not on my behalf, but for the preservation and memory of the millions of men, North and South, who went to war during our nation's greatest crisis.

"The history of the Civil War is the stories of its soldiers," I write in the introduction to this volume, and I thank each and every one of the individuals here today who helped to tell those stories.

"It's a Book"

This is the subject line of the email I received Monday from Anne Whitmore at The Johns Hopkins University Press, informing me that the first copy of Confederate Faces had arrived, and that it would be soon be on its way from her office in Baltimore to my home. Considering the holiday yesterday, I did not expect to receive it until tomorrow at the earliest.

It showed up on our doorstep today. Anne called me at the office, but got my voicemail, and decided then and there to make it a surprise. Tonight after dinner, she distracted me with YouTube videos and brought out a chocolate cake with candles, a card, and the package containing the book. She definitely caught me off guard and totally by surprise! After blowing out the candles, I opened the package. The fine folks at JHUP did a great job all around. I am truly pleased with it!

The Art of J.P. Ball

One of the speakers at the Daguerreian Society symposium, Theresa Leininger-Miller, presented a paper on James Presley Ball (1825-1904), a noted Cincinnati photographer of African American descent. At the end of the program, she made a plea for images by Ball. I took the opportunity to send her the carte de visite pictured here, along with this comment:

Ball's work is, in many respects, similar to many photographers of the time — with two exceptions: He clearly understood light, and used it to great advantage to create subtle contrast. Also, his portraits suggest an eye for composition. In the carte de visite of the unidentified infantryman, for example, the musket resting against the column creates a diagonal element that compliments the ever-so-slightly angled railing, curved drapery and chair, and creates balance between the strong vertical lines indicated by the column and figure. If you imagine the scene without the chair, and with the soldier grasping his musket (an approach most photographers might have taken), the image becomes less interesting. The lighting, from the subject's left, creates a fine contrast on his face. The light has also caused a glint on the bayonet and upper half of the musket, emphasizing the subject's military connection. In combination with the simple uniform coat, unadorned by decoration (save his corporal's stripes) or accoutrement, the image informs us in a nuanced way that this is an amateur soldier — a volunteer — rather than a professional soldier.

Daguerreian Society Symposium

This is my first year attending the annual Daguerreian Society symposium, and I've enjoyed it immensely. Held at the National Portrait Gallery in Washington, D.C., it has provided me with an opportunity to catch up with old friends, make new acquaintances, and put faces with names previously familiar to me only by email and eBay.

Of particular interest was author Joe Bauman's account of the eight Daguerreotypes of Revolutionary War veterans he has collected, and the research he has done about their military service. Bauman and I share the same excitement for the powerful combination of photographic portrait and life story.

I also enjoyed the group Daguerreotype, taken from a second story window in the NPG courtyard. The light was not bright, and so the camera operator called for a two-minute exposure. This gave me a real sense of what it is like to have to remain absolutely still for what seemed like an eternity. He made three plates, and I'm interested to see the results.