1278
of covert photography was deemed to be so tempting that
even members of reputable clubs and societies had to be
warned about succumbing to its attractions. In 1892, a
speaker at a meeting of the West Surrey Photographic
Society hoped that members of his audience ‘would not
at any time bring discredit upon hand-camera work by
‘snap-shotting’ (sic) persons under conditions which
might cause unpleasantness’ (BJP, 11 November 1892,
732). The appropriate choice of subject was not the
only cause for concern. The convenience, fl exibility,
cheapness and comparative ease of use of hand cam-
eras challenged photography’s status both as an ‘art’
and as a ‘craft’ requiring skill and dedication. As The
Amateur Photographer observed in 1894: ‘The hand-
camera has not exercised a most salutary infl uence on
the status of photography; the use of the instrument,
the cheapness of some forms too, tending to produce a
careless haphazard style of working in which ‘fl ukes’
are sure to be occasionally successfu.’ (The Amateur
Photographer, 5 January 1894). Alfred Stieglitz, de-
spite being an early advocate of the hand-camera as a
creative tool, concurred: ‘The placing in the hands of
the general public a means of making pictures with but
little labor and requiring less knowledge has of necessity
been followed by the production of millions of photo-
graphs. It is due to this fatal facility that photography
as a picture-making medium has fallen into disrepute’
(Scribner’s Magazine, November 1899, quoted in Nick-
el, Snapshots, 11). Indeed, since snapshots are usually
taken by people with little or no technical knowledge
or aesthetic sensibility—with predictable results—the
word has also acquired a pejorative association. This
seems to be a comparatively recent interpretation. Paul
Martin, for example, usually described his photographs
as ‘snapshots’ or even ‘snaps’ and even called his 1939
autobiography Victorian Snapshots.
Confused and threatened by such rapid change, some
photographers looked back at what they perceived as
a lost ‘golden age’: ‘In the good old time of collodion
and silver baths, amateur photographers were compara-
tively few, and they were looked up to by their friends
as being far above ordinary mortals, owing to their
knowledge of the black art...They had to do all the work
themselves...and felt rewarded for all their trouble by
their intense pride in the result. Now, alas! All that is
changed, the amateur photographer is everywhere; he
knows nothing of the troubles of his predecessors and
has no respect for the old amateur...who often fi nds that
he has to take a back seat to make room for the man
who, only last week, bought a ‘complete outfi t’ for a
guinea, ‘directions for use’ included’ (BJP Almanac,
1890,p446). Some die-hard conservatives refused to
compromise. Colonel Joseph Gale, for example, when
asked whether he would consider doing some hand-
camera work, replied, ‘I have not descended to level
yet.’ (The Photographic Journal, July 1934, 345). Oth-
ers, however, such as Paul Martin, actively embraced
the new and exciting possibilities offered by the dry
plate and hand-camera, capturing the world of the 1890s
with his trusty ‘Facile’ camera, tucked under his arm.
Discovering the delights of candid photography, he
later enthused, ‘It is impossible to describe the thrill
which taking the fi rst snap without being noticed gave
one’ (Paul Martin, Victorian Snapshots, 22). George
Davison, who as well as being a leading pictorial pho-
tographer was also a director and assistant manager of
the Eastman Photographic materials Company, man-
aged to persuade several of his photographic friends,
including Eustace Calland, J. Craig Annan and Frank
Meadow Sutcliffe, to try out Kodak rollfi lm cameras
so that the results could be used for advertising or pro-
motion. In 1897, in another initiative to promote the
legitimacy of the hand-camera, Davison organised the
fi rst public exhibition of snapshot photography. As well
as amateur work received as entries for an international
competition, the exhibition also included an invitation
section of work by leading pictorial photographers and
a selection of work by Royal photographers, including
Princess Alexandra. The exhibition was a great suc-
cess and after its three-week run at the New Gallery
in London’s Regent Street transferred to the National
Academy of Design in New York.
The success of the Eastman Exhibition was a mea-
sure of the extent to which snapshot photography had
caught the interest of the public. Whilst the debate about
snapshot photography rumbled on in the photographic
press and in club and society meetings, the public had,
it seemed, already made up its mind, knowing little
and caring even less about the opinions of the likes of
Colonel Gale or Alfred Stieglitz. Events had conspired
to overtake matters. For in the wider world a revolution
was taking place. A revolution that was to fundamentally
alter the nature of amateur photography; A revolution
that had been triggered in 1888 by the appearance of a
‘detective’ camera named The Kodak.
Marketed with the famous slogan ‘You press the but-
ton, we do the rest,’ the Kodak was simple enough for
anyone to use. Eastman claimed: ‘We furnish anybody,
man, woman or child, who has suffi cient intelligence
to point a box straight and press a button...with an in-
strument which altogether removes from the practice of
photography the necessity for exceptional facilities, or
in fact any special knowledge of the art. Signifi cantly,
the camera formed merely part of a complete system
of amateur photography that was to revolutionise
photography. The Kodak camera was pre-loaded with
fi lm. After this had been exposed, the entire camera was
returned to the factory for the fi lm to be developed and