Something I’ve a word to say–

   Something I would recommend:

If an offering you would lay

   On friendships altar, for a friend, 

Go at once–let no delay

   Of business keep you from the place–

Go to Schoonmaker’s and get a picture

   Of your handsome face. 

–      Author unknown, “Schoonmaker’s Sun Portrait”1

 

The above poem pulls on sentimental heartstrings to advertise the business endeavors of the nineteenth-century photographer Christopher C. Schoonmaker (active 1840s-1870s?), joining consumerism and art in a perfect union (Fig. 1).2
Similarly, an encased daguerreotype made by this Troy-based photographer in the late 1850s stands between profitable commodity and artful keepsake (Fig. 2). Now housed in the Columbia University Art Properties collection, the object simultaneously represents a piece of innovative technology and a beloved portrait– an object that demands to be handled and a photograph that begs to be viewed.

Schoonmaker used a variety of materials, commercially obtained and artistically manipulated, to create this mid-nineteenth-century encased daguerreotype. A case, made of an ordinary wooden core and overlaid with embossed leather, is painted to appear to be luxuriously carved lumber. Its small rectangular size beckons intimate encounters; its rich texture inspires a sense of awe (Figs. 3 & 4). As fingers run across the object’s surface, they fall upon a small metallic clasp, which one must wiggle to unlock. The case opens as if a book, and when it unfolds, a sumptuous red-lined panel rests in the left hand, while the right hand supports a chemically processed silver plate disguised as a harmonious image: the daguerreotype.3
Placed underneath a brass mat that sits atop a panel of glass, this early form of photography presents itself as both a negative and a positive, an effect dependent on the angle by which it is held. As one maneuvers the image, the contrast between negative and positive creates a phantom-like image of a seated woman.4

The woman, her name unknown to us today, sits in front of a gray backdrop and gazes into the distance. Her face as it appears in the daguerreotype seems soft and her nose round, her cheeks are slightly tinted with paint; her hair is parted down the middle and pinned back so that it falls just below the top of her ear. She sits in a chair, placing her right hand rather stiffly on her lap, while her left arm hangs over a chair in a more relaxed manner (Emily Wehby’s essay “Visite Portraits of Women and Men” provides further details about the use of furniture in mid-nineteenth century photographic portraits). Her body leans with her extended arm and twists slightly. The sitter’s coiffed appearance and purposeful pose illustrate her active role in the creation of this object; she chose the studio of Christopher C. Schoonmaker and posed for the image, knowing the beautifully tactile, functional case would accompany it, as it was necessary to protect the delicate image within.5

During the exchange between photographed and photographer, this object momentarily revealed itself to be a commodity: an object deemed valuable by the standards set forth by society.6
It may appear unjust to label this highly personalized keepsake a commodity, taking the definition of “goods destined for circulation and exchange” too far.7
Yet, doing so allows us to consider the encased daguerreotype as a microcosm of Schoonmaker’s capitalistic pursuits and a site of the sitter’s projected aspirations.

Opposite the daguerreotype, the red velvet panel displays words that read: “FROM / SCHOONMAKERS / 282 / RIVER ST / TROY N.Y.” Schoonmaker’s name and address serve to advertise his photographic talents, ensuring that his name would forever be attached to the beautiful image he produced, as was so for countless other of his contemporaneous creations (Figs. 5 & 6). Schoonmaker was simultaneously a “capitalist of Troy” and a “well known artist of this city,” as respectively published in the Troy Daily Times on April 29, 1867 and February 9, 1871.8
Yet, besides intermittent features in local newspapers, history appears to have largely overlooked this multifaceted figure, who had also once served as secretary and treasurer of the Rensselaer Oil Company (c. 1865), entered into a limited partnership to sell dry goods (c. 1860s), and was even president of Troy’s croquet club (c. 1871).9
Schoonmaker was a businessman, but ultimately, his business was in service of his artistic practice, in which he took great pride.

Schoonmaker first established his studio at 282 River Street in Troy, New York around 1855, as evidenced both by an encased daguerreotype from that same year stamped with this address and a newspaper article from 1873 (Fig. 7).10
At 282 River Street, Schoonmaker’s studio was in the heart of Troy’s bustling downtown, surrounded by numerous stores and rivaling photographic studios. Shoppers would have passed by Schoonmaker’s studio on their way to buy boots at Chas Ulrich’s shop on 186 River Street or jewelry at S. Daskam’s, just a two-minute walk away on 260 River Street.11
But so too would they have walked by Schoonmaker’s photographic competitors: L. C. Everett on the corner of First and River Street, and John Irving at 218 River Street.12
Among these rivals, Schoonmaker triumphed, his economic success both a product and sign of his outstanding skills: those required to create and sell the encased daguerreotype.

Considering this vibrant network of commercial activity, it is possible that Schoonmaker purchased his materials from the surrounding shops; it is more likely, however, that he sourced his materials from one of the many available manufacturers themselves. Mid-nineteenth-century Troy was a prosperous hub of industry, one best known for its steel and iron production.13
Its ideal location along the Hudson River and large train station connected it to the rest of the world, facilitating trade on a regional, national, and international scale.14
Surely Schoonmaker, a businessman and artist, cut his costs by purchasing wisely while maintaining high standards. Such may explain the photographer’s ability to promise “the best when it costs no more,” a common tag line in multiple advertisements.15

Schoonmaker harnessed the technology of his era to create desirable products, the encased daguerreotype of the unknown woman among them. When Louis Daguerre invented the daguerreotype in 1839, the first widely accessible form of photography made a splash as an enrapturing art form and a thrilling innovation.16
In its earliest form, the daguerreotype took great skill on behalf of the photographer and great patience on the part of the sitter, the newness and complexity of this technical artform contributing to its allure, which lasted well into the 1860s. In 1854, James Ambrose Cutting patented the ambrotype in Boston; in 1856, the ferrotype was introduced to American markets; and in 1847 the albumen print was invented, although not utilized regularly for another decade.17
For a short period in time, these new processes, faster, cheaper, and more automated than anything before, stood in contrast to the daguerreotype, which was comparatively more expensive, artful, and prestigious.

It is here that the sitter’s desires begin to reveal themselves, why she sought out this particular type of object, and significantly, why she desired to sit for this particular type of photographic process. The woman could have chosen to sit for an ambrotype or a silver albumen print, as Schoonmaker’s studio practiced each of those processes, as shown in an ambrotype portrait of a woman made between 1857 and 1861 and an albumen print of an unidentified man made in the 1860s (Figs. 8 & 9). The anonymous woman, however, chose to sit for a daguerreotype, perhaps because of its well-established practice or clear, accurate imagery. As a photographer in the age of constantly evolving technologies, Schoonmaker’s studio both “responded by becoming artsier and more exclusive” by maintaining his Daguerrean practice, while also becoming “more accessible and cheaper” by introducing the more recent processes.18
The woman we see emerging from the daguerreotype’s metallic plate clearly desired to be amongst those associated with the former categorization.

As a desirable object and a site of desires, Schoonmaker’s daguerreotype also gives the viewer a window into the coveted self-image of the sitter. While it is unknown whether her encased daguerreotype was destined for a loved one or kept in her personal possession, the woman knew she was sitting for a portrait that would forever preserve her likeness. The posture of the woman’s upper body, in addition to the muted backdrop, roughly echoes the composition of the costly painted miniatures that preceded the advent of photography, as can be seen in two oval miniatures now at The Metropolitan Museum of Art, one of a woman painted in 1758 and the other of a man from 1790 (Figs. 10 & 11).19
While painted miniatures had been out of style by the 1850s, their compositions were reincarnated by the early celebrity photographic portraits, which in turn served to inspire the masses.20
The allusion to the painted miniature, a medium once so expensive that only few could afford it, could have been purposed to confirm the anonymous sitter’s association with the upper class. She is dressed in the contemporary fashions of the day with the intention of presenting herself as a stylish, sophisticated woman. She wears pearl-drop earrings, multiple rings, a brooch that hangs from her scalloped chemise, and an elaborate, metallic clasp that pulls together the V-neck of her outer costume.21
The sitter’s dark billowing sleeves cinch at wrists where a floral pattern is visible.22
Her wide skirt, which takes up the bottom axis of the image, is plaid.23
Not only were these items fashionable in mid-nineteenth-century America, but also in Western Europe, as fashion magazines began to cover trends in Paris and London, for instance. The sitter thus presents herself not only as stylish but worldly, a woman with the knowledge to discern amongst foreign trends and prosperous enough afford them.

In the mid-nineteenth century, in the moments when the encased daguerreotype transferred hands from Christopher C. Schoonmaker to the now anonymous woman, the object existed as a sought-after work of art to one and a salable product to another. As the sitter posed for this daguerreotype, she thoughtfully projected the woman she believed herself to be. As it is displayed in modern times, Schoonmaker’s encased daguerreotype no longer retains its status as a commodity nor as a personal keepsake. Rather, the object serves as a window to the past, inviting onlookers to interpret this unknown figure and draw their own conclusions about the intricate case, the reflective image plate, and the sumptuous clothing and accessories. Now, one can only imagine the multiplicity of significances of Schoonmaker’s encased daguerreotype held in its lifetime.

• 1[Christopher C. Schoonmaker], “Schoonmaker’s Sun Painting,” Troy Daily Times, July 9, 1864.
• 2Several clippings from the Troy Daily Times indicate Schoonmaker’s photographic career spanned from at least 1847 to 1875 in that city. See “Important Patent Suit Determined–The Rights of Photographers–How a Trojan Fought and Conquered A Boston Firm,” Troy Daily Times, February 9, 1871; [Christopher C. Schoonmaker], “Get the Best When It Costs No More,” Troy Daily Times, June 26, 1875.
• 3The daguerreotype is an early photographic process invented by Louis Daguerre in 1839. To make a daguerreotype, one first had to fervently polish a silver coated copper plate. The plate was then fumed with iodize particles, which, when placed into the box-shaped cameras of the time and exposed to light, reacted to form an image. Still, at this stage, no visible trace would have been discernable on the plate, and so, it was necessary to submerge it into another bath of chemicals. When the image was finally revealed, the plate was placed into a protective case as both air and the touch of fingers threatened to unsettle the object’s delicate chemical balance. For more information on the Daguerrean process see Michel Frizot, A New History of Photography (Köln: Könemann, 1998), 24; Walter Benjamin, “A Short History of Photography,” in Alan Trachtenberg, ed., Classic Essays on Photography (New Haven: Leete’s Island Book, 1980), 201.
• 4Geoffrey Batchen, “Vernacular Photographies,” in History of Photography 24:3 (2000), 263.
• 5All daguerreotypes, by nature of their medium, had to be protected by a case; as stated by Geoffrey Batchen: “dependent on the light sensitivity of a silvered sheet of copper, the daguerreotype image was too delicate and unstable to be touched directly. It was therefore covered by a glass sheet and then packaged in a silk- or velvet-lined leather case like a precious jewel.” Batchen, “Vernacular Photographies,” 263.
• 6Georg Simmel, The Philosophy of Money (New York: Routledge, 2011), 60; Alfred Gell, “The Technology of Enchantment and the Enchantment of Technology,” in Jeremy Coote and Anthony Shelton, eds.; Anthropology, Art, and Aesthetics (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1992), 40.
• 7Patrick J. Geary, “Sacred Commodities: The Circulation of Medieval Relics,” in Arjun Appadurai, ed., The Social Life of Things (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1986), 169.
• 8“The Capitalists of Troy,” Troy Daily Times, April 29, 1867; “Important Patent Suit Determined–The Rights of Photographers–How a Trojan Fought and Conquered a Boston Firm,” Troy Daily Times, February 9, 1871.
• 9J. Hillman, “Dividend,” Troy Daily Times, October 25, 1865. ; [Christopher C. Schoonmaker], “Limited Partnership,” Troy Daily Times, April 1, 1867; “City Notes,” Troy Daily Times, January 28, 1871.
• 10[Christopher C. Schoonmaker], “Business Dissolution,” Troy Daily Times, March 14, 1873.
• 11“Business Directory: Jewelry Stores,” Troy Daily Times, December 31, 1855; “Custom Boots and Shoes,”Troy Daily Times, August 3, 1866.
• 12“Business Directory: Daguerrean Artists,” Troy Daily Times, December 31, 1855; “L.C. Everett Has Returned,” Troy Daily Times, March 3, 1866.
• 13Alexander Lyman Holley, The Albany and Rensselaer Iron and Steel Works, Troy, New York (London: Offices of Engineering, 1881), 5.
• 14Diana S. Waite, The Architecture of Downtown Troy: An Illustrated History (Albany: Rensselaer County Historical Society, 2019), 61.
• 15[Schoonmaker], “Get the Best When It Costs No More.”
• 16Writing contemporaneously to the invention of the daguerreotype in 1839, the French physicist, mathematician, and astronomer Dominique François Arago’s Report aptly captures the general emotions felt in the early years of this innovation. Arago writes: “this invention recently made public by M. Daguerre in this circle and elsewhere has been keen, enthusiastic, and unanimous;” and elsewhere Arago praises the innovative prints for “their purity, their brilliancy, or their harmony.” See Dominique François Arago, “Report,” in Classic Essays on Photography, in Alan Trachtenberg and Amy Weinstein Meyers, eds. (New Haven: Leete’s Island Books, 1980), 15, 17.
• 17George Gilbert, Photography: The Early Years (New York: Harper & Row, 1980), 42, 55.
• 18Joan L. Severa, Dressed for the Photographer: Ordinary Americans and Fashion 1840-1900 (Kent: Kent State University Press, 1995), 85.
• 19Jennifer Elizabeth Anne Rudd, “Posing, Candor, and the Realisms of Photographic Portraiture, 1839-1945,” PhD diss., (New York: Columbia University, 2014), 20.
• 20Given the novelty and difficulty of the earliest Daguerrean processes, the images created at the outset of this invention were much more expensive than they would become in the 1850s. In turn, the earliest daguerreotypes were typically commissioned by wealthy patrons, and amongst them celebrities, politicians, and well-known elite. These images formed a genre of early American portraiture and this genre was used by photographers to promote the new photographic processes. Therefore, celebrity portraits were widely visible across the United States. See Barbara McCandless, “The Portrait Studio and the Celebrity: Promoting the Art,” in Martha A. Sandweiss, ed., Photography in Nineteenth Century America (Fort Worth: Amon Carter Museum of Western Art, 1991), 48–67.
• 21For general observations on the American fashion of the 1850s see Severa, Dressed for the Photographer, 99–100.
• 22Those who sat for Daguerreotypes were encouraged to wear dark rather than light colors, as expressed in an 1855 advertisement by John Irving: “any dark colors preferred.” Irving, “First Four Premiums for the Best Daguerreotypes!,” Troy Daily Times, June 26, 1855.
• 23Severa, Dressed for the Photographer, 95.