Via Flickr:
Ca.1900 albumen print, half-stereoview crop. By an unknown 3-D photographer who was in China during the Boxer Rebellion, who also traveled in Japan and the Philippines making stereoviews wherever he went.

In bad shape, and gaudily colored by the Kilburn View Company in New Hampshire.

I think I have a better copy somewhere, If I find it, I’ll replace the image. In the meantime, these cutie-pies will hold this spot on the photostream.


THE RESORT VILLAGE OF HAKONE ON LAKE ASHI in OLD JAPAN – Late 19th Century by Okinawa Soba (Rob).

hystericblue replied to your post “cattraine replied to your photoset “Preparing for mum’s ultimate…”

WHY would anyone leave egg whites at room temperature for six WEEKS?! And then go, “I bet these would go good in gingerbread”. Would it taste better if the eggs are bad? Did they want to feel what emptying their stomach feels like? Do tell us if you end up getting your stomach pumped Sam.

Okay so I can only repeat what he said, which is that egg whites are designed to protect the yolk, and thus…well, nothing much gets into or past them.

The idea of leaving egg whites out at room temperature is that it slowly evaporates water out of the albumen and concentrates the…eggyness of the whites. You can’t have any yolk in them obviously, but the whites themselves apparently do fine as long as you don’t leave them in direct sunlight. He says he puts them in a bowl, covers it with plastic, pokes a few holes in the plastic for water to evaporate through, and leaves them be. Apparently in pastry it’s very standard, which explains why I find meringues so easy, because I always leave the egg whites out to come to room temperature while I’m making lemon curd with the yolks.

Mum reacted much as all of you did. Then she saw my CHALLENGE ACCEPTED face and sighed.

So we come to our mooring place. Formulaic as ancient songs and as withered. A melody darker and older than the mountains pressed sternly against bloody horizon. Stench of sixteen day old death. A war was fought here, she says, bending knee to red soil and rising. Soot-black boughs brood above us, nursing sap wounds lazy spears had penetrated. I labor out of my dreams, out of anything. No trace of hope left, crowned in oakleaves. Sickly pale like albumen.

This season has need of me yet. Staying is nowhere. Scorn me if scorn is what comforts you.  

Hannah Susan Macdowell With The Crowell Children, In Avondale, Pennsylvania
Thomas Eakins, American, 1844-1916
albumen print from glass negative?

Chrysler Museum