Frozen Dramas Early Austrian Photographer Mayer Raised People-Watching to Art Form by Vanessa LaFaso People-watching is one of the great human pastimes. We are fascinated by each other’s individual routines, and we enjoy observing them from a distance. Emil Mayer turned people-watching into an art form. His photographs of everyday life in Vienna streets during the 1900s can now be seen on the walls of the Austrian Embassy in the first-ever U.S. exhibition of his works. Born in 1871, Mayer is considered one of the first true street photographers in history, yet his name is not widely known outside of Austria. Mayer was a Jewish citizen during World War II who committed suicide shortly after the Nazi occupation of Austria in 1938. It was presumed that the Gestapo had destroyed most of his original prints after his death. As a result, few people were aware that his photographs ever existed. However, over the last 30 years, a large number of Mayer’s original prints have been located. Edward Rosser, a photo historian and curator of the Austrian Embassy exhibit, compiled Mayer’s work into a book titled “Viennese Types.” Mayer’s photographs are still images of untold tales in individual life stories. When we engage in people-watching, our minds conjure up stories of what we imagine a particular person is like, where they are going, and why. Mayer not only captures these little moments of daily life, but also features them in a backdrop that teems with clues to feed our imaginations. There is the high-society woman with an ostentatious hat fiddling with what appears to be a wallet. She sits back in her chair uncomfortably as the man across from her leans in, holding onto his glass for dear life. Has the man had too much to drink? Is she eager to pay the tab and escape his company? There is also the merchant woman wearing a tightly tied babushka and weighing goods, yet her customer does not seem concerned about the uneven scale. There is a disturbing image of an emaciated horse, collapsed on the street as various individuals approach the scene. Is the woman kneeling next to it responsible for the horse’s demise? Will the bemused cop standing in the background offer his help? These are just a few of the dramas of which Mayer gives us only the setting. This setting, however, is important. The many details Mayer includes in the backdrop of his portraits give viewers a sense of the multi-ethnic and socio-economic tiers of 1910 Austria. He does not limit his subjects to the bourgeoisie or the beggar. Instead, Mayer seemed to enjoy juxtaposing as many elements of Viennese society as he could into a single frame. Often, these elements would be playfully ironic or oddly disconnected. “The Lunch,” for example, is a depiction of a woman selling flowers as she hungrily eats from a can. We assume this woman has little, yet she is placed in the context of abundance. A large tray overflowing with flowers is attached to her waist. Her face is weathered and tired yet the flowers are fresh and vibrant. She is bundled up as she eats warm soup in the biting cold. Similarly, “Opening of the Puppet Show” is a delightful shot of several children sitting on a bench. They are wide-eyed and sit eagerly at the edge of their seats as they smile up at what we imagine is a stage. Upon closer scrutiny, however, we notice that one child is sitting back in her seat staring vacantly ahead, with one eye turned slightly inward. Her lack of expression suggests that the child is blind. The most unique aspect of Mayer’s work, however, is his process. Mayer was considered one of the forefathers of a photographic technique called the “bromoil process.” The images are developed in greasy ink onto a gelatin processed with potassium dichromate. Shadows and contrast in the image are tanned and absorb water following an extensive washing. The artist then restores the image by hand with an inking implement. The resulting image resembles an etching or lithograph. The bromoil process is explained via essays written by various poets, critics and historians, which provide eloquently written insight into Mayer’s subjects. As many essayists note, all of Mayer’s portraits favor the subject of immersion. He enjoyed capturing moments when people were engaged in some simple activity or task. Yet, some of the unusual compositions, such as the scene with the fallen horse, cause us to ask, as Rosser queries in one essay: “Do such moments occur before us every day?” Awaiting transportation, window shopping, waiting in line—all of these seem like uninteresting facets of our daily lives. That is, until they are freeze-framed out of context, out of familiar places and eras—and suddenly, we understand why we humans are so intriguing to observe. “Emil Mayer: An Intimate Master of Photography” runs through Sept. 4 at the Embassy of Austria, 3524 International Court NW. For more information, please call (202) 895-6776 or visit www.austria.org. Vanessa LaFaso is an editorial intern for The Washington Diplomat.