I like the harsh content of old photographs. There's often a truth to them that all the careful curating of our soppy era cannot obfuscate. Things are as they are, not as some wish they might have been. Lovers stare without smiles. The hands charred by hard work and harsh soil are seen sharp. The child in the coffin is dead. What you see is what they had. What you see is what we've lost.
Neat little article. I know the museum. I went to it once, but it obviously didn't make such a big impression on me since I haven't ever been back. (Via Insty)