Photography at the fair: From spectacle to souvenir

The photography barracks that first appeared at fairs from 1860 soon became one of the most visited attractions. They offered various techniques, such as ferrotyping, an early form of instant photography in which the image appeared directly as a positive on a metal plate. Although these early photographs were prone to rust and fading, their appeal was enormous. Photographers displayed their finest works on the facades of their barracks to tempt customers. Historical records show that the number of photographers present at the bigger fairs increased dramatically throughout the century. In Ghent, in the late nineteenth century, the city council granted licences to only eight photographers, while many more were active. Competition drove up the prices for stalls and forced photographers to stand out with new techniques and creative settings.

While the urban elite had their portraits taken in permanent studios, itinerant photographers offered an affordable alternative. In this way, they contributed to the democratization of the medium. The ferrotypes (or tintypes) are also called 'the photography of the poor' because they were cheaper than instant photos on glass. For people from out of town who only sporadically left their villages, the fair offered a great opportunity to have a portrait taken. For many, it was the first and only time they had their picture taken. An English correspondent wrote in 1898 that after a ride on the horse mill, the photo booth was always the next stop. Not only workers and peasants, but also factory girls in their Sunday clothes liked to be immortalized on a photograph.

Fairground photographers did not sit idle, as is shown by the story of J.J. Jacoby (also known as Jacobi, Jacobij), who attended fairs in Belgium and the Netherlands with his photo camera. Besides photography, he also engaged in other fairground attractions, such as shooting games and gambling, but his photo tent was his greatest success. Just as many fairground attractions were passed down within families, Jacoby's business grew into a family business with divisions such as De Winter-Jacoby and Jacobi-Van der Helm. Eventually, 'Foto Jacobi' remained an established name in the Dutch province of Friesland for decades, where J.J.'s descendants continued the profession.

At a time when photography was still a mystery to the general public, the process and chemistry were at least as spectacular as the photograph. Scientific fairground theatres turned photography into an attraction in itself. Visitors could have their photo projected there in enlarged form, giving the experience an almost ghostly character. Stereophotography and viewing boxes brought three-dimensional images to life, while the magic lantern combined photography and moving images with narration, sound, and lighting. In this context, the fair was not only a place of entertainment, but also a gateway to the latest technological developments.

In 1875, a large camera obscura was installed on Ghent's 'foorplein' (fairground square), an optical instrument that demonstrated the basic principle of photographic imaging. Visitors could see with their own eyes how a lens, using sunlight, projected an image of the outside reality onto the dark inside of the tent. This technique, known to artists for centuries, still had a magic feel to it. A leaflet praised the attraction as a spectacle that would fascinate scientists, artists and ordinary visitors alike:

'You see, through a prism, how, on a white canvas, a miniature version of the world outside unfolds - the bustle in Ghent's Sint-Pieters Square, passers-by, carriages, dogs, horses... You see the leaves rustling and the clouds moving across the sky. In just a few square metres, an entire outside world is condensed.'

Initially, photography was a serious business. Visitors posed stately, with solemn faces, because photography was still strongly associated with painting and official portraiture. Photographs were seen as artistic and technical masterpieces and, above all, had to exude a contemplative character. Itinerant photographers tried to compete with their colleagues in fancy studios and emphasized the chemical and technical precision of their work in their posters, hoping to strengthen their reputation.

This style did not produce the most expressive images and was not appreciated by everyone. An 1887 newspaper article in Het Nieuws van den Dag even compared a disappointing painting to a fairground photograph: 'an insufferable stiffness, as if it were made after a fairground photographer's shooting'. The serious looks and stiff poses were not only a matter of fashion, but also of technique: the long exposure time forced the subjects to sit still for a long time, which resulted in an unnatural and tense pose.

From the 1920s, photography at the fair became more interactive and humorous. Photo boards and cut-outs offered visitors the chance to have themselves portrayed as cowboys, musicians, or exotic explorers. Photographers seized every opportunity to capture an unforgettable snapshot and used a variety of settings. Vehicles were particularly popular: Fairgoers could imagine themselves as pilots flying in a cardboard plane to the North Pole or drivers getting behind the wheel of a car. Serious photography made way for spontaneity and humour, although the quality of the pictures remained poor - above all, it had to be fast and affordable.

Fairground photographers long used the wet collodion process, a quick and cheap method that produced an instant positive image on a metal support. Although, subsequently, more modern techniques such as the dry plate also became available, many forains stuck to collodion because of its reliability and low cost. A journalist from the Journal de Gand wrote admiringly of these craftspeople in 1890:

'These virtuosos of collodion, working in their American photography tents - carved and gilded - the seven of them will diligently caress our self-image, promising a portrait "more beautiful than reality". May the sun be favourable to her most devoted pupils!'

This praise of light was no accident. Photography was seen as something mystical, a way to capture not only a person's appearance but also the soul of the person portrayed. The right light was essential. As long as electric lighting was not yet standard, photographers continued to rely on natural light. Some claimed their technique worked even in cloudy weather - a clever marketing trick to convince customers.

In the nineteenth century, the fairground photographer himself was an attraction, a craftsman who captured visitors in carefully staged portraits. The rise of affordable cameras in the twentieth century changed that. Families took their own photos of their children on the carousel, of loved ones under colourful lights, or of friends venturing into a new spectacular attraction. Fairground photos became a personal souvenir, as well as a document of the spirit of the times - a snapshot of a lively setting that disappeared again and again and reappeared elsewhere. For historians, these images offer a unique insight into the history of the fair as a temporary universe.

A more playful variant of fairground photography emerged in the 1920s with the tir photo. An accurate shooter won a photo as a prize and proof of his marksmanship. This type of photo/shooting booth remained a crowd favourite for decades. But like many fairground traditions, this attraction disappeared as photography became increasingly accessible.

By the end of the twentieth century, classic fairground photography largely disappeared, supplanted by digital cameras and later smartphones. Yet the essence remains: To this day, visitors still want to capture the fun of the fair, whether with a professional camera, a photo booth, or a selfie. They want to preserve the fleeting fairground experience - a world of wonder, momentarily stilled in an image.