Anastas Jovanović: Photographer of the New Slovak Political Representation

Petra Trnková

Abstract
This essay looks into the very beginnings of paper photography in the Austrian Empire. It focuses on two salted paper portraits of two most iconic figures of the Slovak National Revival in the mid-19th century, Ľudovít Štúr and Jozef M. Hurban. Created around 1849 by Anastas Jovanović, a Serbian photographer and lithographer based in Vienna, both portraits are the earliest paper photographs today preserved in Slovak collections. The article elucidates not only the salted paper prints’ authorship, origin, ownership and material characteristics, but also the notion of reproduction and circulation of images during the revolutionary years of 1848 and 1849 and by the advent of photography on paper in Central Europe at the same time. Special attention is paid to social and cultural contacts between Slovaks and Serbs around 1848 as a key factor to the photographs’ production.

Introduction

[1] Museum collections in the Slovak Republic hold two remarkable photographic incunabula which, until recently, have been neglected by art and photo historians, despite the fact that even at a glance they appear quite unique in the national context (Figs. 1, 2).¹

1 Anastas Jovanović, Jozef M. Hurban, 1849, hand-coloured salted paper print. Slovak National Library, Martin, Literary Archive, K 4a/158, LM MS 6785/1973 (photo: Slovak National Library)

2 Anastas Jovanović, Ľudovít Štúr, ca. 1849, hand-coloured salted paper print, 16.5 × 10.7 / 17 × 15 cm. Slovak National Museum – Ľudovít Štúr Museum, Modra, 12/81 (V-0647) (photo: Slovak National Museum – Ľudovít Štúr Museum)

They stand out not only with their content and age but also through the fact that they are situated at the very beginning of a long succession of iconic portraits of two major exponents of the Slovak National Revival movement of the mid-19th century, Jozef M. Hurban (1817–1888) and Ľudovít Štúr (1815–1856).²

[2] There are several reasons why these two photographs have long been overlooked. The main one seems to be the incorrect identification of the technology, especially in the case of the portrait of Ľudovít Štúr.³ This portrait was long considered not an original work, but a later reproduction of an unknown daguerreotype. This hypothesis was formulated by the prominent Slovak photo-historian Ľudovít Hlaváč in his seminal contribution to historiography, The History of Slovak Photography.⁴ Hlaváč arrived at this conclusion on the basis of a note on the photograph’s mounting written by Štúr’s youngest brother Ján (1827–1907): "[…] I had this photograph which is authentic […] made into a Cabinet picture. In Ráb in 1884. Brother Janko". Hlaváč’s other argument – however incomprehensible it might sound – was the small tonal scale, as well as the manner of mounting which, in his opinion, was typical of daguerreotypes.⁵ Had Hlaváč also known Hurban’s portrait, he probably would have interpreted it similarly, and not only because of its remarkably similar design. The photographs are now held by two different institutions, the Slovak National Library in Martin and the Ľudovít Štúr Museum in Modra which acquired them from two different owners, yet they are very close in many respects. One can hardly ignore the similarities in the mounting, the arrangement of the sitters, the technical rendering, the degradation processes which have left distinct marks on both pictures and, after all, also the close personal relationship between Hurban and Štúr.⁶

[3] In fact neither of the portraits has anything to do with a daguerreotype, both are salted paper prints from paper negatives.⁷ Paper photographs from the 1840s and 1850s, especially the earliest specimens, are prone to fast and irreversible degradation and become pale, yet in contrast to daguerreotypes they have two major advantages: the image is easier to reproduce and easier to manipulate. To understand and reveal the process of the production and distribution of early paper photography, it is always good to presume that the particular photograph is not unique in the sense of irreproducibility, like a daguerreotype, but that it was created alongside other "almost identical copies". Besides, it is highly probable that the image we are looking at is a reproduction in the broadest sense of the word, made either by the photographer or later, and that it was manually modified in a certain phase. All these characteristics and the affinity of the two portraits in Slovak collections raise questions of the authorship, the purpose and the circumstances surrounding their origin and the arrival of paper photography in Central Europe. They also give rise to reflections on the recycling and circulation of the photographic image in the particular time and space – all the more so as these are portraits of the exponents of the Slovak National Revival movement preserved in memory institutions of national importance.

The first paper photographs in the Austrian Empire

[4] Like in the case of the daguerreotype, the beginnings of paper photography in the Austrian Empire are associated with Chancellor Prince Klemens W. L. Metternich-Winneburg (1773–1859),⁸ who started to take an interest in this invention, specifically the photogenic drawing by the English polymath William Henry Fox Talbot (1800–1877), shortly after its publication in 1839. He did so through his emissary in London, Philippe Roger Franz Neumann (1781–1851). With his help, and with the assistance from the photographer’s mother, Elisabeth Feilding (1773–1846), and uncle William T. H. Fox Strangways (1795–1865), Metternich managed, in the course of four years, to obtain for his collection at least forty works by Talbot. The whole collection, later known as Album Metternich, contained a wide spectrum of images, from simple photogenic drawings of botanical samples to calotype portraits and landscapes. These were probably Talbot's first works to find their way to Vienna, the centre of photography in the Habsburg monarchy, in the early 1840s.⁹ However, from the perspective of the further development of photography in the Austrian Empire, specimens that were probably more important included those which Metternich later commissioned not for himself but for Viennese institutions, first for the Academy of Fine Arts and later, in 1844, for the Polytechnic Institution.¹⁰ It was through these institutions and their members that a large number of other photography enthusiasts in Central Europe including artists, natural scientists and entrepreneurs got acquainted with Talbot’s invention.

[5] It is worthy of note that these deliveries in the first years did not exactly arouse the interest of local pioneers of photography who were otherwise very successful in daguerreotyping. The situation changed significantly in 1846. Three men are credited with this: two travelling photographers Sigismund Gerothwohl (1808–1889?) and Edwin (?) Tanner (active in the 1840s–1880s), and Anton Martin (1812–1882), the librarian of the Polytechnic Institution, who already was a renowned figure in the photographic scene in Vienna thanks to many successful daguerreotype experiments and publications on photography. Before 1846, most people were familiar with paper photography vaguely through written accounts published in newspapers and journals. Only wealthy people could actually view or even buy photographs on paper abroad, especially in France, England and in German cities. One of the relatively accessible places where paper photography entered the market quite early was Frankfurt, and a major part in this was played by the mentioned duo Gerothwohl & Tanner, who ran a successful commercial photographic studio there.¹¹ Gerothwohl later claimed, falsely, that they started to collaborate in 1840, but the studio did not open until 1844.¹² Their portraits soon became fashionable, which did not escape the attention of diplomats and tourists, including those from Vienna. At the invitation of one of them, an anonymous "emissary of the Austrian Assembly", the two turned up in Vienna in spring 1846, after they had closed their Frankfurt studio.¹³ In April they found accommodation near the Prater, began to take the first commissions and shortly afterwards opened a studio in the city centre. According to Gerothwohl, the majority of their clientele consisted, not surprisingly, of the members of the Austrian aristocracy.¹⁴ However, their work also attracted the interest of the members of the Niederösterreichischer Gewerbeverein who had devoted a great deal of attention to photography from the very beginning.¹⁵ Although the Gerothwohl & Tanner venture found success with people in Vienna, the owners decided to move on for the next season and sold the studio to the painter Georg Koberwein (1820–1876) who picked up the threads of the pair’s commercial success.¹⁶

[6] While the production of the Gerothwohl & Tanner studio contributed to the popularization of paper photography among the lay public, as well as to the development of the local market, the serious interest of potential practitioners, both professional and amateur, was probably only awakened by the work of the mentioned Anton Martin. Apart from public presentations and newspaper articles, enthusiasts were most captivated by his practical manual Repertorium der Photographie, first published in early October 1846.¹⁷ It informed in detail about Talbot’s original calotype and salted-paper processes, as well as about the experiments of other inventors, for example, the methods of Hippolyte Bayard (1801–1887), Edmond Becquerel (1820–1891), John Herschel (1792–1871) and Franz von Kobell (1803–1882).¹⁸ In addition, the author devoted about thirty pages of text to the description of his own experiments and refinements.¹⁹ The book, which was written as the first comprehensive manual for the production of photographs on paper in German, was rightly well received throughout the photographic scene, and saw several updated reprints in the following two decades.

[7] According to the preserved photographs, adverts and responses in the period press, it can be assumed that the production of paper photography in the Austrian Empire started to grow steadily in 1847. Alongside the daguerreotypists who thoughtfully expanded their services offering both methods, such as Albin Mutterer in Vienna (1826–1873) and Marcus N. Lobethal (1810–1890) and Josef Krtička in Prague (1814–?), the first specialists emerged. In many cases these were miniaturists, watercolourists and graphic artists who successfully combined their artistic skills with the new, modern technique and became serious competitors for both the scientists who practised photography and the professional photographers who stayed with the proven but awkward daguerreotype. One of them was the painter and lithographer Anastas Jovanović (1817–1899) – the man behind the two salted-paper portraits of Jozef M. Hurban and Ľudovít Štúr.

Anastas Jovanović – lithographer, painter and photographer

[8] The Vienna artist of Serbian origin Anastas Jovanović is mentioned in a large number of publications devoted to Štúr and Hurban, but usually only in connection with two lithographic portraits which he made in the workshop of Johann Rauh (1803–1863) in 1848 and 1849 (Fig. 3).²⁰

3 Anastas Jovanović and Johann Rauh, Jozef M. Hurban, 1849, lithograph from a salted paper print. Österreichische Nationalbibliothek, Vienna, PORT_00093447_01 (photo: ÖNB)

Jovanović’s photographic career is almost exclusively the domain of Serbian researchers in the context of the nationally focused history of Serbian photography, despite the fact that a significant part of it is closely linked to Vienna and, as we shall see, extends to other regions of the monarchy as well.²¹

[9] Jovanović lived in the Austrian metropolis largely from the late 1830s until the late 1850s. He started his career in Belgrade as a typesetter, but thanks to a scholarship from the Serbian ruler Prince Miloš Obrenović (1780–1860) was able to enroll at the Vienna Academy of Fine Arts in 1838, in the class of Karl H. Rahl (1779–1843), where he studied copperplate engraving. Later on, he was apprenticed as a lithographer under Johann Stadler (1804–1859) and in the mid-1840s he returned to the academy to study painting.²² The beginnings of his photographic efforts are sought in 1841 when he allegedly attempted to create a daguerreotype portrait of Miloš’s son and successor Michael Obrenović (1823–1868), yet without much success.²³ He was more successful with paper photography which he took up in 1847 or 1848. Later he also worked with collodion negatives, albumen paper and stereo photography. At the end of the 1850s, after the return of the Obrenović dynasty on the Serbian throne, Jovanović went back to Belgrade where the ruler, Prince Michael, put him in charge of the administration of the court. After the prince’s sudden death in 1868 the artist left for Vienna and started to pursue photography more intensely.²⁴

[10] Photography became an integral part of Jovanović’s repertoire in the late 1840s, as confirmed by the hundreds of positives and negatives preserved in large part in several collections in Belgrade and Novi Sad;²⁵ nonetheless, he mainly considered himself a lithographer.²⁶ Many of his photographs served as underdrawings of portrait miniatures, others as models for lithographic portraits. A large proportion of the existing corpus was probably from the start connected to the artist’s romantic vision of a picture gallery of prominent figures of the Serbian past and present that Jovanović planned to publish.²⁷ It is not surprising that one finds among the portrayed not only the artist’s benefactor Michael Obrenović but also numerous luminaries of science and culture, for example, the historian and reformer of the Serbian language Vuk Karadžić (1787–1864) and the writers Peter II Petrović-Njegoš (1813–1851) and Ljubomir Nenadović (1826–1895).

[11] Although the portrait of Jozef M. Hurban from the collection of the Literary Archive of the Slovak National Library in Martin is not signed, the presumption that it is Jovanović’s work, originally formulated on the basis of its similarity with the known lithograph mentioned above (Fig. 3), is verified by the recently discovered duplicates that have survived in the artist’s estate in the Belgrade City Museum (Figs. 4-6).²⁸

4-6 Anastas Jovanović, Jozef M. Hurban, 1849, salted paper prints. Belgrade City Museum, AJ 1014, AJ 1015 and AJ 1020 (photo: Belgrade City Museum)

[12] In contrast to the Martin version, these three specimens with their imperfections, especially the artist’s fingerprints and stains caused by inaccurate handling of light-sensitive emulsion, look more like semi-finished products or early experiments than the work of an efficient professional. The fact that it was not a commercial commission or the outcome of a random encounter is indicated by further portraits of Slovaks and Hurban’s fellow fighters identified in this collection: two specimens of a portrait of the writer and politician Ján Francisci and a hand-coloured portrait of another protagonist of the Slovak national revival movement, Michal M. Hodža (Figs. 7, 8).

7 Anastas Jovanović, Ján Francisci, ca. 1850, salted paper print. Belgrade City Museum, AJ 1041 (photo: Belgrade City Museum)

8 Anastas Jovanović, Michal Miloslav Hodža, ca. 1850, hand-coloured salted paper print. Belgrade City Museum, AJ 614 (photo: Belgrade City Museum)

[13] Like the portraits of Štúr and Hurban, these too became the archetypes for what are today probably the best-known representations of the two men. A duplicate of Štúr’s portrait that could confirm Jovanović’s authorship, as in the case of Hurban, is yet to be found.²⁹ However, due to the similarities between all these portraits and other circumstances, Anastas Jovanović’s authorship can be hardly disputed.

Slovaks and Serbs

[14] The determination of the authorship of the portraits of Jozef M. Hurban and Ľudovít Štúr is valuable not only for the attribution as such, but also for the fact that it sheds light on the broader context of the origin of the two photographs, exceeding the borders of both present-day Slovakia and the history of photography. Jovanović’s involvement was no coincidence. There were not many specialists in paper photography active in the Habsburg monarchy around 1849, yet Jovanović was not the only one, nor even the most skilful, to whom clients could turn. Nonetheless, Hurban and his friends decided to have their photographs taken in Jovanović’s studio at 6 Taborstraße in Vienna, with the use of the latest method.

[15] In Štúr’s case, a reason could be sought in his recent experience with Jovanović as a lithographer,³⁰ but their close personal ties appear to be a much stronger motivation. These ties are illustrated by Štúr’s letter of 17 March 1848, written in Serbian, interestingly with Latin script.³¹ Štúr addresses the recipient as "Dear friend", and what is more, with a highly confidential pledge regarding the participation of the Viennese Serbs and other southern Slavs in the revolution that was just breaking out at that time, in an effort to coordinate with them the plans of Slovaks in Upper Hungary. Both political wings had a common goal for a long time – to free their countries from Hungarian oppression, or at least to achieve autonomy within the Austrian Empire. Furthermore, both men had the same friends and respected the same authorities, not only in politics but also in science, notably Slavic studies and history, for example, the mentioned Vuk Karadžić (Fig. 9),³² the first Serbian patriarch Josif Rajačić³³ and Prince Michael Obrenović (Fig. 10).³⁴

9 Anastas Jovanović, Vuk Karadžić, ca. 1850, paper negative (digitally reversed). Belgrade City Museum, AJ 509 (photo: Belgrade City Museum)

10 Anastas Jovanović, Michael Obrenović, ca. 1850, salted paper print. Belgrade City Museum, AJ 927 (photo: Belgrade City Museum)

[16] The extent of Štúr’s respect for Obrenović, incidentally the principal benefactor of the Štúr circle, is well documented by an article signed L. Š. in the magazine Slovenské pohľady in 1852, the major part of which is a translation of selected passages from a book about the Obrenović dynasty.³⁵ The extracts inserted in the original text by Štúr convey "deep respect" for the princes and the Serbian nation. The author particularly valued the Serbians’ decisive mind, determination and persistence and considered them to be one of the "most excellent Slavic tribes [sic], manifesting in its domestic, social and public life that it has preserved what is the purest best of all our western and southern tribes", and which in "recent times and events has proven to be most cordial and brotherly to its much less capable Slovak brothers".³⁶ In turn, Štúr was held in high esteem by Serbs, which is reflected, for example, in his title of a plenipotentiary of the Matica Srbska association in Bratislava and his membership in the Society of Serbian Literature (Društvo srpske slovesnosti) in Belgrade. The close ties between Serbian and Slovak nationalists went back into history and were fostered mainly by several Upper-Hungarian educational institutions, especially the Lutheran Lyceum in Bratislava. Štúr himself studied and later taught at this school and met there many of his future political allies, such as Đuro Daničić (1825–1882) and Svetozar Miletić (1826–1901); incidentally, the latter was the one who in March 1848 secretly delivered Štúr’s letter to Jovanović in Vienna, and after whom Hurban named his oldest son.³⁷ Jovanović maintained contact with both Slovaks even after the revolution and even as late as 1857, several years before he moved to Belgrade, he created on Hurban’s request an altarpiece for the Protestant church in Hlboké (western Slovakia) where Hurban was active at the time. Two more portraits of Hurban (one positive and two negatives) recently found in Jovanović’s estate in the Belgrade City Museum, must have originated in the course of the late 1850s (Fig. 11).

11 Anastas Jovanović, Jozef M. Hurban, 1850s, paper negative (digitally reversed). Belgrade City Museum, AJ 1271 (photo: Belgrade City Museum)

Portraits – lithographs – photographs

[17] When discussing the photographic portraits of two main protagonists of the new political representation of the Slovaks in the late 1840s, which sooner or later started to circulate in public space in the form of lithographs (Figs. 3, 12), one can hardly avoid reflecting on their purpose, commissioner and the response they met with.³⁸

12 František Kolář and Reiffenstein & Rösch, Ľudovít Štúr, 1861, lithograph from a salted paper print, 49.5 × 32.7 / 51 × 33 cm. Bratislava City Gallery, C 8537 (photo in high resolution available at https://www.webumenia.sk/dielo/SVK:GMB.C_8537)

Were both photographs created at the request of the portrayed? Or were they initiated by the photographer or commissioned by a third party? And did the artist create them as autonomous portraits of his friends or as aide-mémoires, with the intention of making lithographic reproductions?

[18] The revolutionary events of 1848–1849 were reflected in all areas of visual culture, photography included, and like in other military conflicts, an important part was played by portraits. The European continent was then literally flooded with portraits, caricatures and other images of representatives of governments, local authorities, the army as well as the opposition, mainly in the form of lithographic loose prints and newspaper woodcut illustrations. The underlying motive of the artists, photographers and publishers was twofold, political and pragmatic. In the turbulent times of revolutionary events, people increasingly felt the need to orientate themselves in the multitude of new politicians, spokesmen, commanders or even victims of street fights, and being able to recognize a particular face (not just a name) made this considerably easier. It was to the benefit of both the portrayed and the portraitists and publishers, as documented by a statement of the editor of the famous picture weekly L’Illustration printed on the first page of the very first issue:

La Biographie nous offre une large scène. Nous voulons qu’avant peu il n’y ait pas en Europe un seul personnage, ministre, orateur, poète, général, d’un nom capable, à quelque titre que ce soit, de retentir dans le public, qui n’ait payé à notre journal le tribut de son portrait. Qui ne sait que l’on comprend mieux le langage et les actions d’un homme quand on a vu ses traits?³⁹

Booming production of graphic portraits of the exponents of politics, science and culture can be observed from the 1830s onwards, fuelled not only by the public’s interest but also by the increasing number of lithographic workshops. Some of the portrait series were even initiated or conceived by the artists or publishers.⁴⁰ The flourishing of lithography and the changes in society were accompanied by the growing interest in portraits of successful and famous people whom the public only knew from newspaper articles. The interest in these portraits spread among institutions, associations and individuals, provided their financial situation allowed them to build up their own portrait gallery of their favourite luminaries. Jozef M. Hurban was one of them; in the early 1840s his collection included for example the lithographic portraits of the Czech scientist Jan S. Presl, the philologist Pavel J. Šafařík, the Croatian linguist Ljudevít Gaj and the Serbian writer Lukijan Mušický.⁴¹

[19] With the events of 1848 and 1849, the demand for representations of famous figures grew, and graphic artists and draughtsmen employed photographic models more and more often. Unfortunately for us, this fact is rarely confirmed by the unambiguous inscription "from a photograph".⁴² Some publishers gave much more vague formulations like "from a faithful model", but in most cases there are no direct references to photographic templates at all. There were several reasons for this: either the information about the photographic origin of a portrait had been lost in the course of reproducing reproductions; or artists intended to create the impression that they had worked alla prima; or else the reason simply lay in the fact that lithography frequently became a "logical extension" of photography (especially in the case of the daguerreotype), just like photography turned into an integral part of the production of graphic portraits.⁴³

An imagined community

[20] It cannot be determined with certainty who initiated the portraits of Hurban and Štúr, or what their primary purpose was, as there are no relevant sources. According to their provenance records, the two salted paper prints, now in Slovak national collections, had long been private, family relics whose uniqueness was enhanced by the mounting in red velvet frames and embossed leather cases. In contrast, the three specimens of Hurban’s portrait in the artist’s estate in the Belgrade City Museum obviously remained semi-finished products or models for the exceptionally popular lithographic portrait. In any case, Jovanović’s portraits soon became the central visual supports for the long-lasting cult of Hurban and Štúr. Moreover, these photographs became instruments for creating an imagined community: firstly, that of Slovaks themselves, and secondly, of Slovaks and Serbs as two very close Slavic tribes. The role of modern communication technologies in the process of shaping this kind of human imagination, or conceptions of a nation, was already pointed out by Benedict Anderson.⁴⁴ Four hundred years after the introduction of the movable-type printing press in Europe to which Anderson refers, this role was taken over by lithography together with photography, which is well illustrated by the portraits of the new Slovak representation – not only of Štúr and Hurban but also of Hodža and Francisci. They represent the archetypes of what are up to now the best-known images of these key members of the Slovak national pantheon.

[21] Although those who remembered the events of 1848 and 1849 tried to preserve and pass on their memories of this momentous period not only through written documents but also through numerous visual artefacts including photographs, modern historiography of European photography has paid little attention to this era. A few case studies are usually mentioned, among which those on the Paris daguerreotypes by Charles François Thibault (dates unknown)⁴⁵ and the portrait series of the deputies of the Frankfurt National Assembly by Hermann Biow (1804–1850) and Jacob Seib (1812–1883) stand out.⁴⁶ This gives the impression that the wave of revolution that swept across continental Europe in the mid-19th century did not quite touch photography. However, many photographs of the time or their reproductions such as the portraits of Hurban and Štúr are evidence to the contrary. In the context of the Slovak history of photography, this discrepancy is even more striking because almost all preserved photographic incunabula – daguerreotypes as well as paper photographs – are associated specifically with this revolutionary period. With regard to the original portraits from Anastas Jovanović’s studio, one more aspect is remarkable: despite the fact that the portraits of Štúr and Hurban (and since recently also those of Hodža and Francisci) are hailed as the oldest Slovak photographs and have the aura of national cultural heritage, in the context of Jovanović’s estate they also make up an inseparable part of Serbian, Austrian and thus European history of photography.

Acknowledgements
I wish to thank the two readers who gave their valuable time to review this article. This study was kindly supported by the Czech Science Foundation (grant no. 17-00682S).

Reviewers
Anonymous

Local Editor
Vendula Hnídková, Institute of Art History, Czech Academy of Sciences, Prague

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