Why didn’t the mothers simply pose with their children? According to Linda Fregni Nagler, editor of The Hidden Mother, a new book that collects 1,002 photographs (from daguerrotypes to cartes de visite, and cabinet cards) in which a mother is hiding somewhere in the portrait of her progeny,
it reflects one of the core instincts of motherhood: to deny oneself in deference to the child. In the case of the photographs compiled in The Hidden Mother, Nagler notes that mothers have often opted to hide themselves in order to immortalize a child who might not live to be the subject of another photo, owing to the high infant mortality rates of the period.
These days, everybody has a headshot. If you don’t know what you’re doing with your eyes, your mouth, or your jaw to make sure that yours look their best, portrait photographer Peter Hurley is here to instruct you.
In the book Our Beautiful, Fragile World, photojournalist Peter Essick takes us on a tour of the world’s altered landscapes, from an eroded hillside in Joshua Tree National Park to an oil sands mining operation in Alberta, Canada’s boreal forest. “Our natural world is constantly changing,” writes Essick. “What is different among landscapes is the rate and degree of change. After viewing the images, it’s impossible not to wonder: how can we do better?”
Pregnant couples sleep differently. Not only is a woman instructed not to sleep on her back, she’s forced to negotiate aching, snoring, indigestion, gratuitous breasts, and a giant belly. And as a man in bed, you’re constantly aware of that belly—so you don’t fight for covers as much, and you’re always careful when you flip. You sleep so much worse and more clumsily, but also so much more tenderly than ever before.