"We photographed very well, he and I," Biffy said, clearly allowing vanity to rush forward and overtake sadness. He put on the appropriately silly and flirtatious look to complete the picture.
Nodding, he thought back to the cameras of his own time. Photography had made leaps and bounds by his own time. A Mr. Maddox had just made photography easier than ever in the 1870's but Biffy realized now that it was still an art barely out of the cradle compared to photography as it was now. "In my time, we had to use glass plates for every shot and we had to stand in front of the camera for what felt like a frightfully long time."
He smiled, recalling a photograph he'd seen in a book where a mother sat perfectly still, crisply captured, while the baby in her arms was little more than a blur.
Seeing the sadness in her face, Biffy reached out to take Greta's hand again. "There are many artists in this city. I know of one, Grantaire, who is more than a fair hand at painting and drawing. If you'd like."
no subject
Nodding, he thought back to the cameras of his own time. Photography had made leaps and bounds by his own time. A Mr. Maddox had just made photography easier than ever in the 1870's but Biffy realized now that it was still an art barely out of the cradle compared to photography as it was now. "In my time, we had to use glass plates for every shot and we had to stand in front of the camera for what felt like a frightfully long time."
He smiled, recalling a photograph he'd seen in a book where a mother sat perfectly still, crisply captured, while the baby in her arms was little more than a blur.
Seeing the sadness in her face, Biffy reached out to take Greta's hand again. "There are many artists in this city. I know of one, Grantaire, who is more than a fair hand at painting and drawing. If you'd like."