Sulfite Crystals, Original Photograph by Ansel Adams
Consider the swirling, jagged layers of this image. What comes to mind? If your first thought is “what am I even looking at?” you’d be forgiven for not immediately recognizing crystalline sodium sulfite when you see it. But perhaps your second thought might be, “there’s no way this is an Ansel Adams.”
Despite his reputation as one of history’s greatest landscape photographers, devoted Adams collectors and historians know that his work also engaged meaningfully with abstraction. As a founding member of Group f/64, a collective of artists united by an interest in modernism, Ansel used innovative compositions to manipulate what we saw when we looked at the natural world around us. The result was photographs quite like this one—where a seemingly ordinary natural phenomenon can look like something alien and otherworldly. Though we might call this sort of work “abstract,” Ansel actually rejected the term, believing that it disconnected his work from the natural world. As Ansel put it, “I prefer the term ‘extract’ over ‘abstract,’ since I cannot change the optical realities but only manage them.”
Sulfite Crystals, As Presented by Ansel Adams
As an example of precisely what Ansel meant by “extract” photography, this image is superb. But that’s not the only reason why it’s special. Look beyond the chemical jargon in “sodium sulfite,” and you’ll see a rare peek behind the curtain, into Ansel’s darkroom. Ansel didn’t just happen upon a pool of crystalline sodium sulfite on one of his photographic expeditions. In fact, the solution of water and sodium sulfite was an essential step in one of his photographic passion projects—the development of Polaroid’s unique experimental films. For over thirty years of his career, Ansel helped Polaroid to develop new films, serving as an invaluable consultant as well as an avid user of their products. This image was made using Polaroid’s innovative P/55 film—a novel film that produced both a photographic negative and a tiny, nearly-instant “positive” image, surrounded on all sides by a white border. In other words, the first iteration of what we now simply call “a Polaroid.” In Ansel’s day, the process of separating the negative from its backing required soaking it in a sodium sulfite bath—the source of the crystals photographed above.
Ansel Adams almost never took self-portraits, preferring to turn his lens on the natural world. Perhaps it’s in a photographer’s nature to deliberately slip into the backdrop, letting the lens of their camera stand in for the eye of the artist. But in this undoubtedly “meta” image, a Polaroid picture of the telltale sign of Polaroids being developed, one cannot help but see Ansel’s signature sly sense of humor. It’s easy to imagine Ansel catching sight of the dried-out developer solution, noticing the other-worldly swirls of the sodium crystals, and laughing to himself at the perfect marriage of film and subject. Perhaps that’s why Ansel resisted abstraction so much—because even his most “abstract” images contain within them a gloriously personal, wonderfully human context.









