One of the main tenants of the Museum of Unexceptional Ephemera is that we discover who we are through the examination of crowds. This photo, long thought lost from our collection, provides the perfect illustration. Much like the Coprus Christi postcard of 1907, the photograph of the US Army Entering Vladivostok shows us what can be gained from close examination of the spectator—even as the photo’s supposed subject commands importance.

We ignore the soldiers marching down the thoroughfare (heroes that they are!), and the flanking column of Navy on the left, and civilians on the right. No, our subject is a group of individuals standing between the foot soldiers and the sailors. We may be inclined to think that the straw boater worn by the gentleman on the right is what should demand our attention, this vacationer amongst the liberators. We might also be inclined to draw an association with the aforementioned Corpus Christi postcard. 

Another man wears a fedora and a white coat. He wears a kind of shoulder strap. Comander? Politician? It’s doubtful. He does not have the military posture. No, he is more likely a journalist, the observer. We imagine a camera on his chest. As if he is capturing the moment, just as he is being captured, just as Vladivostok is being captured.

Whether they journalists or pleasure seekers, we are reminded of the visibility of the observer, that even when we watch, we too our watched. And even you, observer of this photo, is there not someone observing you?

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