Thomas Lin’s art is rooted in his interest in establishing a dialogue between historical narratives and photography. His works have been showcased in cities such as Hong Kong, Pomona, Vancouver, Taipei, and Beijing, and are included in both private and public collections, notably the Hong Kong Heritage Museum. Alongside his artistic pursuits, he is dedicated to imparting his broad technical and conceptual knowledge at universities and high schools, covering traditional, alternative, and digital photography.

I am interested in two stories that occurred around 1839, both at a historical crossroads: the invention of photography and the birth of Hong Kong. This interest stems from my fascination with historical photographs of Hong Kong, which closely resemble the earliest forms of photography and depict the city’s early views. These photographs represent the intersection of two historical beginnings. Historical photographs are not merely records of the past; they accumulate emotion over time.

It is said that curious Europeans were already visiting with cameras in hand when Hong Kong first opened to trade as a new colony. However, the oldest surviving photographs of Hong Kong date back only to 1858. This is largely because the photographic method available at the time, the daguerreotype, produced unique, fragile images that were impossible to replicate, making them highly susceptible to loss. Moreover, the first photographers in Hong Kong were not commercially successful; they primarily focused on portraits and showed little interest in the local scenery.

Another type of photograph, the calotype, along with the salt print method invented by British scientist Henry Fox Talbot, is believed to have never been used in Hong Kong. This technique allowed for infinite reproduction of photographs from paper negatives. The reasons for its lack of popularity were twofold: firstly, it was restricted by patent rights, and secondly, the images produced from paper negatives were not as refined as those from daguerreotypes. Although the calotype did not achieve commercial success, its reproducible nature and roughness were appreciated by some artists. Later photographers in Hong Kong generally employed newer techniques based on calotype principles, such as the wet or dry plate collodion processes for producing albumen prints.

When no photographs are available, our conception of Hong Kong’s early appearance relies mainly on fragmented descriptions found in literature. For instance, in 1841, the British Foreign Minister Lord Palmerston described Hong Kong as ‘a barren rock, hardly a house upon it’. This oft-quoted description, while subjective, evokes vivid imagery and invites boundless imagination regarding its historical context.

The development of photography has always been driven by new technologies that bring about new methods, which in turn lead to new subjects and fresh ideas. We are now witnessing the rise of artificial intelligence, ushering in a new era in imaging technology and placing photography at another crossroads in its history. I try to blend contemporary technologies with the earliest photographic techniques, drawing on fragments from the puzzle of history to uncover insights hidden within collective ideas amid the vast ocean of data, and let these insights ‘”reappear’” by giving them forms that coincide with that time. It feels like going back in time to rediscover a promising small island on a map, when photography was still simply a personal endeavour under the sun.