Carol Hardijzer

The concept found photographs has become an accepted term amongst local photo historians and genealogists alike.

Found photographs encompass lost, unwanted, discarded, or unclaimed images in the form of both professional and amateur photographs (snapshots), as well as vintage prints, typically sourced from flea markets, charity stores, auctions, car boot sales or even recycling depots.

Today accepted as historical artifacts, these discarded nostalgic art objects are often used by researchers and historians to reconstruct a variety of historical narratives.

They represent a form of photographic archaeology, shifting the focus from the original, often unknown creator to the new curator's interpretation of the image's mystery, emotion, or aesthetic value.

The category of found photographs primarily under discussion in this article are those of relinquished photo salon or photo competition entries, mainly by amateur photographers.

Due to their size, salon entry photographs seem to be less likely to be destroyed compared to the omnipresent black and white snapshots. It would either be the photographer or family members, or even photographic clubs, that discarded these earlier proud salon submissions.

In tandem, this blended article not only presents some of these fairly contemporary found salon entry photographs (from 1950 to 2000), but also briefly reflects on the history of photographic clubs in South Africa as well as pre-1905 photo exhibitions, often combined with art exhibitions.

The article therefore subtly explores the historical influence of South African photographic exhibitions on modern salon entries.

Many of these larger format photographs, neatly mounted on hard board, contain...

Steel windmills – colloquially known as windpumps – stand scattered on South Africa’s rural landscape. 

Windpumps have become prominent features of the South African landscape, following their pivotal role in the country's development and the survival of rural communities (Walton, 1998). Their primary role is to pump underground water to the surface in regions where surface water is scarce.

They are found in their greatest numbers across the arid Karoo, the Free State, and parts of the Northern Cape. These metal structures played a decisive role in making large areas of the country habitable and farmable by providing a dependable supply of groundwater, at least those that survived.

By harnessing the wind to lift groundwater, farmers could sustain livestock, establish permanent homesteads, and expand agriculture into areas previously considered uninhabitable. In this way, steel windpumps reshaped settlement patterns and directly influenced the economic development of South Africa’s interior.

On a recent Northern Cape and Free State Road trip, I became obsessed with windpumps that have fallen into disuse – pumps that have not been maintained and therefore are no longer functional. Although fully functional pumps were mostly observed, the occasional perished sentinels spotted on our road trip spoke to me – they all fall into the category of industrial archaeology.

A forlorn sentinel standing...

Since its invention in 1839, photography has profoundly shaped modern society, becoming a central mode of everyday visual communication.

Photography emerged as part of a cluster of technical inventions and innovations (Wells, 1998), resulting in the camera, an instrument, a piece of hardware, having become omnipresent in our lives.  Understanding the concept of photography, however, is no simple matter (Traub, Heller & Bell, 2006).

A philosophical reflection on photography and memory invites us into deep territory—where time, identity, reality, and technology intersect. This article is an exploration of this theme, reflecting on the blended philosophy, art theory, and human psychology.

In support of this article, mainly South African photographs in origin, from between the 1900s and 1970s, are included to support the philosophical narrative. In each of the photographs, a photographer is seen holding or using a camera.

The word camera originates from the Latin phrase camera obscura, meaning dark room or dark chamber, referring to the darkened space where early optical experiments projected inverted images through a small hole. This Latin term itself originates from the Greek word kamara (vaulted chamber). The term was shortened to just camera for the photographic device in the 18th century, linking the physical dark room to the mechanical box that captured images, eventually becoming the word for modern photographic equipment.

Historical selfie. 1930s black and white...

This article deviates from my primary focus on South African photographic heritage in that the photographs presented here were all captured during 2025; yet the underlying theme, in my view, remains heritage-related.

Our country is scattered with abandoned and dysfunctional historical relics such as pre-1970s picnic spots, windmills, farm labour housing, farm stalls, cattle kraals, cement or corrugated iron dams and more. We take these for granted and hardly register their uniqueness as we rush to our destinations.

In conjunction with some philosophical text, this article contains abstract photographs captured whilst touring parts of South Africa on a motorbike – abstract photographs of domestic, farm, or pedestrian gates that lead to nowhere – gates of yore – gates that have fallen into disuse, yet, even in their decay, they hold a certain dignity.

My motorbiking friends got used to the fact that they would lose me somewhere on our journey, as I had spotted another gate of yore that had to be photographed, and that I would eventually catch up with them again.

A beautifully constructed pedestrian gate in disuse, just outside the village of Magaliesburg on the West Rand in Gauteng

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Located on the Mooi River, 120 km west-southwest of Johannesburg, the town of Potchefstroom was founded in 1838, one year before the invention of the photograph.

Colloquially referred to as Potch, the second-oldest European settlement in the Transvaal became the first capital of the Transvaal and remained the capital until displaced by Pretoria. In May 1860, Potchefstroom became the "chief city" of the republic, and the capital moved to Pretoria.

Originally carrying the names Mooirivier, Vryburg, Potschefstroom and Potscherfstroom (Haasbroek, 2024), several theories exist about the origin of the city's name. According to one theory, it originates from Potgieter + Chef + stroom (referring to Voortrekker leader and town founder Andries Potgieter; "chef" indicates the leader of the Voortrekkers, and "stroom" refers to the Mooi River).

Jenkins (1971 – from Wikipedia) stated: "Others, however, attribute the name as having come from the word 'Potscherf', meaning a shard of a broken pot, due to the cracks that appear in the soil of the Mooi River Valley during drought resembling a broken pot".

During the First Anglo-Boer War, the British garrison was besieged in Potchefstroom (December 1880 to March 1881), whilst they held the town during the Second Anglo-Boer War (1899–1902).

This article provides a synopsis of photographers who established themselves in Potchefstroom between the 1850s to 1920s. Some photographers settled in Potchefstroom, whilst others may briefly have visited the town, especially during the two Anglo-Boer Wars. Only photographers who have been confirmed to have resided in town are recorded.

Brief history...

The day following the publication of the Lorna Edna Nattrass article (click here to view), I was contacted by her grandson, Craig Nattrass.

Craig is the son of Stanhope Roy Nattrass (known as Roy), Lorna and Hal Nattrass’s youngest child. No photograph of Roy was included in the original article in that the file did not contain a photograph of him.

During our meeting, over a cup of coffee, Craig shared valuable insights into the Nattrass family history, including a number of early photograph albums, Lorna’s flight records, Hal’s poetry and their medals.

Hal Nattrass, in addition to being a poet, was also awarded an OBE. All Hal’s poems were neatly collated and presented into a single volume. In my view, some of these poems should be shared by the family in the future.

Of interest is that the family files shown to me also contained the same life story by Lorna as found in the file obtained at a car boot sale. The files in the Nattrass’s possession also contain a different version of Lorna’s live story in which she makes reference to, amongst other, the 1918 Spanish flue.

Notably, I was shown a historically significant photograph of Lorna Edna Nattrass captured at Witbank, featuring her among several Second World War female volunteers. On this photograph, Lorna is distinguished by the wings on her uniform.

I was pleased to return the file to the Nattrass family, who clearly value their family heritage. The file also contained a family tree...

This year marks the 100th anniversary of the photobooth (also known as a Foto Kiosk in Afrikaans). These analogue photobooths once became ubiquitous in cities around the world, commonly found in public spaces. Sadly, they have gradually faded away, largely replaced by digital event-hire services.

Were you a “boother”? If so, what are your memories? Did you behave formally, or did you attempt a creative or ridiculous pose whilst seated in the booth? Do you still have evidence of your interaction with these early analogue devices?

As a young man, I recall using a photobooth only once—at the Pretoria Railway Station in the late 1970s, while serving there as a national serviceman. During this time, teenagers were often seen enthusiastically engaging in silly antics inside the booth. Of course, their shenanigans weren’t immediately obvious, as the half-curtain was drawn. It was only once the machine spewed out the images that their antics became clear—followed by more giggling.

Although photobooths were initially intended for passport or identity photographs, they quickly became popular among young and old for producing fun, often silly imagery. Some of the antics captured in these booths, I’ve been told, left little to the imagination (read: risqué). The benefit was that the machine retained no evidence or photographic negative.

How much fun! Unknown granny with assumingly her two granddaughters - what...

A family file titled: Beadle Family and Relatives was recently acquired at a car boot sale in Johannesburg. The album, containing the Beadle family tree and many other family documents of significance was solely bought for the photographs contained therein. For some reason the seller was not negotiable on the rather exorbitant selling price. I budged and acquired the album at his selling price. Back home I accepted that the purchase price was fair in that the album contained rich family history – discarded family history.

One of the documents that immediately attracted my attention was the story of Lorna Edna Nattrass (Beadle), neatly typed on two pages. I cannot help but to wonder whether this life story was possibly put together by Lorna Nattrass for publication in a specialist interest group magazine, or whether it was simply meant for the inclusion in the Beadle family tree album. If her discarded story was not previously captured, the electronic capturing thereof becomes significant in that it contains rich family history and also briefly reflects, amongst others, on South Africa during the Second World War.

Lorna was clearly an energetic, positive individual. In her story she touches on the fact that she obtained a pilot’s license and that she was a volunteer during the Second World War. She also achieved as a tennis player, pianist, in needlework, a cookery show judge, and as instructor at ML Sultan Tech where her husband, Henry (Hal), was the first Principal. It is also recorded that...

A large sepia-toned photographic portrait hangs in an entrance hall, the dignified sitter gazing out. The placement of the portrait is central, deliberate. Encased in a slightly worn yet delicately carved wooden frame, an elderly lady, elegantly dressed, stares confidently into the camera. Her posture is straight, with a brooch visible, pinned to her dress. The wooden frame, dating from more than a hundred years ago, has a small crack, with the protective glass showing dust and small scratches, but her gaze remains clear - fixed, unwavering, as though watching over the entrance hall.

In this regularly frequented room, the portrait photograph has become more than an image - it has a distinct presence – a presence not to be ignored.

Today, she is someone’s ancestor. A person of significance, or just an ordinary South African citizen of the time.

The evolution of photographic portraiture contributed to the rich and diverse field of photography we know today. These early photographic portraits, from between the 1880s and 1920s, stand as evidence of human ingenuity and our desire to capture and preserve personal and historical moments. They have become a powerful tool in shaping cultural narratives in that they are closely tied to social status and identity.

Framed, wall-mounted portraits were not merely decorative. They became central to domestic life and symbolic of personal, familial, and sometimes political narratives. They also played a vital role in historical documentation, capturing images of ordinary people, significant figures, men and women in uniform, sporting events...

In constructing this article, I had to ask myself the question: 'Is this article still in line with my primary research topic, namely South African photographic history, or have I become a full-blown genealogist?'.

This article stems from a photograph found in a South African West Coast pawn shop. Without it, this heritage story might never have been told.

The photograph in question is a photograph of seven Afrikaans-speaking Oxford students, captured by an Oxford-based photographer. Photographs by foreign photographers are not included in my ongoing research framework. The fact that all the sitters are South African was however the attraction.

To answer my own question above... a photo historian cannot ignore genealogical aspects presented by any image. The two aspects, namely photographic history and genealogy, therefore clearly overlap. In my ongoing research work, the photograph remains the primary source with the supporting text becoming secondary.

This is the second article where I rely on the photograph to partly reconstruct the narratives of students abroad. The first article related to medical students in Edinburgh (1878), some 50 years before the photograph under discussion in this article (click here to view).

Initially, I was stuck on how to go about researching each of the sitters as only the initials and surnames were presented in the photograph. I was going around in circles and was getting nowhere, until a heritage mentor, Prof. Kathy Munro, suggested: “Think Rhodes Scholarships”. Well, that opened the door. Immediately, I could link all seven sitters to Rhodes Scholarships awarded to...