The Anthotype is an early photographic process that uses botanical pigments extracted from plants as the basis for a light sensitive photographic emulsion. As with almost all early photographic processes of the mid-19^th century ‘the Anthotype’ is the result of the overlocking work of several individuals.

However, unlike other photographic processes, the anthotype is not a singular thing: Different plants, different combinations of plants, and even the process of breaking down the plant can yield different results. Primary amongst the inventors of the anthotype was Mrs Mary Somerville who did a great deal of the research on different plant combinations in the 1840’s. She in turn built her research on the work of Henri August Vogel (who first noted that plant pigments were sensitive to light) and Theodor Freiherr von Grotthuss (who realised that light rays were causing chemical changes in the pigments). Sir John Herschel extended and added to Mary Somerville’s work, and later Robert Hunt and Michel Eugene Chèvreaul further expanded and improved the research. In short, all these people ‘invented’ the anthotype. For a more complete history of the anthotype, detail explanation of the process, practical tips do read Malin Fabbri’s publications particularly ‘Anthotypes: Explore the darkroom in your garden and make photographs using plants’ pub: Create Space Independent Publishing Platform, 2011.

My first experimentation with the anthotype, in the summer of 2018, was slightly abortive. Having come across the process in Christopher James’s book: ‘The Book of Alternative Photographic Processes’ (2^nd Ed.) and without much detailed reading I decided to just invent my own concoction of plant extracts: 50g’s of strawberries, blueberries, and carrots, 3 yellow poppy heads, 15 red campion heads, 2 pickled beetroot and 1 level teaspoon of turmeric. This was the plant extract equivalent of throwing everything at it. Embarrassingly there was zero science in this (other than to say some of these some of these plants according to others had yielded good results individually, and plants that contained red pigments were meant to work well).

I can now see from doing just a little more research that that the individual prints or botanical combinations that work are specific and are usually born of much experimentation. Therefore, it would have been luck if I had managed to produce a reasonable image, and sure enough the experiment was at least a 90% failure:

Anthotypes take a long time to process (one of the attributes that made sure that this photographic technique was marginalised during the 20^th century). The only method of creating a standard photographic positive image is to place a positive transparency on the light sensitive material. In this sense you are not taking a photograph, the anthotype is a photographic printing method, where you already have a positive photographic image through another process. The other way of using the anthotype is by creating a photogram – by placing objects directly on top of a sensitised piece of paper painted with the photo emulsion. In this case pressed plants are often the chosen object / subject. In either method the arrangement is left for days, weeks, or even months in the sun (depending on how strong your sunlight is) until the exposed botanical pigment fades. Over time the sun alters the chemicals in the exposed areas of the paper, whilst those areas that are covered are protected by the image or object and after exposure you should have your photograph. This photograph cannot be fixed, and whilst anthotypes have been known to last decades if stored correctly out of sunlight, they will eventually fade and disappear.

I tried the standard process of making a positive transparency print, putting it with the photo paper in a clamped glass frame and leaving it in the sun for several weeks. However, after a lengthy period I found that whilst there was an image it was extremely faint. My hypothesised reasons for this were that: a). I did not coat my paper with enough of the extract (the colour should be strong). b). My mixture was far too complex, and elements may have been cancelling one another out. c). The acid in the pickled beetroot may have caused problems with the emulsion.

This said, the process was not a complete failure. A slight image was left – not worth recording but hinting at something more. A much stronger mark was left on my consciousness. The beauty of this process and its ultimate goal of making a photographic image out of entirely natural and potentially sustainable ingredients is surely a target worth pursuing. I have promised myself that I will in the long run return to, continue, and expand my anthotype experiments.