Raumbild is most closely associated with Nazi propaganda produced between 1936 and 1945. But after the war, Otto Schönstein's images were much more benign - and I needed a break from heady stuff. So enjoy the lovely animal stereoviews of Tiere aus aller Welt!
In this third and final part of a series on VistaScreen's stereoviews featuring the Bertram Mills Circus, we look at the inferior (but scarcer) "Night" version of Series 46, which replaced the "Day" version at some point in time. We also look at possible times these photos were taken, the performers who appear in them, and the problems with shooting on slow glass plates in the dark.
In the second installment (out of three) focused on the wonders of the three VistaScreen series on the Bertram Mills Circus, I document my personal journey over the course of the last couple of years to complete Series 46 - which led to my discovery of two more complete 10-card sets, and to a fascination with VistaScreen. We also delve into the reasons why there are two alternate sets with the same designation - including the theory that some rather racially unacceptable portrayals of American Indians caused the company to change from this relatively quaint "Day Series" to the more formal, and more scarce, "Night Series".
Out of love of all things circus, my very first series of images on this blog was VistaScreen C.62 "Bertram Mills Circus". This is more or less a redux of that series, revamped to greatly improve the image quality, display options, and anaglyphs, with some new information. This is the first in a series of three posts focused on 1950s VistaScreen stereography of Britain's answer to RB&BB - Bertram Mills Circus - because who doesn't love the Big Top?
Looking for a ridiculous series of stereoscopic photographs on one subject that were probably all taken in the course of an hour and possibly all given captions in the span of two minutes? Then look no further, my friends.
Unlike our previous "Christmas present" from Tru Vue, this 1933 filmstrip is not a creepy, low-budget romp through a garage and then a weird scene in a little girl's darkened living room. Rather, it is a fairly interesting peek into messaging for kids during the Great Depression, with MUCH higher production value.
Apparently, in the 1930s, "Santa Claus' Workshop" was the place "Where Dreams Come True for Girls". Because every girl's dream is to receive a doll hastily slapped together in the dingy corner of a garage by a deranged bearded hobo, whose lack of contact with any actual children (or elves) might be a result of his being listed on certain registries, and whose lack of elves might just have a sinister explanation...