Minding the gaps

Surprising connections 

Since joining the RSA this spring, I have been immersing myself in its collections – seeking familiar reference points of my own in a new and rich archive. One familiar name stood out to me: David Knights-Whittome, a photographer who was elected to the Society of Arts in 1897, and whose work I encountered in a previous role, managing the archive for the London Borough of Sutton. There, I helped lead the digitisation of over 11,000 of his glass plate negatives – images that captured a local community between 1905 and 1918, during a transformative period in British history.  

Knights-Whittome’s association with the Society is limited in our records to his election as a Fellow, but we know that he was an early beneficiary of Henry Cole’s copyright reforms, by registering his formative work with the Stationers’ Company (records of which are now held in the COPY1 collection at The National Archives). Largely self-trained, he would no doubt have been keen to read many of the educational articles which appear in The Journal of the Society of Arts in the 1890s and beyond. 

Silent stories 

My work on the Knights-Whittome project revealed stories of housemaids, scientists, scholars, soldiers, suffragists and more. These portraits, often unnamed and undated, speak volumes. Each sitter’s gaze bridges a 120-year gap with surprising immediacy, evoking emotion and recognition. I’m reminded of the words of another photographer, Julia Margaret Cameron, who aimed to record “the greatness of the inner as well as the features of the outer man”. Without comparing the two, this ambition might equally have applied to any of the portraits in Knights-Whittome’s collection whose likenesses prompt a multitude of questions. 

Counterintuitively, the lack of personal detail available about these sitters has invited viewers in. The gaps in our knowledge about these individuals fuelled engagement with communities – students, survivors, creatives, people with lived experience of loneliness and exclusion, and audiences from various backgrounds, places and viewpoints – all of whom were able to research, reimagine and share these silent stories, bringing new perspectives to the images.

Though the collection lacked diversity in its original makeup, its themes – loss, love, resilience and endeavour – were universal. The project’s reach extended internationally and sparked conversations and creative responses that moved well beyond the original archive. It was a reminder that gaps and silences can be as meaningful as what is recorded. They prompt empathy, imagination and new narratives. 

This experience shapes how I now approach my role with the RSA’s archive. I am eager to uncover its threads, explore its silences, and contribute to a future collection that is ‘inclusive in its exclusivity’. By recognising what is missing as well as what is present, we can better represent the layered stories that define our communities and choices. The archive is not static; it’s a space for ongoing discovery, dialogue and connection. I look forward to sharing more as that journey, and my experience here, unfolds.