By the last quarter of the nineteenth century, photography became widely accepted as a medium capable of capturing moments in time, with the natural world serving as an important subject for many artists in the field. In the 1870s, Eadweard Muybridge made his mark as a photographer with stunning images of nature in the Yosemite [1] . Following the successful experiments with chronophotography by the end of the decade featuring horse gaits and athletes, he was quick to use the new medium to record animals in motion, most notably at the Philadelphia Zoo in the mid-1880s. The quick movements of these animals in captivity represented a milestone in our understanding of the fauna around us through visual technology. Amongst these works, though, one particular sequence stands apart, namely Buffalo Running . By the time of Muybridge's recording, "the plains bison (buffalo) had been systematically slaughtered: from a pre-Columbian population of sixty million to a few thousands" [2] . Without any visible signs that this majestic animal is in captivity, this chronophotographic work is a celebration of the importance the buffalo played through the centuries in the American landscape. The gallop breathes with freedom, each trot displaying the full force of this bovine specimen. Even when looking at the individual photographs from this sequence, we are struck with awe, and lament for the demise of the species. In the modern world, nature documentaries are often used as a reminder of the fragility of the natural world in a time ruled by human supremacy. Muybridge's work is the earliest attempt at using motion pictures to raise awareness of the destructive power of humankind. At a time when the buffalo was approaching possible extinction, this series of photographs would have been one of the few sources to attest to the existence of the species to later generations. Muybridge would have been keenly aware that in recording these images, he would imprint for posterity a unique relic. In this sense, he extended the use of chronophotography beyond the practical observation of the natural world towards a medium that could help audiences relive the past, to understand it, and ultimately to learn from it. As a result, wildlife documentary film finds its true beginnings in this humble work. Certain projections of Buffalo Running reverse the movements, making it go backwards. Eleni Palis considers that this reversal "metaphorically troubles the logic of forward progress, visualising the backwardness, the immeasurable setback of white colonial destruction of peoples, cultures, and wildlife." [3] What we see here is the potential a few images in motion can have in the realm of idea generation. Our perception of film is no longer bound to the exact sequence of events recorded, rather it awakens in us considerations that are of a philosophical nature. Chronophotography in this way joins the other forms of art in its power to initiate intellectual discourse, whilst simultaneously maintaining its impartiality, as the image shown is not a personal interpretation of truth, but a true reflection of outer reality. In The Little Soldier , Jean-Luc Godard stated through his character that "Photography is truth...and cinema is truth twenty-four times a second" [4] . Later, Michael Haneke extended this with "... and every cut is a lie" [5] . Given that chronophotography is a combination of static photographs, the continuous stitching together of the individual frames may generate an optical illusion of continuity; it is nonetheless an illusion. In her attempt to link Muybridge's work to CRISPR technology, Claire Correo Nettleton concluded that the "buffalo appears larger or smaller or in another location from one second to the next—which demonstrates anomalies in the editing process, revealing that the buffalo is not truly 'alive' in front of us." [6] This observation is an apt one for multiple reasons to assess whether the impartiality of Eadweard Muybridge and fellow documentarists who followed him can stand as a factor in the truthfulness of documentary film. First of all, as chronophotography is not a continuous film image shot from a single point of view, we can easily dismiss its truthful representation of the fluidity of movement through its technological capabilities that permitted only recording of movement with the use of multiple cameras. This is not a key concern for this essay, especially if we consider the aim of proving that Buffalo Running is a genuine precursor to documentary film. Most importantly, we need to look at the staging and critically the motivation behind the work. Even though we know that Muybridge worked extensively at the Philadelphia Zoo, there is little indication in the final images whether the animal was recorded in captivity or in the wild. Given the complexity of capturing moving photographs in 1883, it is safe to assume that the animal was in captivity. The staging of the run with an indistinct background gives the opportunity to see the final product as a reproduction of wildlife. However, the recording process also does not guarantee that the final sequence of photographs has been taken within the same time frame. Nettleton's observation does raise the possibility that the sequence is actually the collection of the best photographs taken at different stages that, when shown sequentially, can appear to be a continuous progression. In practice, most nature documentarists to this day use various shots taken at different times to present a continuous narrative. The difficulties in capturing nature unnoticed present a dilemma to any director wanting to make a wildlife documentary. On the one hand, the unfiltered shots would be a truthful reflection of reality, on the other their rawness lacks the ability to complete a cohesive arc. As ultimately it is the narrative that gives the medium a chance to play a role in the realm of intellectual discourse, it is unsurprising that directors sacrifice the honesty of image capture in the hope of presenting a more complete thought process through a structured account. In this, the technical limitations of Buffalo Running are in no way preventing it from making a claim for the first ever nature documentary, as the particularities of recording are consistent with the practice of modern film-makers in concept. Ultimately, a successful documentary is tightly linked to its narrative construction. Muybridge's motivation behind this work is also complex in that regard. On the one hand, this was a series that would inform biologists of the buffalo's movements to support the wider study of mammals' locomotion. However, given the fact that the buffalo was approaching extinction, it is tempting to assume that the main drive behind this work was to raise awareness of its possible disappearance. A year after the production of this work, several legislative acts started to be issued guaranteeing the protection of buffalo in the Yosemite [7] , leading over time to a resurgence of the species in the United States. If we consider the cultural impact of Muybridge's successes in chronophotography from 1878 onwards, he would have hoped that his recording of this noble beast running freely in nature would have generated a genuine race to ensure that the buffalo would once again reign supreme in the American plains. Buffalo Running may be a brief sequence of moving photographs, barely memorable to the inattentive viewer. However, this chronophotographic work laid the foundations for how documentary film was to develop technically. Most importantly, it places nature documentaries at the heart of the ecological discourse, shaping the political and cultural space. References: [1] Smith, Lester. " Photographs on Glass " in Eadweard Muybridge: The Kingston Museum Bequest , edited by the Kingston Museum and Heritage Service; pp. 53-54. Hastings, East Sussex: The Projection Box, 2004. [2] Winegard, Timothy C.. The Horse: A Galloping History of Humanity ; p. 326. New York City: Dutton, 2024. [3] Palis, Eleni. Classical Projections: The Practice and Politics of Film Quotation ; p. 90. New York City: Oxford University Press, 2022. [4] Godard, Jean-Luc. Le Petit soldat: Screenplay ; p. 37. London: Lorrimer Publishing Limited, 1967. [5] Miller, Jacqui. " Introduction " in Film and Ethics: What Would You Have Done? , edited by Jacqui Miller; p. 8. Newcastle upon Tyne: Cambridge Scholars Publishing, 2013. [6] Correo Nettleton, Claire. " Resurrecting the Woolly Mammoth and Muybridge's Horse: CRISPR, Cinema, and Species Revival " in Art and Biotechnology: Viral Culture from CRISPR to COVID , edited by Claire Correo Nettleton & Louise Mackenzie; p. 25. London, New York City & Dublin: Bloomsbury, 2024 [7] Rees, Paul A.. The Laws Protecting Animals and Ecosystems ; p. 423. Hoboken, New Jersey: Wiley Blackwell, 2017.

The history of viewing images in motion is nearly two millennia old. It started with Ting Huan's 'pipe which makes fantasies appear' [1] , an early version of the zoetrope developed in 180 AD under the Han Dynasty, and the camera obscura, dating from the 6th century experiments of Anthemius of Tralles [2]  in the Byzantine Empire. However, most of the devices were developed during the Industrial Revolution, which included Étienne-Gaspard Robert's Fantoscope [3] , John Ayrton Paris' Thaumatrope [4] , Joseph Plateau's Anorthoscope and Phenakistiscope [5] , Simon von Stampfer's Stroboscope [6] , William George Horner's Zoetrope [7] , Franz von Uchatius' Kinetiscope [8] , Alexander Parkes' Parkesine [9] , Samuel Goodale's Stereoscope [10]  and Coleman Sellers II's Kinematoscope [11] . The key to all of these devices was their ability to project images in motion, but what was still lacking was the ability to capture images in motion. The development of photography from Louis Daguerre [12]  onwards had allowed the potential for shooting images in motion, yet it took as late as 1878 for the first successful experiment to take place. The British photographer, Eadweard Muybridge , set the scene by aligning twenty-four cameras in order to take successive pictures of a horse ('Sallie Gardner') in motion. The final result, exhibited in 1880 using his Zoopraxiscope, showed the world a horse galloping, uninterrupted, thus shattering the illusion of the static photograph for the very first time. While Sallie Gardner at a Gallop  is not technically a film in the traditional sense as established by Le Prince a decade later, it still inherits the key ingredients that give us a flavour of the medium. Despite not being filmed from one point of view, using a single device to take consecutive pictures, the final result was nonetheless aimed at being viewed from a single point of view. Muybridge's experiment proved that human perception is limited in its ability to identify the missing images of time and space unless the final result is 'close' enough to reproducing reality. Zeno of Elea's Arrow Paradox [13] , still central to the film's role in the reproduction of motion, was made evident here for the very first time. Each frame of the film image is in essence a motionless photograph, and therefore the concatenation of any other image, irrespective of how 'close' in time and space it was taken, should therefore produce nothing but a motionless image. Alas, film, ever since Eadweard Muybridge, has taught us otherwise. The irony of Sallie Gardner at a Gallop  is that audiences were able to see for the first time images that they were unable to distinguish with the bare eye. Leland Stanford sponsored the project precisely because he could not see whether or not a horse lifts all four legs while galloping. The slowed-down image presented by Muybridge made it possible to observe life moving at 58 km/h. The discovery thus laid down the foundation for all the visual tricks the cinematic world was to bring throughout its history in order to distort our perception so that we confuse it for reality. Throughout his subsequent career, Muybridge exploited the same technical means of capturing images in motion by filming a variety of animals and humans, thus contributing to the expansion not so much of film as a medium, but rather of our knowledge of zoology and anatomy initially, and more specifically locomotion. His research at the University of Pennsylvania led to the creation of over 100,000 images, all contributing to a substantial body of work in the field for both the university and Muybridge himself, allowing him to position himself not only as a photographer, but also a scientist in his own right. Muybridge's interest in locomotion would not have gained such prestige over time, had it not been for the continuous sponsorship he received for his projects. With Sallie Gardner at a Gallop , we witness the key factors that contribute to the creation of film as a viable industry. First and foremost, Stanford's investment acts as an early indicator for the necessity of a producer in the making of a film, the individual in charge of managing the finances for the project and also responsible for the selection of the content, as well as the hiring of the key staff such as the director, editor, and production designer. In this particular case, Stanford oversaw the setup of the shooting location at Palo Alto Stock Farm, providing all the key technical resources, but also selecting the key actors for the experiment. What is important, however, is that he gave Muybridge the freedom to specify precisely the requirements for how the set was to be designed, to identify the correct apparatus he needed, as well as control over how the final film would appear. In essence, we see the origins of the dynamic relationship between artistic freedom and financial constraints that was to mark how the film industry developed over the years. 'A poet needs a pen, a painter a brush, and a filmmaker an army' said Orson Welles [14] . From the very early stages in the development of the film medium we notice that this statement was accurate. Unlike some of the other early experiments in motion pictures, Sallie Gardner at a Gallop  was, if successful, aimed at public consumption, and with this we notice both an investment in terms of technical capacity in the project and also in artistic value. Muybridge's photographic work in the 1870s gained enough artistic recognition to incentivise Stanford to opt for a director who was capable and, most importantly, popular. The media reaction that followed did not treat the film merely as a scientific breakthrough, but it is arguably the clarity of Muybridge's images that allowed for a successful reception in the first place. With this in mind, we can conclude that the artistic value in a film is not paramount, but it serves as a key ingredient towards the satisfaction of viewing it. The variety of uses of the film medium, from fiction to documentary evidence (which in itself expands into the realms of science, sport and arts, to name just a few), has highlighted over the years that more successful works tend to have an artistic visionary behind them, one who elevates the work to create a more enjoyable experience. The director, if they are artistically minded and are given the freedom to exploit their talent, becomes the force that can potentially translate any material into a work of art. For some, Sallie Gardner at a Gallop  is just some footage of a horse running on a track. Others, as in the case of this reviewer, see it as an important milestone towards the development of film as an art form. References: [1]  Needham, Joseph. Science and Civilisation in China ; Volume 4: Physics and Physical Technology , Part 1: Physics ; p. 123. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1962. [2]  Huxley, George Leonard. Anthemius of Tralles: A Study of Later Greek Geometry ; pp. 6-8, 44-46. Cambridge: Greek, Roman and Byzantine Studies, 1959. [3]  Stafford, Barbara Maria. Imaging the Unseen in Enlightenment Art and Medicine ; p. 377. Cambridge: Massachusetts Institute of Technology Press, 1993. [4]  Paris, John Ayrton. Philosophy in Sport, Made Science in Earnest; Being an Attempt to Illustrate the First Principles of Natural Philosophy by the Aid of the Popular Toys and Sports ; pp. 5-6. London: Longman, Rees, Orme, Brown and Green, 1827. [5]  Herbert, Stephen. A History of Pre-Cinema , Volume I ; p. xxi. London: Routledge, 2000. [6]  Bendazzi, Giannalberto. Animation: A World History ; Volume I: Foundations - The Golden Age ; p. 13. Boca Raton: CRC Press, 2016. [7]  Bak, Meredith A.. Playful Visions: Optical Toys and the Emergence of Children's Media Culture ; p. 39. Cambridge: Massachusetts Institute of Technology Press, 2020. [8]  Leeder, Murray. " Visualizing the Phantoms of the Imagination ". Projecting the Haunted Minds of Modernity in Cinematic Ghosts: Haunting and Spectrality from Silent Cinema to the Digital Era , edited by Murray Leeder; p. 51. New York: Bloomsbury Academic, 2015. [9]  Inkster, Ian. Highly Fraught with Good to Man: Patent Organisation, Agency, and Useful and Reliable Knowledge in British Machinofacture Circa 1780-1851 and Beyond in History of Technology ; Volume 31 , edited by Ian Inkster; pp. 135-136. London: Bloomsbury Academic, 2012. [10]  Goodale, Samuel D. Stereoscope, U.S. Patent No. 31,310 - Samuel D. Goodale - 5 February 1861 . Alexandria: United States Patent Office, 1861. [11]  Zone, Ray. Stereoscopic Cinema and the Origins of 3-D Film, 1838-1952 ; p. 31. Lexington: The University Press of Kentucky, 2014. [12]  Bankston, John. Louis Daguerre and the Story of the Daguerreotype . Vero Beach: Rourke Publishing, 2006. [13]  Aristotle. Physics , translated by Robin Waterfield; pp. 161-162. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1996. [14]  Bach, Steven. Final Cut: Dreams and Disaster in the Making of Heaven's Gate ; p. 7. New York: William Morrow & Co, 1985.

Animation sits at the heart of the history of moving pictures. Prior to the 19th century, all attempts at displaying images in motion were essentially drawn images in sequence. The true precursors to the craft, however, appeared in 1833 with the first stroboscopic device by Joseph Plateau, later known as the Phenakistoscope [1] . Numerous other toys followed suit, finally maturing with William Ensign Lincoln and Milton Bradley's Zoetrope in the 1860s [2] . The Zoetrope allowed the projection of moving images to a single spectator at a time, except that movement was always interrupted by the blind spot of the device. The apparatus exploited the illusion of motion provided by the stroboscopic effect and supported by the ability of the human eye to retain images in memory [3] . It is tempting to credit the scientists above and their fellow contemporaries [4] working in the field with the invention of animation, however, that honour has to be bestowed onto Émile Reynaud . His Praxinoscope improved on the previous Zoetrope-like machines by replacing the stroboscopic disc at the base of the toy with a circular basin. "A twelve-sided prism was chosen, with an ordinary mirror attached to each face. The center of this prism [was] fixed to the center of a kind of circular basin. [...] A strip of heavy paper, bearing a series of equidistant images, [was] easily placed on the inner vertical wall of this basin" [5] , allowing the images to burst into life in the projected mirrors, uninterrupted by any other obstruction. The spectacle could also be enjoyed by multiple people simultaneously, as they sat around the toy. In practice, the Praxinoscope offered the first genuine exhibition of images in motion with a strip called The Aquarium at the Universal Exhibition in Paris in May 1878 [6] . To achieve the illusion of motion, the paintings follow a loop, either linear or spiral, or a combination of the two [7] . Upon the rotation of the Praxinoscope, the twelve paintings speed into action, thus generating the desired effect to the human eye. Reynaud had showcased multiple strips since 1877, all featuring living beings in various scenes in motion. The resemblance to daily reality of these moving images would have impressed contemporary audiences, with one reviewer calling it "a charming and entertaining optical toy" [8] . Amongst these works, one particular animation stands apart from the others. Featuring only geometric patterns, The Magic Rosette awes viewers with its depth of artistic ambition. Predominantly using the linear effect in a spiral, Reynaud drew a sequence of quatrefoils converging on a central node on a background of concentric coloured rings diverging out of the observable frame. The bidirectional movement of the elements creates a highly vivid tableau, with the rosette pulsing into life in a universe beaming with light. Émile Reynaud was destined to become the inventor of a toy showing animated images in motion, the later invention of the Optical Theatre in the late 1880s sealing his importance in the history of cinema [9] . As the child of an engineer and an artist [10] , Reynaud's education included both in-depth knowledge of natural sciences as well as painting. In the context of analysing The Magic Rosette , this background becomes an intriguing aspect to explore. From building steam engines at the age of thirteen to inventing new optical toys twenty years later, Reynaud's scientific and engineering credentials are easy to find. By the age of thirty, he established himself as a credible specialist giving scientific lectures in both Paris and in his ancestral home of Le Puy-en-Velay. Furthermore, his early interest in photography exposed his true passion of combining physics with art. And art is the reason why Reynaud's work stands the test of time. Had his contribution been merely of a technical nature, his name would have been lost in the footnotes of cinematic archaeology. What these early strips show is a tremendous attention to visual detail, a deep understanding of colour, and most importantly they all display painterly skill. The Magic Rosette is a perfect example of all three of these aspects. The geometric details are combined with an effective use of colour combinations that elevate each movement into a vibrating spectacle. The illusion of movement is generated through the exploration of all the geometric patterns that the Praxinoscope strips allow. This setting also provided Reynaud the opportunity to use the full canvas of the strip, thus completely liberating the moving image from the constraints of previous projection devices. The overall effect resembles the optics of the Kaleidoscope [11] and that of the Chromatrope [12] , two products invented within half a century prior that would have been familiar to the French artist, and therefore we can assume they were a source of inspiration for this work. The three inventions unite here to provide a platform to a completely new medium, the world of animation. The symbiosis of animation and kaleidoscopic optics inadvertently created an early form of representation of reality through abstractionism. The rosette is magic in the sense that it resembles a flower, and yet, it acts as a star folding onto itself. Our eyesight is focused onto the central node as both a source of implosion for the star and a source of explosion for the rings of light. This play of colours invites interpretation and a search for meaning. For instance, the rosette could be imagined as a symbol of the human mind trying to attain unity with the divine. This is not a far-fetched idea if we consider Reynaud's background as a Catholic artist witnessing as an active spectator the industrial revolution. In a lecture from 26 April 1877, Reynaud argued: "Yes! This science truly elevates human genius. But above all, it transports us to the very heights of the visible throne of Divinity." [13] . This vision of using scientific knowledge as a passage towards fulfilment stirs up imagery similar to that imagined by Dante in the epilogue of Paradiso : "one circle seemed reflected by the second, / as rainbow is by rainbow, and the third / seemed fire breathed equally by those two circles" [14] . The coloured rings act as the trinity towards which the magic rosette ("the scientific human genius") gravitates to unite in the central node. The metaphor is potent, placing The Magic Rosette among the earliest works of art in motion. We may not have much evidence regarding the exact intention behind Reynaud's animation, however, as meaning does not reside purely within the prison of the creator's mind, the freedom for interpretations allows for readings that could elevate simple imitations of the Chromatrope into a jewel of proto-animation archaeology. In his quest to develop animation, Émile Reynaud led the way towards the possibility of developing meaning within frames trapping moving images inside them. References: [1] Marey, Étienne-Jules . Movement ; p. 306. New York: D. Appleton & Company, 1895. [2] Coe, Brian. The History of Movie Photography ; p. 32. London: Ash & Grant, 1981. [3] Tissandier, Gaston. “ Le Praxinoscope ” in La Nature: Revue des sciences et de leurs applications aux arts et à l'industrie, Septième année, 1879, edited by Gaston Tissandier; pp. 133-134. Paris: G. Masson, Editeur, Libraire de l'Académie de médecine, 1879. [4] Willoughby, Dominique. “ Voir et concevoir le mouvement cinématographique, ou quelques destins d’une illusion ” in Hybrid: Revue des arts et médiations humaines - Journal of Arts and Human Mediations, 02/2015 , OpenEdition Journals permalink . Saint-Denis: Presses universitaires de Vincennes, 2015. [5] Charton, Édouard (editor). Le Magasin Pittoresque: Quarante-septième année, 1879 ; pp. 228-229. Paris: Le Magasin Pittoresque, 1879. [6] Rossollin, Edouard . L'Exposition universelle de 1878 à Paris, Groupe IV, Classe 42: Rapport sur la bimbeloterie ; p. 18. Paris: Imprimerie nationale, 1880. [7] Odoux, Christelle. “ Boucles et répétitions animées - Des jouets optiques à l'animation contemporaine”  in Bulletin de Liaison n°47 - Septembre 2011 , edited by Christelle Odoux, permalink . Haut-Doubs: Les Amis d’Émile Reynaud, 2011. [8] Tissandier, Gaston. “ Le Praxinoscope ” in La Nature: Revue des sciences et de leurs applications aux arts et à l'industrie, Septième année, 1879 , edited by Gaston Tissandier; p. 134. Paris: G. Masson, Editeur, Libraire de l'Académie de médecine, 1879. [9] Lonjon, Bernard. Émile Reynaud, le véritable inventeur du cinéma ; p. 176. Polignac, Haute-Loire: Éditions du Roure, 2007. [10] Myrent, Glenn. “ Émile Reynaud: First Motion Picture Cartoonist ” in Film History, Vol. 3, No. 3 ; p. 191. Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press, 1989. [11] Cochrane, Robert. The Treasury of Modern Biography: A Gallery of Literary Sketches of Eminent Men and Women of the Nineteenth Century ; p. 232. London & Edinburgh: William P. Nimmo, 1878. [12] Robinson, David & Stephen Herbert & Richard Crangle (editors). Encyclopaedia of the Magic Lantern ; pp. 65-67. London: The Magic Lantern Society, 2001. [13] Reynaud, Émile. “ Clôture du cours de sciences naturelles ” in Les Cours publics au Puy-en-Velay dans la presse locale , edited by Christelle Odoux; permalink . Haut-Doubs: Les Amis d’Émile Reynaud, 2011. [14] Alighieri, Dante. The Divine Comedy: Inferno - Purgatorio - Paradiso , translated by Allen Mandelbaum; p. 540. New York & Toronto: Everyman’s Library, Alfred A. Knopf, 1995.

Athlete Swinging a Pick is one of Eadweard Muybridge 's early chronophotographic works featuring athletes performing various acts. This series stands out for three reasons: first, the principal actor is Muybridge himself; second, the motion is not actually continuous, unlike others from the same period; and third, the subject of movement is not a specific sporting activity, but rather one more closely related to agriculture or mining. Nonetheless, the pick is not used for the intended activity, but arguably it is just a simulation. The initial reaction is to view this as a pointless act, and yet this whole setting is what makes this particular work significant in the pre-history of cinema. Like many of the early film directors, Muybridge was not specifically trained in performance or the visual arts. He took up photography as a technical profession [1] , his work predominantly inspired by that of Carleton Watkins [2] . His amateur eye captured the unexpected, creating broken frames of nature. The spontaneity breathes through the static images without ever attempting a true representation of reality itself. The lack of context provided Muybridge with the essential ingredient that led him to his landmark success of capturing reality, not through reproduction, but rather through an acceptance that the fleeting moment can only be illusionary. Akin to the filmmakers who followed, Muybridge was a Renaissance man living within the newly built industrial world. Similar to how the current developers of artificial intelligence started, he understood that technology in its raw forms, though eventually capable in concept, can only produce imperfect works that resemble reality and are not a copy of it. Sallie Gardner at a Gallop , and later more schematically Skeleton of Horse , succeeded in reproducing the illusion of continuous movement precisely because it didn't matter if every split second was captured in the photograph. As Émile Reynaud proved with his animation works in 1878, the trick was to invent a machine capable of switching images fast enough so that the human eye could interpret motion by using our cerebral capability of linking information from the past with that of the present, and consequently predicting the future [3] . True artists would have struggled with this implementation, as they would have insisted that authentic motion needed to be recreated by human ingenuity at the point of capture and not in later post-production stages. Precisely because Muybridge was not a fully-fledged artist, it allowed him to accept shortcomings to gain advantage over his more experienced peers in the world of photography. Athlete Swinging a Pick is one of the first productions that had the subject moving at a fixed point rather than on a horizontal plane. We can see that, as a result, each individual frame misses significant movements in the rotation of the body, but when displayed using the fast rotation of the Zoopraxiscope, the viewer recreates the missing images. In doing so, Muybridge also improved on Reynaud's Praxinoscope by adapting it to moving photographs rather than drawings. This particular feature allows one to accept the disjointed images of this series as forming a continuous whole. But why should we consider Athlete Swinging a Pick superior to other contemporary works portraying individuals anchored to a fixed position, such as Athletes Boxing , which feature more frames, thus exhibiting smoother continuity? To answer this, we must focus on other factors. The use of a pick as a prop for this short is a curious one. There is no rock in sight, nor is Muybridge using the tool for breaking up hard ground. At the centre of the image, he simply swings the pick around his body. Given Muybridge's intention to use his invention for the study of human locomotion, we could argue that, at its most basic level of interpretation, the short could be useful to understand what musculature was used when a pick is lifted and thrown onto a solid surface. In practice, this is an acceptable explanation of this work; however, it falls short in explaining why Muybridge chose to stage this particular act, and moreover why he chose to play the central role. If we are to consider film as an art form, then we must allow other facets to influence our appreciation of a work. Even rudimentary productions such as Athlete Swinging a Pick contain the ingredients that could permit them to amount to more than just a technical experiment. The argument here must focus on the symbolism brought forth by Muybridge's presence and the specificity of his actions. The tool moves with the intention of breaking something. In the absence of the hard surface, the only substance left is air. However, given that each movement is trapped by a static photograph, Muybridge's actions are, therefore, attempting to slash through the singularity of a point in time in order to liberate photography from its stillness. Ultimately, the act is one of slashing atemporality to achieve the linearity of time. If Fontana's cut canvases have redefined the concept of a painting, this work gave Muybridge the means to redefine the practice of photography into a new moving art form. With this work, we see the first glimpses of how moving images could create art in themselves. The film director, at heart, requires a vision that is complete enough in ambition to allow for multiple interpretations, rather than a solitary explanation, more common in scientific output. By appearing naked in front of the camera, performing an act of cutting time, Muybridge invited us to see him as a Hellenistic deity, capable of changing the fabric of known life. As a result, we could argue that this is the origin of the film auteur, a visionary generating ideas by being involved in every aspect of the production. Sadly, there is little evidence from Muybridge on his intentions for each individual series of photographs, except his general commitment to the study of locomotion. Given that we find in his later works many scenes that hardly advance anatomical science, such as Child Bringing Bouquet to Woman , it is tempting to assume that Athlete Swinging a Pick hides an artistic meaning, either as outlined above, or as John Ott has argued, a visual polemic against Stanford, by portraying the exploited miners building the Central Pacific Railroad [4] . In seeking out archaic cinematic jewels, this particular work offers plenty of food for thought. References: [1] Clegg, Brian. The Man Who Stopped Time: The Illuminating Story of Eadweard Muybridge — Pioneer Photographer, Father of the Motion Picture, Murderer ; p. 27. Washington, D.C.: National Academies Press, 2007. [2] Green, Tyler. Carleton Watkins: Making the West American ; pp. 371–374. Oakland, California: University of California Press, 2018. [3] Charton, Édouard (editor). Le Magasin Pittoresque: Quarante-septième année, 1879 ; pp. 228–229. Paris: Le Magasin Pittoresque, 1879. [4] Ott, John. Manufacturing the Modern Patron in Victorian California: Cultural Philanthropy, Industrial Capital, and Social Authority ; p. 114. London & New York, New York: Routledge, 2016.

When Eadweard Muybridge photographed two women greeting each other, leading to a warm embrace and ending with a kiss, one wonders whether he understood the unique magnitude this series of images would have in the history of moving pictures. The Kiss is the first work of chronophotography to feature women, postdating only the female characters appearing in many of Émile Reynaud 's early animations. It is also the first work exploring sensuality through images in motion, showing us a kiss that broke the boundaries of heteronormativity in a society that only allowed a single expression of desire [1] . And, the novelty does not stop at what is shown on the screen. The method of shooting the same episode from multiple points of view is pioneering for the development of cinema in the decades to follow, predating its application in film by nearly two decades. Following the successful experiments of creating the illusion of motion through photographing horse gaits as shown in Sallie Gardner at a Gallop , Muybridge used the same stage to record male athletes performing various sporting acts, mainly in the nude, placing his new technique on a par with the cultural achievements of the Ancient Greeks. These late 1870s studies are significant in proving that human actions can also be reproduced through chronophotography; however, they all suffer from poor lighting, often reducing the human form to a silhouette floating over the ground. By the early 1880s, Muybridge had perfected his staging to be able to capture images with enviable clarity. The crispness of The Kiss is striking, pointing to rapid technological improvements in a matter of just a few years. The bodies appear in their full glory, allowing scientists to finally gain deep insights into locomotion. The movement achieved by the fast interchange of the photographs permits the exploration in detail of the musculature of the human form, upon even the most subtle of actions. The faces in their turn are lit abundantly for us to admire the multitude of expressions our countenance is capable of achieving. The high quality of the photographs allows us to gaze into the eyes of the two ladies to understand the full depth of their emotions, raw and unobstructed by technical limitations. With this sequence, Muybridge announced to the world that chronophotography is no longer a gimmick but a genuine new mechanism of recording everything around us with depth and precision. The director's obsession with the nude [2] is partly explained by his scientific interest in locomotion, and partly by his inspiration from the art of the Hellenistic world. In works such as Athlete Walking 1 or Athletes Boxing , both of these influences lead to a potent symbiosis between art and science, proving to be of equal interest to scientists concerned with human anatomy and aesthetes in search of metaphors. However, The Kiss , albeit superior in photographic quality, offers minimal movement and its protagonists breathe with modernity, making us question whether the two original concerns are still at play here. Analysing the three different sequences in detail, it is at first advisable to consider the study of locomotion as a driver of the creative process. By showing the same action from multiple angles, Muybridge provided a nearly complete 360° view of the human physique in movement. The complex construction of the body can be studied holistically, clarifying scientific speculations on how different sets of muscles and bones behave when engaged in action. The simple act of walking and the handshake gain significance when viewed through this scientific lens, providing much insight into the biology of our species. The kissing act can be viewed from the same perspective, but at this point we must question whether the intention in making this work has a scientific basis [3] . When the two women meet each other, we sense a strong warmth, particularly driven by the facial expression of the seemingly younger character. Their kiss, though staged, is not entirely mechanical. It may not be passionate, but it is not lacking in sensuality. Is this a kiss between two friends or two lovers? Muybridge left the question unanswered, thus leaving space for interpretation. On the one hand, given the conservative views of Victorian society [4] , a kiss between two friends would appear as an innocent staging of common camaraderie. On the other hand, given the same views, a kiss between two women in the nude would alarm that society, provoking a revolutionary debate on same-sex love. Even if we accept the common interpretation that as second-class citizens women in the nineteenth century had inadvertently more freedom in expressing their sexual desires [5] , Muybridge's choice to photograph the act in this particular manner is unquestionably provocative. As an artist, he was seen as madly eccentric by his peers [6] , which would explain his keenness to shock with his work, and not merely impress. By veiling the work with a scientific purpose, Muybridge dared to push the boundaries of what is morally acceptable to photograph. As a result, his lesbian kiss stands as a testament to human diversity, celebrating the purity of the act without prejudice. In photographing this kiss from multiple angles, the artist managed to prove that the new medium has no subject it cannot tackle. The moving images are there to show reality from multiple perspectives, each giving us a continuation of a story that starts with simplicity and ends with more complexity. Chronophotography as an art form becomes through this work a medium capable of story-telling, one that can equally analyse human behaviour and emotion. Most importantly, it became a medium that could participate fully in the dialogue of ideas through aesthetics on equal footing with the other arts. The Kiss is a glimpse of the potential that moving pictures were to have in society. At once revolutionary and multi-faceted, this work stands out in the pre-cinematic oeuvre as a symbol of defiance against the norm. Chronophotography, as a precursor to film, had to position itself with a distinct perspective, reproducing reality to give it a completely new vision of itself. Nearly from the start, Eadweard Muybridge lost no time in giving photography that singular new voice. Showing two muses kissing to give birth to a new art form in front of their god Apollo, maybe Muybridge did not steer far from his Hellenistic roots in the end. References: [1] Doane, Mary Ann. The Emergence of Cinematic Time: Modernity, Contingency, the Archive ; pp. 203-204. Cambridge, Massachusetts: Harvard University Press, 2002. [2] Slide, Anthony. Silent Topics: Essays on Undocumented Areas of Silent Film ; pp. 44-45. Lanham, Maryland: The Scarecrow Press, Inc., 2005. [3] Wojcik-Andrews, Ian. Children's Films: History, Ideology, Pedagogy, Theory ; p. 151. New York City: Garland Publishing, Inc., 2005. [4] Rosenberg, Miles. " Friendship " in Reader's Guide to Lesbian and Gay Studies , edited by Timothy F. Murphy; p. 235. Chicago & London: Fitzroy Dearborn Publishers, 2000. [5] Fantina, Richard. Victorian Sensational Fiction: The Daring Work of Charles Reade ; p. 114. London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2010. [6] Gordon, Sarah Anne. Indecent Exposures: Eadweard Muybridge's Animal Locomotion Nudes ; pp. 5-6. New Haven, Connecticut: Yale University Press, 2015.

Any first viewing of Émile Reynaud 's The Slide may come across as unimpressive, especially for those unaware that it was first shown to an audience in 1878, and that it is one of the earliest works of animation in history. Watching the three boys go up a hill, then slide on the snow, and finally jump over a wooden post makes us smile, providing a light form of entertainment. And yet, this short Praxinoscope strip is a landmark in the history of moving images due to its skilful depiction of perspective in motion. The history of perspective in art dates back to early examples in Ancient Egyptian reliefs [1] and Greco-Roman frescoes found in Pompeii [2] , most commonly employing empirical perspective, conveying that smaller objects or figures in the composition are positioned further away from those in the foreground. It was not until the Renaissance that we find the first truly geometric representations of perspective [3] , culminating in Raphael's celebrated masterpiece The School of Athens . For painters, perspective became critical in expanding the visual space limited by the canvas, imitating the human visual experience and therefore facilitating the immersion of the viewer in the work itself. Having been trained by his mother to draw in watercolours [4] , Reynaud was well versed in the many techniques to transform the two-dimensional space of a blank piece of paper into a three-dimensional world. In most of his Praxinoscope strips, he used perspective to set his subjects within a background that has depth, such as in The Roaster and The Pit-sawyers . In works such as The Swing and The Game of Graces , the characters are placed in different planes to imply distance. All of these examples operate on the same principle as static paintings, as the elements are trapped in the plane they were originally placed in. The first time we see an object moving into perspective is in The Soap-bubbles , a work that mimics the same optical illusion previously achieved by stroboscopic discs. Then we have the animals seemingly changing size in The Learned Dogs , from the same first series of Praxinoscope strips. Arguably, this is the first example of animated beings moving through perspective, but if we analyse the individual static pictures, the proportions are maintained for each of the dogs, and it is only by spinning the strips that the optical illusion of perspective is generated. Later, in the third series of strips, we see a similar technique used in The Little Waltzers , but in the absence of a focal point of view, the result becomes visually disorienting. What sets The Slide apart from all of the other works in Émile Reynaud's early oeuvre is how he used his painting skills to deliver a genuinely complete experience of perspective in motion. In the twelve images that comprise this sequence, there are only three distinct actions depicted. From left to right, we first have a boy in the background going down the snowy slide. Initially, he is blurred in the background, with barely visible facial features. As he slides down the slope, his features become more apparent, his body grows, and when he reaches the wooden post, we see his face in full view, whilst his stature matches that of the second boy. The second boy remains in the foreground throughout, performing the jump over the post, before turning his back to the viewer to begin his ascent up the hill. The third boy starts his journey at the bottom of the slope, and we see him become almost imperceptible at the top of the hill. Not only is he a miniature of his original size, his face is barely visible, but most importantly the colours on his clothes have faded into a near-monochromatic palette. Reynaud treated each image as a work in itself, attending carefully to the perspectival demands of each figure's precise placement within that image. The colour schemes are tailored to each drawing whilst ensuring continuity where necessary. When stitched together, however, the boys merge into each other sufficiently to generate the optical illusion of continuous movement, whilst retaining a degree of individuality. The effectiveness of our perception of perspective in The Slide is attributable to the static wooden post and the jump at the centre of the image. Our eyes focus so intently on that action that we genuinely allow the ascent and corresponding descent of the two other boys to blur into the background. Reynaud used the reverse structure in The Clowns , but as the pivot is placed at the back and the clowns are not visibly changing proportions throughout, we are less able to appreciate the effects that perspective has in moving images. When Orson Welles popularised the deep focus technique in Citizen Kane in 1941 [5] , audiences were reminded that the action happening in the background is as significant as that happening in the foreground. Moving pictures came to establish themselves not so much as a theatrical show in which attention is directed towards the action before us, but as a reproduction of the world around us, making the faithful rendering of perspective a necessary condition of that ambition. Watching the early animation works for the Praxinoscope, it is evident that Émile Reynaud intended to use his newly devised apparatus as a medium for entertainment. To fulfil that vision, it was critical that his drawings reflect reality with great precision to guarantee the immersion of audiences in the moving world he was creating. The Slide stands as the culmination of that effort, as it succeeds in presenting motion not only parallel to the eye, but also perpendicular to it. Our focus changes from a single plane to multiple planes, making the full visual experience richer. By proving that images can move in multiple directions simultaneously, Reynaud had successfully created the conditions for animation to become a platform for complex storytelling. By the 1890s, his vision extended to feature-length works, but without these humble experiments it is unlikely that he would have earned his recognition as the grandfather of animation. In The Slide , we see an artist who uses rudimentary technology attempting to replicate life in its most charming complexity. References: [1] Delli Castelli, Alessio. Ancient Egyptian Portraiture: History of an Idea ; p. 741. Leiden: Brill, 2025. [2] Sinisgalli, Rocco. Perspective in the Visual Culture of Classical Antiquity ; pp. 115–118. New York City: Cambridge University Press, 2012. [3] Kubovy, Michael. The Psychology of Perspective and Renaissance Art ; pp. 162–173. New York City: Cambridge University Press, 1986. [4] Fischer, Paul. The Man Who Invented Motion Pictures: A True Tale of Obsession, Murder, and the Movies ; p. 198. New York City: Simon & Schuster, 2022. [5] Hayward, Susan. Cinema Studies: The Key Concepts , 2nd Edition; p. 81. London & New York City: Routledge, 2002.

Of the early pioneers in the art of motion pictures, Émile Reynaud is the first to have successfully combined the engineering capability of inventing an apparatus that could display images faster than a human eye could perceive and the projection of these images to a wider audience with, most significantly, the artistic ambition of creating a new medium for entertainment. Starting in 1877 and culminating with his exhibition of the Praxinoscope at the Universal Exposition in Paris in May 1878 [1] , he tirelessly created multiple drawings for his invention. These artworks fall into three main overlapping categories: ordinary actions of humans and animals, circus performances, and displays of popular games and sports in the 1870s. As an ensemble, these proto-animation works constitute the dawn of motion pictures as the seventh art. It took over a quarter of a century for Ricciotto Canudo to coin the new cinematic medium as "plastic art in motion" [2] in 1911, when both films and animations gained sufficient popularity to deserve distinct categorisation. What we see in Reynaud's early output contains all the ingredients necessary for that definition. To assess this, we shall analyse one of his most ambitious productions, namely The Steeple-Chase from his third series of strips for the Praxinoscope. Understanding the achievements of this work and its significance in the history of film requires reviewing the evolution towards it in the preceding strips. In the first series, we encounter a young lady playing with fish in The Aquarium , a chef preparing a chicken in The Roaster , a young girl blowing bubbles in The Soap-bubbles , and a young man playing the tambourine in Dzing. Boom. Boom! . These images follow the pattern established by other pioneers who emulated movement through the rapid rotation of stroboscopic discs. The central characters perform ordinary actions, allowing viewers to focus their attention at the centre of the canvas and track the movement of various body parts. Similar features appear in The Baby's Breakfast and The Smoker in subsequent series of strips. These works are mere reproductions of real motion, with varying degrees of artistic achievement. The circus performances in The Juggler , The Learned Dogs , The Tight-rope Dance , The Trapeze and The Clowns focus not only on movement reproduction but on performance in their own right, as the audience consumes the act in motion not as mere curiosity but as entertainment. The displays of popular games further enhance sport's appeal in engaging an audience through observation. The Skipping-Rope , Battledore and Shuttlecock and The Game of Graces are, in effect, moving advertisements for those games. Nevertheless, all of the above works confine the action within the frame of the drawing, allowing continuity to be expressed only through localised repetition. The breaking of the frame's constraints is first witnessed in The Lady Swimmer , as the gaze of the central character constantly extends beyond the limits of the painting with each stroke of the arms and legs. The Lady Rider completely abandons these limits as the sportswoman moves in and out of the visible frame with each trot of her horse. The constant return of the same character reminds the viewer of the techniques used in shadow plays, which essentially treat the canvas as a stage where performance is limited to character entry and exit. To achieve this effect, Reynaud moved the action horizontally in a linear fashion before adding the frame separators. The Steeple-Chase expands on the lessons of The Lady Rider by incorporating multiple performers. The central point of the drawing is in constant flux, as the viewer's eye moves simultaneously across the canvas while remaining fixed at the centre of the image enjoying the spectacle. This shifting of perspectives parallels Eadweard Muybridge 's set-up of linear horizontal cameras placed to capture the movement of the horse in real life, whilst allowing the final action to be projected with the gaze focused solely on the centre of the image. Muybridge used the Zoopraxiscope, a slight refinement of Reynaud's Praxinoscope, to exhibit Sallie Gardner at a Gallop in 1880 [3] , but it is arguably unlikely that The Steeple-Chase was an inspiration, despite preceding the Palo Alto experiment by approximately a month. Curiously, Reynaud depicted his horses with all four legs in the air in his drawings, a fact that Muybridge subsequently confirmed with certainty [4] . Indisputably, the timing of both productions places The Steeple-Chase at the heart of the race to create moving images. However, whilst the historical coincidence is fortuitous, timing alone provides insufficient reason to celebrate it as a key work of cinematic archaeology, especially given the twenty-seven previous animations Reynaud had already produced. Admittedly, the technical combination of linear image shift with the maintenance of central compositional focus was achieved in this work for the first time, and therefore it merits due recognition. The additional reason this work is essential to the history of moving images lies in its subject matter. Reynaud's drawing of the steeplechase race appears only four years after the inauguration of the Grand Steeple-Chase de Paris in 1874 [5] . The emerging popularity of the sport would have resonated with the contemporary public. Reynaud's work functions not merely as an exercise in motion but as a record of actual events. Prior to the discovery of film, animated drawings were the only means of using moving images to document actual sporting events in motion. Even after film's discovery, it was not unusual for film pioneers to restage actual events and present them as documentary evidence. More than any other of his works, Reynaud here demonstrated the potential of moving images to capture history in motion. Reynaud's masterpiece ultimately stands as the first example of defining the medium of moving pictures as a source of entertainment, both for its ability to reproduce entertaining events and for generating public enjoyment through repeated viewing. The Praxinoscope and subsequent projecting devices became desirable products for consuming entertainment, effectively reducing the necessity of attending individual events to experience them. The Steeple-Chase exemplifies how its apparent simplicity achieved such important milestones in how technology shapes our appreciation of life. References: [1] Neupert, Richard. French Film History, 1895-1946 ; p. 10. Madison, Wisconsin: The University of Wisconsin Press, 2022. [2] Pervez, Saima. Film and Visual Communication: Exploring the Art and Language of Cinema ; p. 14. New Delhi: The Readers Paradise, 2023. [3] Herbert, Stephen. " Projecting the Living Image " in Eadweard Muybridge: The Kingston Museum Bequest , edited by the Kingston Museum and Heritage Service; p. 115. Hastings, East Sussex: The Projection Box, 2004. [4] Bekey, George A. Autonomous Robots: From Biological Inspiration to Implementation and Control ; p. 304. Cambridge, Massachusetts & London: The MIT Press, 2005. [5] Vamplew, Wray & Kay, Joyce. Encyclopedia of British Horseracing ; p. 133. Abingdon-on-Thames: Routledge, 2005.