Before everyone had their own screen

In Liu An-Ming's 1962 In front of the First TV, the television turns its back on the camera. The children crowding in front do all the performing. Chins up, eyes fixed ahead, bodies wedged into whatever gap will let them see. What was actually on? Almost beside the point. Now we carry screens in our pockets and have no shortage of bowed heads. A whole room of faces like these is harder to find.

Cheng Shang-Hsi's Harborside Movie Theater, photographed two years earlier, plants the cinema beside a waterfront street. There's a ship, a sky strung with wires, someone pushing a little cart, and a film advertisement grabbing attention on the wall. The street already has enough going on. The movie inside had better be good.

Both photographs are in 《我們 台灣》 at Chishang Barn Art Museum, curated by Huang Chien-Liang. The exhibition looks through Taiwan's places, daily life, rituals and historical events. Together, these two images make “watching” include claiming a spot, passing a film poster, discovering who's beside you. Next time you're planning Chishang, leave a little room for somebody else's long-ago afternoon.