I stood in the McCord Stewart Museum’s climate-controlled vault, watching as the archivist carefully lifted a glass plate negative from its acid-free envelope. The image revealed a Montreal streetscape from 1859, frozen in time yet startlingly alive. “This is one of William Notman’s earliest works,” she explained, her voice dropping to a reverent whisper. “Now, these photographs have been recognized alongside history’s most significant cultural treasures.”
Last week, UNESCO added the Notman Photographic Archives to its prestigious Memory of the World Register, placing these 200,000 images in the company of the Magna Carta, The Diary of Anne Frank, and Canada’s only other photographic entry: the Hudson’s Bay Company Archives.
For many Canadians, the name William Notman might trigger faint recognition from high school history classes. But for those who study our visual past, the Scottish-born photographer who arrived in Montreal in 1856 is nothing short of revolutionary. His studio – eventually expanded through 24 branches across Canada and the northeastern United States – created what is arguably the most comprehensive visual record of 19th century Canadian life ever assembled.
“Notman wasn’t just taking pictures; he was constructing our national mythology in real-time,” explains Dr. Sarah Matthews, photography historian at the University of Toronto. “His images of the Canadian Pacific Railway, Indigenous communities, and urban life became how Canadians understood themselves and how the world saw Canada.”
The UNESCO designation arrives as institutions worldwide grapple with colonial legacies embedded in their collections. The Notman Archives are particularly complex – containing both problematic representations of Indigenous peoples alongside early collaborative portraiture that allowed some First Nations leaders to present themselves on their own terms.
“These photographs are complicated documents,” acknowledges Hélène Samson, former Curator of the Notman Photographic Archives at the McCord Museum. “They show us both the creativity of the studio and the power dynamics of the era. That’s precisely why they’re valuable – they reveal the tensions at the heart of Canada’s formation.”
Walking through the McCord’s “William Notman: Portrait of a Nation” exhibition during my visit, I was struck by the technical brilliance behind these images. Notman pioneered composite photography techniques that allowed him to create massive group portraits by photographing individuals separately and seamlessly combining them – 19th century Photoshop using glass plates, paint, and extraordinary patience.
One such composite, “The Skating Carnival” (1870), features over 300 individual portraits arranged into a winter festival scene at Montreal’s Victoria Rink. The museum’s interactive display reveals how Notman and his team photographed each person in studio against painted backgrounds, then meticulously assembled them into a single coherent image that captured Montreal’s social life.
Beyond technical innovation, the archives tell deeply human stories. In one series from the late 1860s, a young Kanien’kehá:ka (Mohawk) woman named Skawennati sits for several formal portraits in both European and traditional dress. Her direct gaze challenges the camera in ways that speak to cultural resilience during an era of intense assimilation pressures.
“We’re seeing these archives through new perspectives now,” says Dr. Gerald McMaster, Director of the Wapatah Centre for Indigenous Visual Knowledge at OCAD University. “Indigenous communities are reclaiming these images, finding ancestors, and reinterpreting them beyond colonial frameworks. The UNESCO designation could help facilitate greater access and ongoing dialogue about representation.”
The Memory of the World Register, established in 1992, recognizes documentary heritage of global significance. For the Notman collection, the designation provides international protection and brings attention to preservation needs. The archives face the same challenges confronting many historical photographic collections: deteriorating glass plates, obsolete preservation methods, and the massive undertaking of digitization.
Suzanne Sauvage, President and Chief Executive Officer of the McCord Stewart Museum, tells me the UNESCO recognition will support their ongoing preservation efforts. “These photographs belong to all Canadians, and indeed, to humanity. The designation helps secure their future while acknowledging their exceptional cultural value.”
When I ask about what makes these archives uniquely worthy of UNESCO recognition, Sauvage points to a wall of portraits showing everyone from Sir John A. Macdonald to anonymous labourers. “Notman’s studio democratized photography in some ways. While the wealthy commissioned elaborate portraits, his team also documented everyday Canadians, industrial developments, and landscapes that would have otherwise vanished without record.”
The archives include substantial documentation of Indigenous communities across Canada, women’s changing roles in society, immigrant experiences, and the industrialization that transformed the nation. What makes them exceptional is their scope, technical quality, and the comprehensive nature of the collection – including business records, original negatives, and finished prints that allow researchers to understand the entire photographic process.
As I leave the museum, I pass a group of high school students gathered around Notman’s famous 1868 portrait of Louis Riel with other Métis delegates. Their teacher explains how this photograph was taken during negotiations with the Canadian government, years before the Red River Resistance. The students lean in closely, examining faces from over 150 years ago, connecting across time with the complex human beings behind our often flattened historical narratives.
That connection – the ability to look directly into the eyes of our collective past – may be the archives’ most profound value. In an era of digital impermanence, William Notman’s glass plates remind us of photography’s power to collapse time, preserving fragments of light that illuminate not just what Canada was, but how we continue to understand ourselves.
