This is possibly Marie-Alice Dumont’s first self-portrait, taken when she was about 30 years old. She was then living in the family home on the 5e Rang. Why did she take this photograph of herself? Was it a practice photo before she welcomed her first clients? Did she want to test the camera’s focus? Maybe she was attempting to perfect her bust portrait technique? Or experimenting with light and a slightly turned posture? Was the budding photographer trying to find her identity as a professional and an artist? Perhaps she sought, also, to carve out a place for herself in the world? Her whole life, Marie-Alice photographed others. A self-portrait like this one was a way of saying, “I, too, exist.”

Here, Marie-Alice Dumont posed with her younger sister Elizabeth (to the right, with glasses) and two other girls, who might have been her nieces. The photographer had just set up her studio in the village centre of Saint-Alexandre. A large window had been installed on the north side, and a broad backdrop had been purchased as well: two signs that the studio was fully equipped and ready to welcome a great many clients.

Some passions, like hunting, are handed down from father to son. We can imagine that this is what Pierre Bélanger was aiming to illustrate when he brought his son, Dominique, to Studio Dumont. In a rather amusing photo shoot, the photographer took various portraits of the child dressed as a little hunter, armed with a toy rifle and looking very serious.

Marie-Alice Dumont’s archives show that she used a variety of techniques and tricks to take portraits of children that are both natural and striking. One was to get the children to interact. Here, she placed these two boys, who must have known each other well, facing one another and, presumably, she asked them to converse. She managed to catch a momentary pause in the conversation, as if they were studying each other, waiting for a reaction.

Using a toy, stuffed animal or doll is a winning strategy to make sure a child’s portrait turned out well. To put four-year-old Francine Soucy at ease, the photographer perhaps lent her a doll, asked her mother to bring one or suggested the girl pose with her special friend after seeing her with it in the studio. The portrait is very nice: Francine seems to be enjoying herself, and she flashes a big, genuine smile.

Photographs often included objects or costumes to contextualize a studio portrait. Here, the guitar held by the man and the costumes the couple are wearing clearly show that music and entertainment were part of their lives. In fact, they are none other than Anita and Édouard Castonguay, key figures on Quebec’s country music scene in the second half of the 20th century. At the time Dumont took this portrait, Édouard had just recorded his first album, and he and Anita had been touring the province with great success. With their two sons, Martin and David, they formed La Famille Castonguay, a band that enjoyed a certain notoriety. Édouard Castonguay performed his last show in Saint-Alexandre on October 8, 2005.

Described as displaying undeniable technical skill, Marie-Alice Dumont’s studio work also expressed a general comfort and trust between the photographer and her subjects. We notice, for example, that the same people were photographed many times, sometimes even over several decades. This was true of Lise Chamard, who visited the Dumont’s studio on at least four occasions: in 1941, 1943 (the date of this portrait), 1949 and 1960.

Why was this elderly woman photographed at her spinning wheel in Dumont’s studio? Isn’t it curious that the scene is set in a studio and not in a domestic setting? Were the light and other conditions bad in her home? Might an organization, like the Cercles des fermières, have commissioned such a beautiful portrait? Whatever the case, this photograph stands out from Marie-Alice Dumont’s other portraits of craftspeople, which, typically, were shot in a home setting and with an aesthetic that feels more like a snapshot.

This portrait of Madeleine Marquis is one of many examples of how Marie-Alice Dumont’s portraits “modernized” over her career, particularly those of women. Here, we see Mrs. Marquis relaxed, with her body, face, arms and legs pointing in different directions. Madeleine is looking at us, but at an angle. The pose is dynamic despite the subject’s seated posture.

Skill in the art of posing also means being able to shed a flattering light on the subject, taking them as they come. Simone Gagné certainly did not wear that huge fur collar for nothing! Dumont did a good job of emphasizing it in a frontal pose slightly at an angle. Miss Gagné, with her penetrating gaze, sports an elegant hairstyle. Her positioning also highlights this detail.

Marie-Alice Dumont had a small, sober-looking backdrop for portraits of people alone and of couples. She often photographed them head-on, without accessories, in a bust pose. In doing so, she followed in the footsteps of the great French photographer Nadar (1820–1910), renowned for his highly successful studio portraits of the leading figures of his time. Thanks to Dumont’s masterful art, the loved ones of Roland Thériault, a member of the Royal Canadian Air Force and a soldier in World War II, had a magnificent portrait of him to cherish while he was away at the front.

Angélina Desjardins was another person who passed through Marie-Alice Dumont’s studio several times in her life. Here, for the first time, we see her in an intriguing pose. The way she is seated on the armchair recalls the concubines who were painted throughout history as naked or scantily clad women to evoke sensuality. The resemblance is indeed striking. And yet, Miss Desjardins is just 12 years old here. This casts a doubt on the intentions of the photographer, who was raised in a very conservative milieu and known herself to lecture young people about such mores. Yet, the girl’s gaze does not convey (or seek to convey) sensuality: rather, it’s gentle and innocent. It is tempting, therefore, to attribute it to coincidence or to say that Dumont simply was not aware of the concubines.

Here we see Angélina Desjardins, once again before Dumont’s lens. Four years had passed, and she had become a young woman of 16. The visual style of this portrait is completely different from the previous one. The subject posed in bust form. In the manner of Hollywood stars of the time, her torso is slightly at an angle, while her face is aimed directly at the camera, lending movement to the portrait. The young woman’s makeup and attire appear flirtatious, especially the huge velvet bow in her hair. Angélina’s gaze is direct, frank, intense and confident. It has nothing of the innocent child’s gaze she donned in the previous portrait.

In family portraits taken in the studio, individuals were often placed in such a way as to reflect their position in the family. Here, Daria and Origène Dumont’s five oldest children are placed in order of their birth and, by happy circumstance, by height. Françoise, the oldest, is on the far left. Jean-Paul, Céline, Nicole and Gérard follow in succession.

Photographing children who had just passed their solemn communion or confirmation is another kind of ceremony with well-defined codes. Like in this portrait of Réal Beaupré, Dumont’s nephew, the communicants would leave their childhood garb behind to pose in suit and tie. Boys also wore a white armband, symbolizing innocence and purity. They would also hold a rolled certificate in their hands. Finally, one or more white lilies rounded out the decor.

Pitre Bouchard once again visited the small Saint-Alexandre studio. Dressed in his best suit, he posed with his couvre-chef and then again without it. When in the lens with his wife and many children, he never wore a hat; but, when he was alone in front of the camera, he allowed himself the choice. The cap we see here suited him particularly well. Its slight tilt on his head echoes the angle formed by the subject’s equally inclined shoulders. Mr. Bouchard is not standing quite straight either: rather than holding himself up tall, shoulders slightly rolled back, he appears here slightly hunched over. The effect is not necessarily bad! It gives him a relaxed, natural look that goes well with his slightly drooping eyes. Dumont had a gift for producing portraits packed with personality.

It was not unusual for Dumont’s clients to pose in a work uniform. Indeed, many people trusted Marie-Alice Dumont to make them an attractive professional portrait. The example of Eugénie Lavoie, a nurse, illustrates this. Might she have been one of the nurses who cared for the photographer during her long hospitalization in 1936?

This is possibly Marie-Alice Dumont’s first self-portrait, taken when she was about 30 years old. She was then living in the family home on the 5e Rang. Why did she take this photograph of herself? Was it a practice photo before she welcomed her first clients? Did she want to test the camera’s focus? Maybe she was attempting to perfect her bust portrait technique? Or experimenting with light and a slightly turned posture? Was the budding photographer trying to find her identity as a professional and an artist? Perhaps she sought, also, to carve out a place for herself in the world? Her whole life, Marie-Alice photographed others. A self-portrait like this one was a way of saying, “I, too, exist.”

Here, Marie-Alice Dumont posed with her younger sister Elizabeth (to the right, with glasses) and two other girls, who might have been her nieces. The photographer had just set up her studio in the village centre of Saint-Alexandre. A large window had been installed on the north side, and a broad backdrop had been purchased as well: two signs that the studio was fully equipped and ready to welcome a great many clients.

Some passions, like hunting, are handed down from father to son. We can imagine that this is what Pierre Bélanger was aiming to illustrate when he brought his son, Dominique, to Studio Dumont. In a rather amusing photo shoot, the photographer took various portraits of the child dressed as a little hunter, armed with a toy rifle and looking very serious.

Marie-Alice Dumont’s archives show that she used a variety of techniques and tricks to take portraits of children that are both natural and striking. One was to get the children to interact. Here, she placed these two boys, who must have known each other well, facing one another and, presumably, she asked them to converse. She managed to catch a momentary pause in the conversation, as if they were studying each other, waiting for a reaction.

Using a toy, stuffed animal or doll is a winning strategy to make sure a child’s portrait turned out well. To put four-year-old Francine Soucy at ease, the photographer perhaps lent her a doll, asked her mother to bring one or suggested the girl pose with her special friend after seeing her with it in the studio. The portrait is very nice: Francine seems to be enjoying herself, and she flashes a big, genuine smile.

Photographs often included objects or costumes to contextualize a studio portrait. Here, the guitar held by the man and the costumes the couple are wearing clearly show that music and entertainment were part of their lives. In fact, they are none other than Anita and Édouard Castonguay, key figures on Quebec’s country music scene in the second half of the 20th century. At the time Dumont took this portrait, Édouard had just recorded his first album, and he and Anita had been touring the province with great success. With their two sons, Martin and David, they formed La Famille Castonguay, a band that enjoyed a certain notoriety. Édouard Castonguay performed his last show in Saint-Alexandre on October 8, 2005.

Described as displaying undeniable technical skill, Marie-Alice Dumont’s studio work also expressed a general comfort and trust between the photographer and her subjects. We notice, for example, that the same people were photographed many times, sometimes even over several decades. This was true of Lise Chamard, who visited the Dumont’s studio on at least four occasions: in 1941, 1943 (the date of this portrait), 1949 and 1960.

Why was this elderly woman photographed at her spinning wheel in Dumont’s studio? Isn’t it curious that the scene is set in a studio and not in a domestic setting? Were the light and other conditions bad in her home? Might an organization, like the Cercles des fermières, have commissioned such a beautiful portrait? Whatever the case, this photograph stands out from Marie-Alice Dumont’s other portraits of craftspeople, which, typically, were shot in a home setting and with an aesthetic that feels more like a snapshot.

This portrait of Madeleine Marquis is one of many examples of how Marie-Alice Dumont’s portraits “modernized” over her career, particularly those of women. Here, we see Mrs. Marquis relaxed, with her body, face, arms and legs pointing in different directions. Madeleine is looking at us, but at an angle. The pose is dynamic despite the subject’s seated posture.

Skill in the art of posing also means being able to shed a flattering light on the subject, taking them as they come. Simone Gagné certainly did not wear that huge fur collar for nothing! Dumont did a good job of emphasizing it in a frontal pose slightly at an angle. Miss Gagné, with her penetrating gaze, sports an elegant hairstyle. Her positioning also highlights this detail.

Marie-Alice Dumont had a small, sober-looking backdrop for portraits of people alone and of couples. She often photographed them head-on, without accessories, in a bust pose. In doing so, she followed in the footsteps of the great French photographer Nadar (1820–1910), renowned for his highly successful studio portraits of the leading figures of his time. Thanks to Dumont’s masterful art, the loved ones of Roland Thériault, a member of the Royal Canadian Air Force and a soldier in World War II, had a magnificent portrait of him to cherish while he was away at the front.

Angélina Desjardins was another person who passed through Marie-Alice Dumont’s studio several times in her life. Here, for the first time, we see her in an intriguing pose. The way she is seated on the armchair recalls the concubines who were painted throughout history as naked or scantily clad women to evoke sensuality. The resemblance is indeed striking. And yet, Miss Desjardins is just 12 years old here. This casts a doubt on the intentions of the photographer, who was raised in a very conservative milieu and known herself to lecture young people about such mores. Yet, the girl’s gaze does not convey (or seek to convey) sensuality: rather, it’s gentle and innocent. It is tempting, therefore, to attribute it to coincidence or to say that Dumont simply was not aware of the concubines.

Here we see Angélina Desjardins, once again before Dumont’s lens. Four years had passed, and she had become a young woman of 16. The visual style of this portrait is completely different from the previous one. The subject posed in bust form. In the manner of Hollywood stars of the time, her torso is slightly at an angle, while her face is aimed directly at the camera, lending movement to the portrait. The young woman’s makeup and attire appear flirtatious, especially the huge velvet bow in her hair. Angélina’s gaze is direct, frank, intense and confident. It has nothing of the innocent child’s gaze she donned in the previous portrait.

In family portraits taken in the studio, individuals were often placed in such a way as to reflect their position in the family. Here, Daria and Origène Dumont’s five oldest children are placed in order of their birth and, by happy circumstance, by height. Françoise, the oldest, is on the far left. Jean-Paul, Céline, Nicole and Gérard follow in succession.

Photographing children who had just passed their solemn communion or confirmation is another kind of ceremony with well-defined codes. Like in this portrait of Réal Beaupré, Dumont’s nephew, the communicants would leave their childhood garb behind to pose in suit and tie. Boys also wore a white armband, symbolizing innocence and purity. They would also hold a rolled certificate in their hands. Finally, one or more white lilies rounded out the decor.

Pitre Bouchard once again visited the small Saint-Alexandre studio. Dressed in his best suit, he posed with his couvre-chef and then again without it. When in the lens with his wife and many children, he never wore a hat; but, when he was alone in front of the camera, he allowed himself the choice. The cap we see here suited him particularly well. Its slight tilt on his head echoes the angle formed by the subject’s equally inclined shoulders. Mr. Bouchard is not standing quite straight either: rather than holding himself up tall, shoulders slightly rolled back, he appears here slightly hunched over. The effect is not necessarily bad! It gives him a relaxed, natural look that goes well with his slightly drooping eyes. Dumont had a gift for producing portraits packed with personality.

It was not unusual for Dumont’s clients to pose in a work uniform. Indeed, many people trusted Marie-Alice Dumont to make them an attractive professional portrait. The example of Eugénie Lavoie, a nurse, illustrates this. Might she have been one of the nurses who cared for the photographer during her long hospitalization in 1936?

This is possibly Marie-Alice Dumont’s first self-portrait, taken when she was about 30 years old. She was then living in the family home on the 5e Rang. Why did she take this photograph of herself? Was it a practice photo before she welcomed her first clients? Did she want to test the camera’s focus? Maybe she was attempting to perfect her bust portrait technique? Or experimenting with light and a slightly turned posture? Was the budding photographer trying to find her identity as a professional and an artist? Perhaps she sought, also, to carve out a place for herself in the world? Her whole life, Marie-Alice photographed others. A self-portrait like this one was a way of saying, “I, too, exist.”

Here, Marie-Alice Dumont posed with her younger sister Elizabeth (to the right, with glasses) and two other girls, who might have been her nieces. The photographer had just set up her studio in the village centre of Saint-Alexandre. A large window had been installed on the north side, and a broad backdrop had been purchased as well: two signs that the studio was fully equipped and ready to welcome a great many clients.

Some passions, like hunting, are handed down from father to son. We can imagine that this is what Pierre Bélanger was aiming to illustrate when he brought his son, Dominique, to Studio Dumont. In a rather amusing photo shoot, the photographer took various portraits of the child dressed as a little hunter, armed with a toy rifle and looking very serious.

Marie-Alice Dumont’s archives show that she used a variety of techniques and tricks to take portraits of children that are both natural and striking. One was to get the children to interact. Here, she placed these two boys, who must have known each other well, facing one another and, presumably, she asked them to converse. She managed to catch a momentary pause in the conversation, as if they were studying each other, waiting for a reaction.

Using a toy, stuffed animal or doll is a winning strategy to make sure a child’s portrait turned out well. To put four-year-old Francine Soucy at ease, the photographer perhaps lent her a doll, asked her mother to bring one or suggested the girl pose with her special friend after seeing her with it in the studio. The portrait is very nice: Francine seems to be enjoying herself, and she flashes a big, genuine smile.

Photographs often included objects or costumes to contextualize a studio portrait. Here, the guitar held by the man and the costumes the couple are wearing clearly show that music and entertainment were part of their lives. In fact, they are none other than Anita and Édouard Castonguay, key figures on Quebec’s country music scene in the second half of the 20th century. At the time Dumont took this portrait, Édouard had just recorded his first album, and he and Anita had been touring the province with great success. With their two sons, Martin and David, they formed La Famille Castonguay, a band that enjoyed a certain notoriety. Édouard Castonguay performed his last show in Saint-Alexandre on October 8, 2005.

Described as displaying undeniable technical skill, Marie-Alice Dumont’s studio work also expressed a general comfort and trust between the photographer and her subjects. We notice, for example, that the same people were photographed many times, sometimes even over several decades. This was true of Lise Chamard, who visited the Dumont’s studio on at least four occasions: in 1941, 1943 (the date of this portrait), 1949 and 1960.

Why was this elderly woman photographed at her spinning wheel in Dumont’s studio? Isn’t it curious that the scene is set in a studio and not in a domestic setting? Were the light and other conditions bad in her home? Might an organization, like the Cercles des fermières, have commissioned such a beautiful portrait? Whatever the case, this photograph stands out from Marie-Alice Dumont’s other portraits of craftspeople, which, typically, were shot in a home setting and with an aesthetic that feels more like a snapshot.

This portrait of Madeleine Marquis is one of many examples of how Marie-Alice Dumont’s portraits “modernized” over her career, particularly those of women. Here, we see Mrs. Marquis relaxed, with her body, face, arms and legs pointing in different directions. Madeleine is looking at us, but at an angle. The pose is dynamic despite the subject’s seated posture.

Skill in the art of posing also means being able to shed a flattering light on the subject, taking them as they come. Simone Gagné certainly did not wear that huge fur collar for nothing! Dumont did a good job of emphasizing it in a frontal pose slightly at an angle. Miss Gagné, with her penetrating gaze, sports an elegant hairstyle. Her positioning also highlights this detail.

Marie-Alice Dumont had a small, sober-looking backdrop for portraits of people alone and of couples. She often photographed them head-on, without accessories, in a bust pose. In doing so, she followed in the footsteps of the great French photographer Nadar (1820–1910), renowned for his highly successful studio portraits of the leading figures of his time. Thanks to Dumont’s masterful art, the loved ones of Roland Thériault, a member of the Royal Canadian Air Force and a soldier in World War II, had a magnificent portrait of him to cherish while he was away at the front.

Angélina Desjardins was another person who passed through Marie-Alice Dumont’s studio several times in her life. Here, for the first time, we see her in an intriguing pose. The way she is seated on the armchair recalls the concubines who were painted throughout history as naked or scantily clad women to evoke sensuality. The resemblance is indeed striking. And yet, Miss Desjardins is just 12 years old here. This casts a doubt on the intentions of the photographer, who was raised in a very conservative milieu and known herself to lecture young people about such mores. Yet, the girl’s gaze does not convey (or seek to convey) sensuality: rather, it’s gentle and innocent. It is tempting, therefore, to attribute it to coincidence or to say that Dumont simply was not aware of the concubines.

Here we see Angélina Desjardins, once again before Dumont’s lens. Four years had passed, and she had become a young woman of 16. The visual style of this portrait is completely different from the previous one. The subject posed in bust form. In the manner of Hollywood stars of the time, her torso is slightly at an angle, while her face is aimed directly at the camera, lending movement to the portrait. The young woman’s makeup and attire appear flirtatious, especially the huge velvet bow in her hair. Angélina’s gaze is direct, frank, intense and confident. It has nothing of the innocent child’s gaze she donned in the previous portrait.

In family portraits taken in the studio, individuals were often placed in such a way as to reflect their position in the family. Here, Daria and Origène Dumont’s five oldest children are placed in order of their birth and, by happy circumstance, by height. Françoise, the oldest, is on the far left. Jean-Paul, Céline, Nicole and Gérard follow in succession.

Photographing children who had just passed their solemn communion or confirmation is another kind of ceremony with well-defined codes. Like in this portrait of Réal Beaupré, Dumont’s nephew, the communicants would leave their childhood garb behind to pose in suit and tie. Boys also wore a white armband, symbolizing innocence and purity. They would also hold a rolled certificate in their hands. Finally, one or more white lilies rounded out the decor.

Pitre Bouchard once again visited the small Saint-Alexandre studio. Dressed in his best suit, he posed with his couvre-chef and then again without it. When in the lens with his wife and many children, he never wore a hat; but, when he was alone in front of the camera, he allowed himself the choice. The cap we see here suited him particularly well. Its slight tilt on his head echoes the angle formed by the subject’s equally inclined shoulders. Mr. Bouchard is not standing quite straight either: rather than holding himself up tall, shoulders slightly rolled back, he appears here slightly hunched over. The effect is not necessarily bad! It gives him a relaxed, natural look that goes well with his slightly drooping eyes. Dumont had a gift for producing portraits packed with personality.

It was not unusual for Dumont’s clients to pose in a work uniform. Indeed, many people trusted Marie-Alice Dumont to make them an attractive professional portrait. The example of Eugénie Lavoie, a nurse, illustrates this. Might she have been one of the nurses who cared for the photographer during her long hospitalization in 1936?

This is possibly Marie-Alice Dumont’s first self-portrait, taken when she was about 30 years old. She was then living in the family home on the 5e Rang. Why did she take this photograph of herself? Was it a practice photo before she welcomed her first clients? Did she want to test the camera’s focus? Maybe she was attempting to perfect her bust portrait technique? Or experimenting with light and a slightly turned posture? Was the budding photographer trying to find her identity as a professional and an artist? Perhaps she sought, also, to carve out a place for herself in the world? Her whole life, Marie-Alice photographed others. A self-portrait like this one was a way of saying, “I, too, exist.”

Here, Marie-Alice Dumont posed with her younger sister Elizabeth (to the right, with glasses) and two other girls, who might have been her nieces. The photographer had just set up her studio in the village centre of Saint-Alexandre. A large window had been installed on the north side, and a broad backdrop had been purchased as well: two signs that the studio was fully equipped and ready to welcome a great many clients.

Some passions, like hunting, are handed down from father to son. We can imagine that this is what Pierre Bélanger was aiming to illustrate when he brought his son, Dominique, to Studio Dumont. In a rather amusing photo shoot, the photographer took various portraits of the child dressed as a little hunter, armed with a toy rifle and looking very serious.

Marie-Alice Dumont’s archives show that she used a variety of techniques and tricks to take portraits of children that are both natural and striking. One was to get the children to interact. Here, she placed these two boys, who must have known each other well, facing one another and, presumably, she asked them to converse. She managed to catch a momentary pause in the conversation, as if they were studying each other, waiting for a reaction.

Using a toy, stuffed animal or doll is a winning strategy to make sure a child’s portrait turned out well. To put four-year-old Francine Soucy at ease, the photographer perhaps lent her a doll, asked her mother to bring one or suggested the girl pose with her special friend after seeing her with it in the studio. The portrait is very nice: Francine seems to be enjoying herself, and she flashes a big, genuine smile.

Photographs often included objects or costumes to contextualize a studio portrait. Here, the guitar held by the man and the costumes the couple are wearing clearly show that music and entertainment were part of their lives. In fact, they are none other than Anita and Édouard Castonguay, key figures on Quebec’s country music scene in the second half of the 20th century. At the time Dumont took this portrait, Édouard had just recorded his first album, and he and Anita had been touring the province with great success. With their two sons, Martin and David, they formed La Famille Castonguay, a band that enjoyed a certain notoriety. Édouard Castonguay performed his last show in Saint-Alexandre on October 8, 2005.

Described as displaying undeniable technical skill, Marie-Alice Dumont’s studio work also expressed a general comfort and trust between the photographer and her subjects. We notice, for example, that the same people were photographed many times, sometimes even over several decades. This was true of Lise Chamard, who visited the Dumont’s studio on at least four occasions: in 1941, 1943 (the date of this portrait), 1949 and 1960.

Why was this elderly woman photographed at her spinning wheel in Dumont’s studio? Isn’t it curious that the scene is set in a studio and not in a domestic setting? Were the light and other conditions bad in her home? Might an organization, like the Cercles des fermières, have commissioned such a beautiful portrait? Whatever the case, this photograph stands out from Marie-Alice Dumont’s other portraits of craftspeople, which, typically, were shot in a home setting and with an aesthetic that feels more like a snapshot.

This portrait of Madeleine Marquis is one of many examples of how Marie-Alice Dumont’s portraits “modernized” over her career, particularly those of women. Here, we see Mrs. Marquis relaxed, with her body, face, arms and legs pointing in different directions. Madeleine is looking at us, but at an angle. The pose is dynamic despite the subject’s seated posture.

Skill in the art of posing also means being able to shed a flattering light on the subject, taking them as they come. Simone Gagné certainly did not wear that huge fur collar for nothing! Dumont did a good job of emphasizing it in a frontal pose slightly at an angle. Miss Gagné, with her penetrating gaze, sports an elegant hairstyle. Her positioning also highlights this detail.

Marie-Alice Dumont had a small, sober-looking backdrop for portraits of people alone and of couples. She often photographed them head-on, without accessories, in a bust pose. In doing so, she followed in the footsteps of the great French photographer Nadar (1820–1910), renowned for his highly successful studio portraits of the leading figures of his time. Thanks to Dumont’s masterful art, the loved ones of Roland Thériault, a member of the Royal Canadian Air Force and a soldier in World War II, had a magnificent portrait of him to cherish while he was away at the front.

Angélina Desjardins was another person who passed through Marie-Alice Dumont’s studio several times in her life. Here, for the first time, we see her in an intriguing pose. The way she is seated on the armchair recalls the concubines who were painted throughout history as naked or scantily clad women to evoke sensuality. The resemblance is indeed striking. And yet, Miss Desjardins is just 12 years old here. This casts a doubt on the intentions of the photographer, who was raised in a very conservative milieu and known herself to lecture young people about such mores. Yet, the girl’s gaze does not convey (or seek to convey) sensuality: rather, it’s gentle and innocent. It is tempting, therefore, to attribute it to coincidence or to say that Dumont simply was not aware of the concubines.

Here we see Angélina Desjardins, once again before Dumont’s lens. Four years had passed, and she had become a young woman of 16. The visual style of this portrait is completely different from the previous one. The subject posed in bust form. In the manner of Hollywood stars of the time, her torso is slightly at an angle, while her face is aimed directly at the camera, lending movement to the portrait. The young woman’s makeup and attire appear flirtatious, especially the huge velvet bow in her hair. Angélina’s gaze is direct, frank, intense and confident. It has nothing of the innocent child’s gaze she donned in the previous portrait.

In family portraits taken in the studio, individuals were often placed in such a way as to reflect their position in the family. Here, Daria and Origène Dumont’s five oldest children are placed in order of their birth and, by happy circumstance, by height. Françoise, the oldest, is on the far left. Jean-Paul, Céline, Nicole and Gérard follow in succession.

Photographing children who had just passed their solemn communion or confirmation is another kind of ceremony with well-defined codes. Like in this portrait of Réal Beaupré, Dumont’s nephew, the communicants would leave their childhood garb behind to pose in suit and tie. Boys also wore a white armband, symbolizing innocence and purity. They would also hold a rolled certificate in their hands. Finally, one or more white lilies rounded out the decor.

Pitre Bouchard once again visited the small Saint-Alexandre studio. Dressed in his best suit, he posed with his couvre-chef and then again without it. When in the lens with his wife and many children, he never wore a hat; but, when he was alone in front of the camera, he allowed himself the choice. The cap we see here suited him particularly well. Its slight tilt on his head echoes the angle formed by the subject’s equally inclined shoulders. Mr. Bouchard is not standing quite straight either: rather than holding himself up tall, shoulders slightly rolled back, he appears here slightly hunched over. The effect is not necessarily bad! It gives him a relaxed, natural look that goes well with his slightly drooping eyes. Dumont had a gift for producing portraits packed with personality.

It was not unusual for Dumont’s clients to pose in a work uniform. Indeed, many people trusted Marie-Alice Dumont to make them an attractive professional portrait. The example of Eugénie Lavoie, a nurse, illustrates this. Might she have been one of the nurses who cared for the photographer during her long hospitalization in 1936?

This is possibly Marie-Alice Dumont’s first self-portrait, taken when she was about 30 years old. She was then living in the family home on the 5e Rang. Why did she take this photograph of herself? Was it a practice photo before she welcomed her first clients? Did she want to test the camera’s focus? Maybe she was attempting to perfect her bust portrait technique? Or experimenting with light and a slightly turned posture? Was the budding photographer trying to find her identity as a professional and an artist? Perhaps she sought, also, to carve out a place for herself in the world? Her whole life, Marie-Alice photographed others. A self-portrait like this one was a way of saying, “I, too, exist.”

Here, Marie-Alice Dumont posed with her younger sister Elizabeth (to the right, with glasses) and two other girls, who might have been her nieces. The photographer had just set up her studio in the village centre of Saint-Alexandre. A large window had been installed on the north side, and a broad backdrop had been purchased as well: two signs that the studio was fully equipped and ready to welcome a great many clients.

Some passions, like hunting, are handed down from father to son. We can imagine that this is what Pierre Bélanger was aiming to illustrate when he brought his son, Dominique, to Studio Dumont. In a rather amusing photo shoot, the photographer took various portraits of the child dressed as a little hunter, armed with a toy rifle and looking very serious.

Marie-Alice Dumont’s archives show that she used a variety of techniques and tricks to take portraits of children that are both natural and striking. One was to get the children to interact. Here, she placed these two boys, who must have known each other well, facing one another and, presumably, she asked them to converse. She managed to catch a momentary pause in the conversation, as if they were studying each other, waiting for a reaction.

Using a toy, stuffed animal or doll is a winning strategy to make sure a child’s portrait turned out well. To put four-year-old Francine Soucy at ease, the photographer perhaps lent her a doll, asked her mother to bring one or suggested the girl pose with her special friend after seeing her with it in the studio. The portrait is very nice: Francine seems to be enjoying herself, and she flashes a big, genuine smile.

Photographs often included objects or costumes to contextualize a studio portrait. Here, the guitar held by the man and the costumes the couple are wearing clearly show that music and entertainment were part of their lives. In fact, they are none other than Anita and Édouard Castonguay, key figures on Quebec’s country music scene in the second half of the 20th century. At the time Dumont took this portrait, Édouard had just recorded his first album, and he and Anita had been touring the province with great success. With their two sons, Martin and David, they formed La Famille Castonguay, a band that enjoyed a certain notoriety. Édouard Castonguay performed his last show in Saint-Alexandre on October 8, 2005.

Described as displaying undeniable technical skill, Marie-Alice Dumont’s studio work also expressed a general comfort and trust between the photographer and her subjects. We notice, for example, that the same people were photographed many times, sometimes even over several decades. This was true of Lise Chamard, who visited the Dumont’s studio on at least four occasions: in 1941, 1943 (the date of this portrait), 1949 and 1960.

Why was this elderly woman photographed at her spinning wheel in Dumont’s studio? Isn’t it curious that the scene is set in a studio and not in a domestic setting? Were the light and other conditions bad in her home? Might an organization, like the Cercles des fermières, have commissioned such a beautiful portrait? Whatever the case, this photograph stands out from Marie-Alice Dumont’s other portraits of craftspeople, which, typically, were shot in a home setting and with an aesthetic that feels more like a snapshot.

This portrait of Madeleine Marquis is one of many examples of how Marie-Alice Dumont’s portraits “modernized” over her career, particularly those of women. Here, we see Mrs. Marquis relaxed, with her body, face, arms and legs pointing in different directions. Madeleine is looking at us, but at an angle. The pose is dynamic despite the subject’s seated posture.

Skill in the art of posing also means being able to shed a flattering light on the subject, taking them as they come. Simone Gagné certainly did not wear that huge fur collar for nothing! Dumont did a good job of emphasizing it in a frontal pose slightly at an angle. Miss Gagné, with her penetrating gaze, sports an elegant hairstyle. Her positioning also highlights this detail.

Marie-Alice Dumont had a small, sober-looking backdrop for portraits of people alone and of couples. She often photographed them head-on, without accessories, in a bust pose. In doing so, she followed in the footsteps of the great French photographer Nadar (1820–1910), renowned for his highly successful studio portraits of the leading figures of his time. Thanks to Dumont’s masterful art, the loved ones of Roland Thériault, a member of the Royal Canadian Air Force and a soldier in World War II, had a magnificent portrait of him to cherish while he was away at the front.

Angélina Desjardins was another person who passed through Marie-Alice Dumont’s studio several times in her life. Here, for the first time, we see her in an intriguing pose. The way she is seated on the armchair recalls the concubines who were painted throughout history as naked or scantily clad women to evoke sensuality. The resemblance is indeed striking. And yet, Miss Desjardins is just 12 years old here. This casts a doubt on the intentions of the photographer, who was raised in a very conservative milieu and known herself to lecture young people about such mores. Yet, the girl’s gaze does not convey (or seek to convey) sensuality: rather, it’s gentle and innocent. It is tempting, therefore, to attribute it to coincidence or to say that Dumont simply was not aware of the concubines.

Here we see Angélina Desjardins, once again before Dumont’s lens. Four years had passed, and she had become a young woman of 16. The visual style of this portrait is completely different from the previous one. The subject posed in bust form. In the manner of Hollywood stars of the time, her torso is slightly at an angle, while her face is aimed directly at the camera, lending movement to the portrait. The young woman’s makeup and attire appear flirtatious, especially the huge velvet bow in her hair. Angélina’s gaze is direct, frank, intense and confident. It has nothing of the innocent child’s gaze she donned in the previous portrait.

In family portraits taken in the studio, individuals were often placed in such a way as to reflect their position in the family. Here, Daria and Origène Dumont’s five oldest children are placed in order of their birth and, by happy circumstance, by height. Françoise, the oldest, is on the far left. Jean-Paul, Céline, Nicole and Gérard follow in succession.

Photographing children who had just passed their solemn communion or confirmation is another kind of ceremony with well-defined codes. Like in this portrait of Réal Beaupré, Dumont’s nephew, the communicants would leave their childhood garb behind to pose in suit and tie. Boys also wore a white armband, symbolizing innocence and purity. They would also hold a rolled certificate in their hands. Finally, one or more white lilies rounded out the decor.

Pitre Bouchard once again visited the small Saint-Alexandre studio. Dressed in his best suit, he posed with his couvre-chef and then again without it. When in the lens with his wife and many children, he never wore a hat; but, when he was alone in front of the camera, he allowed himself the choice. The cap we see here suited him particularly well. Its slight tilt on his head echoes the angle formed by the subject’s equally inclined shoulders. Mr. Bouchard is not standing quite straight either: rather than holding himself up tall, shoulders slightly rolled back, he appears here slightly hunched over. The effect is not necessarily bad! It gives him a relaxed, natural look that goes well with his slightly drooping eyes. Dumont had a gift for producing portraits packed with personality.

It was not unusual for Dumont’s clients to pose in a work uniform. Indeed, many people trusted Marie-Alice Dumont to make them an attractive professional portrait. The example of Eugénie Lavoie, a nurse, illustrates this. Might she have been one of the nurses who cared for the photographer during her long hospitalization in 1936?

This is possibly Marie-Alice Dumont’s first self-portrait, taken when she was about 30 years old. She was then living in the family home on the 5e Rang. Why did she take this photograph of herself? Was it a practice photo before she welcomed her first clients? Did she want to test the camera’s focus? Maybe she was attempting to perfect her bust portrait technique? Or experimenting with light and a slightly turned posture? Was the budding photographer trying to find her identity as a professional and an artist? Perhaps she sought, also, to carve out a place for herself in the world? Her whole life, Marie-Alice photographed others. A self-portrait like this one was a way of saying, “I, too, exist.”

Here, Marie-Alice Dumont posed with her younger sister Elizabeth (to the right, with glasses) and two other girls, who might have been her nieces. The photographer had just set up her studio in the village centre of Saint-Alexandre. A large window had been installed on the north side, and a broad backdrop had been purchased as well: two signs that the studio was fully equipped and ready to welcome a great many clients.

Some passions, like hunting, are handed down from father to son. We can imagine that this is what Pierre Bélanger was aiming to illustrate when he brought his son, Dominique, to Studio Dumont. In a rather amusing photo shoot, the photographer took various portraits of the child dressed as a little hunter, armed with a toy rifle and looking very serious.

Marie-Alice Dumont’s archives show that she used a variety of techniques and tricks to take portraits of children that are both natural and striking. One was to get the children to interact. Here, she placed these two boys, who must have known each other well, facing one another and, presumably, she asked them to converse. She managed to catch a momentary pause in the conversation, as if they were studying each other, waiting for a reaction.

Using a toy, stuffed animal or doll is a winning strategy to make sure a child’s portrait turned out well. To put four-year-old Francine Soucy at ease, the photographer perhaps lent her a doll, asked her mother to bring one or suggested the girl pose with her special friend after seeing her with it in the studio. The portrait is very nice: Francine seems to be enjoying herself, and she flashes a big, genuine smile.

Photographs often included objects or costumes to contextualize a studio portrait. Here, the guitar held by the man and the costumes the couple are wearing clearly show that music and entertainment were part of their lives. In fact, they are none other than Anita and Édouard Castonguay, key figures on Quebec’s country music scene in the second half of the 20th century. At the time Dumont took this portrait, Édouard had just recorded his first album, and he and Anita had been touring the province with great success. With their two sons, Martin and David, they formed La Famille Castonguay, a band that enjoyed a certain notoriety. Édouard Castonguay performed his last show in Saint-Alexandre on October 8, 2005.

Described as displaying undeniable technical skill, Marie-Alice Dumont’s studio work also expressed a general comfort and trust between the photographer and her subjects. We notice, for example, that the same people were photographed many times, sometimes even over several decades. This was true of Lise Chamard, who visited the Dumont’s studio on at least four occasions: in 1941, 1943 (the date of this portrait), 1949 and 1960.

Why was this elderly woman photographed at her spinning wheel in Dumont’s studio? Isn’t it curious that the scene is set in a studio and not in a domestic setting? Were the light and other conditions bad in her home? Might an organization, like the Cercles des fermières, have commissioned such a beautiful portrait? Whatever the case, this photograph stands out from Marie-Alice Dumont’s other portraits of craftspeople, which, typically, were shot in a home setting and with an aesthetic that feels more like a snapshot.

This portrait of Madeleine Marquis is one of many examples of how Marie-Alice Dumont’s portraits “modernized” over her career, particularly those of women. Here, we see Mrs. Marquis relaxed, with her body, face, arms and legs pointing in different directions. Madeleine is looking at us, but at an angle. The pose is dynamic despite the subject’s seated posture.

Skill in the art of posing also means being able to shed a flattering light on the subject, taking them as they come. Simone Gagné certainly did not wear that huge fur collar for nothing! Dumont did a good job of emphasizing it in a frontal pose slightly at an angle. Miss Gagné, with her penetrating gaze, sports an elegant hairstyle. Her positioning also highlights this detail.

Marie-Alice Dumont had a small, sober-looking backdrop for portraits of people alone and of couples. She often photographed them head-on, without accessories, in a bust pose. In doing so, she followed in the footsteps of the great French photographer Nadar (1820–1910), renowned for his highly successful studio portraits of the leading figures of his time. Thanks to Dumont’s masterful art, the loved ones of Roland Thériault, a member of the Royal Canadian Air Force and a soldier in World War II, had a magnificent portrait of him to cherish while he was away at the front.

Angélina Desjardins was another person who passed through Marie-Alice Dumont’s studio several times in her life. Here, for the first time, we see her in an intriguing pose. The way she is seated on the armchair recalls the concubines who were painted throughout history as naked or scantily clad women to evoke sensuality. The resemblance is indeed striking. And yet, Miss Desjardins is just 12 years old here. This casts a doubt on the intentions of the photographer, who was raised in a very conservative milieu and known herself to lecture young people about such mores. Yet, the girl’s gaze does not convey (or seek to convey) sensuality: rather, it’s gentle and innocent. It is tempting, therefore, to attribute it to coincidence or to say that Dumont simply was not aware of the concubines.

Here we see Angélina Desjardins, once again before Dumont’s lens. Four years had passed, and she had become a young woman of 16. The visual style of this portrait is completely different from the previous one. The subject posed in bust form. In the manner of Hollywood stars of the time, her torso is slightly at an angle, while her face is aimed directly at the camera, lending movement to the portrait. The young woman’s makeup and attire appear flirtatious, especially the huge velvet bow in her hair. Angélina’s gaze is direct, frank, intense and confident. It has nothing of the innocent child’s gaze she donned in the previous portrait.

In family portraits taken in the studio, individuals were often placed in such a way as to reflect their position in the family. Here, Daria and Origène Dumont’s five oldest children are placed in order of their birth and, by happy circumstance, by height. Françoise, the oldest, is on the far left. Jean-Paul, Céline, Nicole and Gérard follow in succession.

Photographing children who had just passed their solemn communion or confirmation is another kind of ceremony with well-defined codes. Like in this portrait of Réal Beaupré, Dumont’s nephew, the communicants would leave their childhood garb behind to pose in suit and tie. Boys also wore a white armband, symbolizing innocence and purity. They would also hold a rolled certificate in their hands. Finally, one or more white lilies rounded out the decor.

Pitre Bouchard once again visited the small Saint-Alexandre studio. Dressed in his best suit, he posed with his couvre-chef and then again without it. When in the lens with his wife and many children, he never wore a hat; but, when he was alone in front of the camera, he allowed himself the choice. The cap we see here suited him particularly well. Its slight tilt on his head echoes the angle formed by the subject’s equally inclined shoulders. Mr. Bouchard is not standing quite straight either: rather than holding himself up tall, shoulders slightly rolled back, he appears here slightly hunched over. The effect is not necessarily bad! It gives him a relaxed, natural look that goes well with his slightly drooping eyes. Dumont had a gift for producing portraits packed with personality.

It was not unusual for Dumont’s clients to pose in a work uniform. Indeed, many people trusted Marie-Alice Dumont to make them an attractive professional portrait. The example of Eugénie Lavoie, a nurse, illustrates this. Might she have been one of the nurses who cared for the photographer during her long hospitalization in 1936?

This is possibly Marie-Alice Dumont’s first self-portrait, taken when she was about 30 years old. She was then living in the family home on the 5e Rang. Why did she take this photograph of herself? Was it a practice photo before she welcomed her first clients? Did she want to test the camera’s focus? Maybe she was attempting to perfect her bust portrait technique? Or experimenting with light and a slightly turned posture? Was the budding photographer trying to find her identity as a professional and an artist? Perhaps she sought, also, to carve out a place for herself in the world? Her whole life, Marie-Alice photographed others. A self-portrait like this one was a way of saying, “I, too, exist.”

Here, Marie-Alice Dumont posed with her younger sister Elizabeth (to the right, with glasses) and two other girls, who might have been her nieces. The photographer had just set up her studio in the village centre of Saint-Alexandre. A large window had been installed on the north side, and a broad backdrop had been purchased as well: two signs that the studio was fully equipped and ready to welcome a great many clients.

Some passions, like hunting, are handed down from father to son. We can imagine that this is what Pierre Bélanger was aiming to illustrate when he brought his son, Dominique, to Studio Dumont. In a rather amusing photo shoot, the photographer took various portraits of the child dressed as a little hunter, armed with a toy rifle and looking very serious.

Marie-Alice Dumont’s archives show that she used a variety of techniques and tricks to take portraits of children that are both natural and striking. One was to get the children to interact. Here, she placed these two boys, who must have known each other well, facing one another and, presumably, she asked them to converse. She managed to catch a momentary pause in the conversation, as if they were studying each other, waiting for a reaction.

Using a toy, stuffed animal or doll is a winning strategy to make sure a child’s portrait turned out well. To put four-year-old Francine Soucy at ease, the photographer perhaps lent her a doll, asked her mother to bring one or suggested the girl pose with her special friend after seeing her with it in the studio. The portrait is very nice: Francine seems to be enjoying herself, and she flashes a big, genuine smile.

Photographs often included objects or costumes to contextualize a studio portrait. Here, the guitar held by the man and the costumes the couple are wearing clearly show that music and entertainment were part of their lives. In fact, they are none other than Anita and Édouard Castonguay, key figures on Quebec’s country music scene in the second half of the 20th century. At the time Dumont took this portrait, Édouard had just recorded his first album, and he and Anita had been touring the province with great success. With their two sons, Martin and David, they formed La Famille Castonguay, a band that enjoyed a certain notoriety. Édouard Castonguay performed his last show in Saint-Alexandre on October 8, 2005.

Described as displaying undeniable technical skill, Marie-Alice Dumont’s studio work also expressed a general comfort and trust between the photographer and her subjects. We notice, for example, that the same people were photographed many times, sometimes even over several decades. This was true of Lise Chamard, who visited the Dumont’s studio on at least four occasions: in 1941, 1943 (the date of this portrait), 1949 and 1960.

Why was this elderly woman photographed at her spinning wheel in Dumont’s studio? Isn’t it curious that the scene is set in a studio and not in a domestic setting? Were the light and other conditions bad in her home? Might an organization, like the Cercles des fermières, have commissioned such a beautiful portrait? Whatever the case, this photograph stands out from Marie-Alice Dumont’s other portraits of craftspeople, which, typically, were shot in a home setting and with an aesthetic that feels more like a snapshot.

This portrait of Madeleine Marquis is one of many examples of how Marie-Alice Dumont’s portraits “modernized” over her career, particularly those of women. Here, we see Mrs. Marquis relaxed, with her body, face, arms and legs pointing in different directions. Madeleine is looking at us, but at an angle. The pose is dynamic despite the subject’s seated posture.

Skill in the art of posing also means being able to shed a flattering light on the subject, taking them as they come. Simone Gagné certainly did not wear that huge fur collar for nothing! Dumont did a good job of emphasizing it in a frontal pose slightly at an angle. Miss Gagné, with her penetrating gaze, sports an elegant hairstyle. Her positioning also highlights this detail.

Marie-Alice Dumont had a small, sober-looking backdrop for portraits of people alone and of couples. She often photographed them head-on, without accessories, in a bust pose. In doing so, she followed in the footsteps of the great French photographer Nadar (1820–1910), renowned for his highly successful studio portraits of the leading figures of his time. Thanks to Dumont’s masterful art, the loved ones of Roland Thériault, a member of the Royal Canadian Air Force and a soldier in World War II, had a magnificent portrait of him to cherish while he was away at the front.

Angélina Desjardins was another person who passed through Marie-Alice Dumont’s studio several times in her life. Here, for the first time, we see her in an intriguing pose. The way she is seated on the armchair recalls the concubines who were painted throughout history as naked or scantily clad women to evoke sensuality. The resemblance is indeed striking. And yet, Miss Desjardins is just 12 years old here. This casts a doubt on the intentions of the photographer, who was raised in a very conservative milieu and known herself to lecture young people about such mores. Yet, the girl’s gaze does not convey (or seek to convey) sensuality: rather, it’s gentle and innocent. It is tempting, therefore, to attribute it to coincidence or to say that Dumont simply was not aware of the concubines.

Here we see Angélina Desjardins, once again before Dumont’s lens. Four years had passed, and she had become a young woman of 16. The visual style of this portrait is completely different from the previous one. The subject posed in bust form. In the manner of Hollywood stars of the time, her torso is slightly at an angle, while her face is aimed directly at the camera, lending movement to the portrait. The young woman’s makeup and attire appear flirtatious, especially the huge velvet bow in her hair. Angélina’s gaze is direct, frank, intense and confident. It has nothing of the innocent child’s gaze she donned in the previous portrait.

In family portraits taken in the studio, individuals were often placed in such a way as to reflect their position in the family. Here, Daria and Origène Dumont’s five oldest children are placed in order of their birth and, by happy circumstance, by height. Françoise, the oldest, is on the far left. Jean-Paul, Céline, Nicole and Gérard follow in succession.

Photographing children who had just passed their solemn communion or confirmation is another kind of ceremony with well-defined codes. Like in this portrait of Réal Beaupré, Dumont’s nephew, the communicants would leave their childhood garb behind to pose in suit and tie. Boys also wore a white armband, symbolizing innocence and purity. They would also hold a rolled certificate in their hands. Finally, one or more white lilies rounded out the decor.

Pitre Bouchard once again visited the small Saint-Alexandre studio. Dressed in his best suit, he posed with his couvre-chef and then again without it. When in the lens with his wife and many children, he never wore a hat; but, when he was alone in front of the camera, he allowed himself the choice. The cap we see here suited him particularly well. Its slight tilt on his head echoes the angle formed by the subject’s equally inclined shoulders. Mr. Bouchard is not standing quite straight either: rather than holding himself up tall, shoulders slightly rolled back, he appears here slightly hunched over. The effect is not necessarily bad! It gives him a relaxed, natural look that goes well with his slightly drooping eyes. Dumont had a gift for producing portraits packed with personality.

It was not unusual for Dumont’s clients to pose in a work uniform. Indeed, many people trusted Marie-Alice Dumont to make them an attractive professional portrait. The example of Eugénie Lavoie, a nurse, illustrates this. Might she have been one of the nurses who cared for the photographer during her long hospitalization in 1936?

This is possibly Marie-Alice Dumont’s first self-portrait, taken when she was about 30 years old. She was then living in the family home on the 5e Rang. Why did she take this photograph of herself? Was it a practice photo before she welcomed her first clients? Did she want to test the camera’s focus? Maybe she was attempting to perfect her bust portrait technique? Or experimenting with light and a slightly turned posture? Was the budding photographer trying to find her identity as a professional and an artist? Perhaps she sought, also, to carve out a place for herself in the world? Her whole life, Marie-Alice photographed others. A self-portrait like this one was a way of saying, “I, too, exist.”

Here, Marie-Alice Dumont posed with her younger sister Elizabeth (to the right, with glasses) and two other girls, who might have been her nieces. The photographer had just set up her studio in the village centre of Saint-Alexandre. A large window had been installed on the north side, and a broad backdrop had been purchased as well: two signs that the studio was fully equipped and ready to welcome a great many clients.

Some passions, like hunting, are handed down from father to son. We can imagine that this is what Pierre Bélanger was aiming to illustrate when he brought his son, Dominique, to Studio Dumont. In a rather amusing photo shoot, the photographer took various portraits of the child dressed as a little hunter, armed with a toy rifle and looking very serious.

Marie-Alice Dumont’s archives show that she used a variety of techniques and tricks to take portraits of children that are both natural and striking. One was to get the children to interact. Here, she placed these two boys, who must have known each other well, facing one another and, presumably, she asked them to converse. She managed to catch a momentary pause in the conversation, as if they were studying each other, waiting for a reaction.

Using a toy, stuffed animal or doll is a winning strategy to make sure a child’s portrait turned out well. To put four-year-old Francine Soucy at ease, the photographer perhaps lent her a doll, asked her mother to bring one or suggested the girl pose with her special friend after seeing her with it in the studio. The portrait is very nice: Francine seems to be enjoying herself, and she flashes a big, genuine smile.

Photographs often included objects or costumes to contextualize a studio portrait. Here, the guitar held by the man and the costumes the couple are wearing clearly show that music and entertainment were part of their lives. In fact, they are none other than Anita and Édouard Castonguay, key figures on Quebec’s country music scene in the second half of the 20th century. At the time Dumont took this portrait, Édouard had just recorded his first album, and he and Anita had been touring the province with great success. With their two sons, Martin and David, they formed La Famille Castonguay, a band that enjoyed a certain notoriety. Édouard Castonguay performed his last show in Saint-Alexandre on October 8, 2005.

Described as displaying undeniable technical skill, Marie-Alice Dumont’s studio work also expressed a general comfort and trust between the photographer and her subjects. We notice, for example, that the same people were photographed many times, sometimes even over several decades. This was true of Lise Chamard, who visited the Dumont’s studio on at least four occasions: in 1941, 1943 (the date of this portrait), 1949 and 1960.

Why was this elderly woman photographed at her spinning wheel in Dumont’s studio? Isn’t it curious that the scene is set in a studio and not in a domestic setting? Were the light and other conditions bad in her home? Might an organization, like the Cercles des fermières, have commissioned such a beautiful portrait? Whatever the case, this photograph stands out from Marie-Alice Dumont’s other portraits of craftspeople, which, typically, were shot in a home setting and with an aesthetic that feels more like a snapshot.

This portrait of Madeleine Marquis is one of many examples of how Marie-Alice Dumont’s portraits “modernized” over her career, particularly those of women. Here, we see Mrs. Marquis relaxed, with her body, face, arms and legs pointing in different directions. Madeleine is looking at us, but at an angle. The pose is dynamic despite the subject’s seated posture.

Skill in the art of posing also means being able to shed a flattering light on the subject, taking them as they come. Simone Gagné certainly did not wear that huge fur collar for nothing! Dumont did a good job of emphasizing it in a frontal pose slightly at an angle. Miss Gagné, with her penetrating gaze, sports an elegant hairstyle. Her positioning also highlights this detail.

Marie-Alice Dumont had a small, sober-looking backdrop for portraits of people alone and of couples. She often photographed them head-on, without accessories, in a bust pose. In doing so, she followed in the footsteps of the great French photographer Nadar (1820–1910), renowned for his highly successful studio portraits of the leading figures of his time. Thanks to Dumont’s masterful art, the loved ones of Roland Thériault, a member of the Royal Canadian Air Force and a soldier in World War II, had a magnificent portrait of him to cherish while he was away at the front.

Angélina Desjardins was another person who passed through Marie-Alice Dumont’s studio several times in her life. Here, for the first time, we see her in an intriguing pose. The way she is seated on the armchair recalls the concubines who were painted throughout history as naked or scantily clad women to evoke sensuality. The resemblance is indeed striking. And yet, Miss Desjardins is just 12 years old here. This casts a doubt on the intentions of the photographer, who was raised in a very conservative milieu and known herself to lecture young people about such mores. Yet, the girl’s gaze does not convey (or seek to convey) sensuality: rather, it’s gentle and innocent. It is tempting, therefore, to attribute it to coincidence or to say that Dumont simply was not aware of the concubines.

Here we see Angélina Desjardins, once again before Dumont’s lens. Four years had passed, and she had become a young woman of 16. The visual style of this portrait is completely different from the previous one. The subject posed in bust form. In the manner of Hollywood stars of the time, her torso is slightly at an angle, while her face is aimed directly at the camera, lending movement to the portrait. The young woman’s makeup and attire appear flirtatious, especially the huge velvet bow in her hair. Angélina’s gaze is direct, frank, intense and confident. It has nothing of the innocent child’s gaze she donned in the previous portrait.

In family portraits taken in the studio, individuals were often placed in such a way as to reflect their position in the family. Here, Daria and Origène Dumont’s five oldest children are placed in order of their birth and, by happy circumstance, by height. Françoise, the oldest, is on the far left. Jean-Paul, Céline, Nicole and Gérard follow in succession.

Photographing children who had just passed their solemn communion or confirmation is another kind of ceremony with well-defined codes. Like in this portrait of Réal Beaupré, Dumont’s nephew, the communicants would leave their childhood garb behind to pose in suit and tie. Boys also wore a white armband, symbolizing innocence and purity. They would also hold a rolled certificate in their hands. Finally, one or more white lilies rounded out the decor.

Pitre Bouchard once again visited the small Saint-Alexandre studio. Dressed in his best suit, he posed with his couvre-chef and then again without it. When in the lens with his wife and many children, he never wore a hat; but, when he was alone in front of the camera, he allowed himself the choice. The cap we see here suited him particularly well. Its slight tilt on his head echoes the angle formed by the subject’s equally inclined shoulders. Mr. Bouchard is not standing quite straight either: rather than holding himself up tall, shoulders slightly rolled back, he appears here slightly hunched over. The effect is not necessarily bad! It gives him a relaxed, natural look that goes well with his slightly drooping eyes. Dumont had a gift for producing portraits packed with personality.

It was not unusual for Dumont’s clients to pose in a work uniform. Indeed, many people trusted Marie-Alice Dumont to make them an attractive professional portrait. The example of Eugénie Lavoie, a nurse, illustrates this. Might she have been one of the nurses who cared for the photographer during her long hospitalization in 1936?

This is possibly Marie-Alice Dumont’s first self-portrait, taken when she was about 30 years old. She was then living in the family home on the 5e Rang. Why did she take this photograph of herself? Was it a practice photo before she welcomed her first clients? Did she want to test the camera’s focus? Maybe she was attempting to perfect her bust portrait technique? Or experimenting with light and a slightly turned posture? Was the budding photographer trying to find her identity as a professional and an artist? Perhaps she sought, also, to carve out a place for herself in the world? Her whole life, Marie-Alice photographed others. A self-portrait like this one was a way of saying, “I, too, exist.”

Here, Marie-Alice Dumont posed with her younger sister Elizabeth (to the right, with glasses) and two other girls, who might have been her nieces. The photographer had just set up her studio in the village centre of Saint-Alexandre. A large window had been installed on the north side, and a broad backdrop had been purchased as well: two signs that the studio was fully equipped and ready to welcome a great many clients.

Some passions, like hunting, are handed down from father to son. We can imagine that this is what Pierre Bélanger was aiming to illustrate when he brought his son, Dominique, to Studio Dumont. In a rather amusing photo shoot, the photographer took various portraits of the child dressed as a little hunter, armed with a toy rifle and looking very serious.

Marie-Alice Dumont’s archives show that she used a variety of techniques and tricks to take portraits of children that are both natural and striking. One was to get the children to interact. Here, she placed these two boys, who must have known each other well, facing one another and, presumably, she asked them to converse. She managed to catch a momentary pause in the conversation, as if they were studying each other, waiting for a reaction.

Using a toy, stuffed animal or doll is a winning strategy to make sure a child’s portrait turned out well. To put four-year-old Francine Soucy at ease, the photographer perhaps lent her a doll, asked her mother to bring one or suggested the girl pose with her special friend after seeing her with it in the studio. The portrait is very nice: Francine seems to be enjoying herself, and she flashes a big, genuine smile.

Photographs often included objects or costumes to contextualize a studio portrait. Here, the guitar held by the man and the costumes the couple are wearing clearly show that music and entertainment were part of their lives. In fact, they are none other than Anita and Édouard Castonguay, key figures on Quebec’s country music scene in the second half of the 20th century. At the time Dumont took this portrait, Édouard had just recorded his first album, and he and Anita had been touring the province with great success. With their two sons, Martin and David, they formed La Famille Castonguay, a band that enjoyed a certain notoriety. Édouard Castonguay performed his last show in Saint-Alexandre on October 8, 2005.

Described as displaying undeniable technical skill, Marie-Alice Dumont’s studio work also expressed a general comfort and trust between the photographer and her subjects. We notice, for example, that the same people were photographed many times, sometimes even over several decades. This was true of Lise Chamard, who visited the Dumont’s studio on at least four occasions: in 1941, 1943 (the date of this portrait), 1949 and 1960.

Why was this elderly woman photographed at her spinning wheel in Dumont’s studio? Isn’t it curious that the scene is set in a studio and not in a domestic setting? Were the light and other conditions bad in her home? Might an organization, like the Cercles des fermières, have commissioned such a beautiful portrait? Whatever the case, this photograph stands out from Marie-Alice Dumont’s other portraits of craftspeople, which, typically, were shot in a home setting and with an aesthetic that feels more like a snapshot.

This portrait of Madeleine Marquis is one of many examples of how Marie-Alice Dumont’s portraits “modernized” over her career, particularly those of women. Here, we see Mrs. Marquis relaxed, with her body, face, arms and legs pointing in different directions. Madeleine is looking at us, but at an angle. The pose is dynamic despite the subject’s seated posture.

Skill in the art of posing also means being able to shed a flattering light on the subject, taking them as they come. Simone Gagné certainly did not wear that huge fur collar for nothing! Dumont did a good job of emphasizing it in a frontal pose slightly at an angle. Miss Gagné, with her penetrating gaze, sports an elegant hairstyle. Her positioning also highlights this detail.

Marie-Alice Dumont had a small, sober-looking backdrop for portraits of people alone and of couples. She often photographed them head-on, without accessories, in a bust pose. In doing so, she followed in the footsteps of the great French photographer Nadar (1820–1910), renowned for his highly successful studio portraits of the leading figures of his time. Thanks to Dumont’s masterful art, the loved ones of Roland Thériault, a member of the Royal Canadian Air Force and a soldier in World War II, had a magnificent portrait of him to cherish while he was away at the front.

Angélina Desjardins was another person who passed through Marie-Alice Dumont’s studio several times in her life. Here, for the first time, we see her in an intriguing pose. The way she is seated on the armchair recalls the concubines who were painted throughout history as naked or scantily clad women to evoke sensuality. The resemblance is indeed striking. And yet, Miss Desjardins is just 12 years old here. This casts a doubt on the intentions of the photographer, who was raised in a very conservative milieu and known herself to lecture young people about such mores. Yet, the girl’s gaze does not convey (or seek to convey) sensuality: rather, it’s gentle and innocent. It is tempting, therefore, to attribute it to coincidence or to say that Dumont simply was not aware of the concubines.

Here we see Angélina Desjardins, once again before Dumont’s lens. Four years had passed, and she had become a young woman of 16. The visual style of this portrait is completely different from the previous one. The subject posed in bust form. In the manner of Hollywood stars of the time, her torso is slightly at an angle, while her face is aimed directly at the camera, lending movement to the portrait. The young woman’s makeup and attire appear flirtatious, especially the huge velvet bow in her hair. Angélina’s gaze is direct, frank, intense and confident. It has nothing of the innocent child’s gaze she donned in the previous portrait.

In family portraits taken in the studio, individuals were often placed in such a way as to reflect their position in the family. Here, Daria and Origène Dumont’s five oldest children are placed in order of their birth and, by happy circumstance, by height. Françoise, the oldest, is on the far left. Jean-Paul, Céline, Nicole and Gérard follow in succession.

Photographing children who had just passed their solemn communion or confirmation is another kind of ceremony with well-defined codes. Like in this portrait of Réal Beaupré, Dumont’s nephew, the communicants would leave their childhood garb behind to pose in suit and tie. Boys also wore a white armband, symbolizing innocence and purity. They would also hold a rolled certificate in their hands. Finally, one or more white lilies rounded out the decor.

Pitre Bouchard once again visited the small Saint-Alexandre studio. Dressed in his best suit, he posed with his couvre-chef and then again without it. When in the lens with his wife and many children, he never wore a hat; but, when he was alone in front of the camera, he allowed himself the choice. The cap we see here suited him particularly well. Its slight tilt on his head echoes the angle formed by the subject’s equally inclined shoulders. Mr. Bouchard is not standing quite straight either: rather than holding himself up tall, shoulders slightly rolled back, he appears here slightly hunched over. The effect is not necessarily bad! It gives him a relaxed, natural look that goes well with his slightly drooping eyes. Dumont had a gift for producing portraits packed with personality.

It was not unusual for Dumont’s clients to pose in a work uniform. Indeed, many people trusted Marie-Alice Dumont to make them an attractive professional portrait. The example of Eugénie Lavoie, a nurse, illustrates this. Might she have been one of the nurses who cared for the photographer during her long hospitalization in 1936?

This is possibly Marie-Alice Dumont’s first self-portrait, taken when she was about 30 years old. She was then living in the family home on the 5e Rang. Why did she take this photograph of herself? Was it a practice photo before she welcomed her first clients? Did she want to test the camera’s focus? Maybe she was attempting to perfect her bust portrait technique? Or experimenting with light and a slightly turned posture? Was the budding photographer trying to find her identity as a professional and an artist? Perhaps she sought, also, to carve out a place for herself in the world? Her whole life, Marie-Alice photographed others. A self-portrait like this one was a way of saying, “I, too, exist.”

Here, Marie-Alice Dumont posed with her younger sister Elizabeth (to the right, with glasses) and two other girls, who might have been her nieces. The photographer had just set up her studio in the village centre of Saint-Alexandre. A large window had been installed on the north side, and a broad backdrop had been purchased as well: two signs that the studio was fully equipped and ready to welcome a great many clients.

Some passions, like hunting, are handed down from father to son. We can imagine that this is what Pierre Bélanger was aiming to illustrate when he brought his son, Dominique, to Studio Dumont. In a rather amusing photo shoot, the photographer took various portraits of the child dressed as a little hunter, armed with a toy rifle and looking very serious.

Marie-Alice Dumont’s archives show that she used a variety of techniques and tricks to take portraits of children that are both natural and striking. One was to get the children to interact. Here, she placed these two boys, who must have known each other well, facing one another and, presumably, she asked them to converse. She managed to catch a momentary pause in the conversation, as if they were studying each other, waiting for a reaction.

Using a toy, stuffed animal or doll is a winning strategy to make sure a child’s portrait turned out well. To put four-year-old Francine Soucy at ease, the photographer perhaps lent her a doll, asked her mother to bring one or suggested the girl pose with her special friend after seeing her with it in the studio. The portrait is very nice: Francine seems to be enjoying herself, and she flashes a big, genuine smile.

Photographs often included objects or costumes to contextualize a studio portrait. Here, the guitar held by the man and the costumes the couple are wearing clearly show that music and entertainment were part of their lives. In fact, they are none other than Anita and Édouard Castonguay, key figures on Quebec’s country music scene in the second half of the 20th century. At the time Dumont took this portrait, Édouard had just recorded his first album, and he and Anita had been touring the province with great success. With their two sons, Martin and David, they formed La Famille Castonguay, a band that enjoyed a certain notoriety. Édouard Castonguay performed his last show in Saint-Alexandre on October 8, 2005.

Described as displaying undeniable technical skill, Marie-Alice Dumont’s studio work also expressed a general comfort and trust between the photographer and her subjects. We notice, for example, that the same people were photographed many times, sometimes even over several decades. This was true of Lise Chamard, who visited the Dumont’s studio on at least four occasions: in 1941, 1943 (the date of this portrait), 1949 and 1960.

Why was this elderly woman photographed at her spinning wheel in Dumont’s studio? Isn’t it curious that the scene is set in a studio and not in a domestic setting? Were the light and other conditions bad in her home? Might an organization, like the Cercles des fermières, have commissioned such a beautiful portrait? Whatever the case, this photograph stands out from Marie-Alice Dumont’s other portraits of craftspeople, which, typically, were shot in a home setting and with an aesthetic that feels more like a snapshot.

This portrait of Madeleine Marquis is one of many examples of how Marie-Alice Dumont’s portraits “modernized” over her career, particularly those of women. Here, we see Mrs. Marquis relaxed, with her body, face, arms and legs pointing in different directions. Madeleine is looking at us, but at an angle. The pose is dynamic despite the subject’s seated posture.

Skill in the art of posing also means being able to shed a flattering light on the subject, taking them as they come. Simone Gagné certainly did not wear that huge fur collar for nothing! Dumont did a good job of emphasizing it in a frontal pose slightly at an angle. Miss Gagné, with her penetrating gaze, sports an elegant hairstyle. Her positioning also highlights this detail.

Marie-Alice Dumont had a small, sober-looking backdrop for portraits of people alone and of couples. She often photographed them head-on, without accessories, in a bust pose. In doing so, she followed in the footsteps of the great French photographer Nadar (1820–1910), renowned for his highly successful studio portraits of the leading figures of his time. Thanks to Dumont’s masterful art, the loved ones of Roland Thériault, a member of the Royal Canadian Air Force and a soldier in World War II, had a magnificent portrait of him to cherish while he was away at the front.

Angélina Desjardins was another person who passed through Marie-Alice Dumont’s studio several times in her life. Here, for the first time, we see her in an intriguing pose. The way she is seated on the armchair recalls the concubines who were painted throughout history as naked or scantily clad women to evoke sensuality. The resemblance is indeed striking. And yet, Miss Desjardins is just 12 years old here. This casts a doubt on the intentions of the photographer, who was raised in a very conservative milieu and known herself to lecture young people about such mores. Yet, the girl’s gaze does not convey (or seek to convey) sensuality: rather, it’s gentle and innocent. It is tempting, therefore, to attribute it to coincidence or to say that Dumont simply was not aware of the concubines.

Here we see Angélina Desjardins, once again before Dumont’s lens. Four years had passed, and she had become a young woman of 16. The visual style of this portrait is completely different from the previous one. The subject posed in bust form. In the manner of Hollywood stars of the time, her torso is slightly at an angle, while her face is aimed directly at the camera, lending movement to the portrait. The young woman’s makeup and attire appear flirtatious, especially the huge velvet bow in her hair. Angélina’s gaze is direct, frank, intense and confident. It has nothing of the innocent child’s gaze she donned in the previous portrait.

In family portraits taken in the studio, individuals were often placed in such a way as to reflect their position in the family. Here, Daria and Origène Dumont’s five oldest children are placed in order of their birth and, by happy circumstance, by height. Françoise, the oldest, is on the far left. Jean-Paul, Céline, Nicole and Gérard follow in succession.

Photographing children who had just passed their solemn communion or confirmation is another kind of ceremony with well-defined codes. Like in this portrait of Réal Beaupré, Dumont’s nephew, the communicants would leave their childhood garb behind to pose in suit and tie. Boys also wore a white armband, symbolizing innocence and purity. They would also hold a rolled certificate in their hands. Finally, one or more white lilies rounded out the decor.

Pitre Bouchard once again visited the small Saint-Alexandre studio. Dressed in his best suit, he posed with his couvre-chef and then again without it. When in the lens with his wife and many children, he never wore a hat; but, when he was alone in front of the camera, he allowed himself the choice. The cap we see here suited him particularly well. Its slight tilt on his head echoes the angle formed by the subject’s equally inclined shoulders. Mr. Bouchard is not standing quite straight either: rather than holding himself up tall, shoulders slightly rolled back, he appears here slightly hunched over. The effect is not necessarily bad! It gives him a relaxed, natural look that goes well with his slightly drooping eyes. Dumont had a gift for producing portraits packed with personality.

It was not unusual for Dumont’s clients to pose in a work uniform. Indeed, many people trusted Marie-Alice Dumont to make them an attractive professional portrait. The example of Eugénie Lavoie, a nurse, illustrates this. Might she have been one of the nurses who cared for the photographer during her long hospitalization in 1936?

This is possibly Marie-Alice Dumont’s first self-portrait, taken when she was about 30 years old. She was then living in the family home on the 5e Rang. Why did she take this photograph of herself? Was it a practice photo before she welcomed her first clients? Did she want to test the camera’s focus? Maybe she was attempting to perfect her bust portrait technique? Or experimenting with light and a slightly turned posture? Was the budding photographer trying to find her identity as a professional and an artist? Perhaps she sought, also, to carve out a place for herself in the world? Her whole life, Marie-Alice photographed others. A self-portrait like this one was a way of saying, “I, too, exist.”

Here, Marie-Alice Dumont posed with her younger sister Elizabeth (to the right, with glasses) and two other girls, who might have been her nieces. The photographer had just set up her studio in the village centre of Saint-Alexandre. A large window had been installed on the north side, and a broad backdrop had been purchased as well: two signs that the studio was fully equipped and ready to welcome a great many clients.

Some passions, like hunting, are handed down from father to son. We can imagine that this is what Pierre Bélanger was aiming to illustrate when he brought his son, Dominique, to Studio Dumont. In a rather amusing photo shoot, the photographer took various portraits of the child dressed as a little hunter, armed with a toy rifle and looking very serious.

Marie-Alice Dumont’s archives show that she used a variety of techniques and tricks to take portraits of children that are both natural and striking. One was to get the children to interact. Here, she placed these two boys, who must have known each other well, facing one another and, presumably, she asked them to converse. She managed to catch a momentary pause in the conversation, as if they were studying each other, waiting for a reaction.

Using a toy, stuffed animal or doll is a winning strategy to make sure a child’s portrait turned out well. To put four-year-old Francine Soucy at ease, the photographer perhaps lent her a doll, asked her mother to bring one or suggested the girl pose with her special friend after seeing her with it in the studio. The portrait is very nice: Francine seems to be enjoying herself, and she flashes a big, genuine smile.

Photographs often included objects or costumes to contextualize a studio portrait. Here, the guitar held by the man and the costumes the couple are wearing clearly show that music and entertainment were part of their lives. In fact, they are none other than Anita and Édouard Castonguay, key figures on Quebec’s country music scene in the second half of the 20th century. At the time Dumont took this portrait, Édouard had just recorded his first album, and he and Anita had been touring the province with great success. With their two sons, Martin and David, they formed La Famille Castonguay, a band that enjoyed a certain notoriety. Édouard Castonguay performed his last show in Saint-Alexandre on October 8, 2005.

Described as displaying undeniable technical skill, Marie-Alice Dumont’s studio work also expressed a general comfort and trust between the photographer and her subjects. We notice, for example, that the same people were photographed many times, sometimes even over several decades. This was true of Lise Chamard, who visited the Dumont’s studio on at least four occasions: in 1941, 1943 (the date of this portrait), 1949 and 1960.

Why was this elderly woman photographed at her spinning wheel in Dumont’s studio? Isn’t it curious that the scene is set in a studio and not in a domestic setting? Were the light and other conditions bad in her home? Might an organization, like the Cercles des fermières, have commissioned such a beautiful portrait? Whatever the case, this photograph stands out from Marie-Alice Dumont’s other portraits of craftspeople, which, typically, were shot in a home setting and with an aesthetic that feels more like a snapshot.

This portrait of Madeleine Marquis is one of many examples of how Marie-Alice Dumont’s portraits “modernized” over her career, particularly those of women. Here, we see Mrs. Marquis relaxed, with her body, face, arms and legs pointing in different directions. Madeleine is looking at us, but at an angle. The pose is dynamic despite the subject’s seated posture.

Skill in the art of posing also means being able to shed a flattering light on the subject, taking them as they come. Simone Gagné certainly did not wear that huge fur collar for nothing! Dumont did a good job of emphasizing it in a frontal pose slightly at an angle. Miss Gagné, with her penetrating gaze, sports an elegant hairstyle. Her positioning also highlights this detail.

Marie-Alice Dumont had a small, sober-looking backdrop for portraits of people alone and of couples. She often photographed them head-on, without accessories, in a bust pose. In doing so, she followed in the footsteps of the great French photographer Nadar (1820–1910), renowned for his highly successful studio portraits of the leading figures of his time. Thanks to Dumont’s masterful art, the loved ones of Roland Thériault, a member of the Royal Canadian Air Force and a soldier in World War II, had a magnificent portrait of him to cherish while he was away at the front.

Angélina Desjardins was another person who passed through Marie-Alice Dumont’s studio several times in her life. Here, for the first time, we see her in an intriguing pose. The way she is seated on the armchair recalls the concubines who were painted throughout history as naked or scantily clad women to evoke sensuality. The resemblance is indeed striking. And yet, Miss Desjardins is just 12 years old here. This casts a doubt on the intentions of the photographer, who was raised in a very conservative milieu and known herself to lecture young people about such mores. Yet, the girl’s gaze does not convey (or seek to convey) sensuality: rather, it’s gentle and innocent. It is tempting, therefore, to attribute it to coincidence or to say that Dumont simply was not aware of the concubines.

Here we see Angélina Desjardins, once again before Dumont’s lens. Four years had passed, and she had become a young woman of 16. The visual style of this portrait is completely different from the previous one. The subject posed in bust form. In the manner of Hollywood stars of the time, her torso is slightly at an angle, while her face is aimed directly at the camera, lending movement to the portrait. The young woman’s makeup and attire appear flirtatious, especially the huge velvet bow in her hair. Angélina’s gaze is direct, frank, intense and confident. It has nothing of the innocent child’s gaze she donned in the previous portrait.

In family portraits taken in the studio, individuals were often placed in such a way as to reflect their position in the family. Here, Daria and Origène Dumont’s five oldest children are placed in order of their birth and, by happy circumstance, by height. Françoise, the oldest, is on the far left. Jean-Paul, Céline, Nicole and Gérard follow in succession.

Photographing children who had just passed their solemn communion or confirmation is another kind of ceremony with well-defined codes. Like in this portrait of Réal Beaupré, Dumont’s nephew, the communicants would leave their childhood garb behind to pose in suit and tie. Boys also wore a white armband, symbolizing innocence and purity. They would also hold a rolled certificate in their hands. Finally, one or more white lilies rounded out the decor.

Pitre Bouchard once again visited the small Saint-Alexandre studio. Dressed in his best suit, he posed with his couvre-chef and then again without it. When in the lens with his wife and many children, he never wore a hat; but, when he was alone in front of the camera, he allowed himself the choice. The cap we see here suited him particularly well. Its slight tilt on his head echoes the angle formed by the subject’s equally inclined shoulders. Mr. Bouchard is not standing quite straight either: rather than holding himself up tall, shoulders slightly rolled back, he appears here slightly hunched over. The effect is not necessarily bad! It gives him a relaxed, natural look that goes well with his slightly drooping eyes. Dumont had a gift for producing portraits packed with personality.

It was not unusual for Dumont’s clients to pose in a work uniform. Indeed, many people trusted Marie-Alice Dumont to make them an attractive professional portrait. The example of Eugénie Lavoie, a nurse, illustrates this. Might she have been one of the nurses who cared for the photographer during her long hospitalization in 1936?