On the top floor of a converted clock factory in Harpenden, time is measured not in hours but in moments of light. Here, Thomas Whitcomb, one of the world’s foremost private collectors of early photographic experiments and proto-cinematic devices, has created a sanctuary for the earliest attempts to capture motion and stillness.
Whitcomb’s collection is less a static archive than a working laboratory of history. A visitor might first encounter a hand-cranked magic lantern projecting 19th-century glass slides, their colours rich despite their age. Around the corner, a dimly lit room holds a pristine 1878 zoopraxiscope by Eadweard Muybridge, still able to conjure the galloping horse that proved motion could be dissected by the camera.
He moves easily between his treasures, speaking as though introducing old friends. A salted paper print by William Henry Fox Talbot is displayed near a velvet-cased daguerreotype of a young woman with impossibly steady eyes. Sequential photographs by Étienne-Jules Marey are kept in a shallow drawer, delicate gelatin silver prints tracing the arc of a bird’s wing in precise increments. They are handled as carefully as if they might fly away.
Whitcomb’s fascination began as a teenager, when he discovered an abandoned 8mm projector in his grandfather’s attic. That projector still sits on a shelf in his study, flanked by more ambitious acquisitions: stereoscopic views of 1860s Paris, cyanotypes by Anna Atkins, and an early Lumière Cinématographe he helped restore to working order.
When the mood takes him, he’ll stage small screenings in his loft, inviting a handful of friends to watch short reels under low light. The mechanical whir of antique projectors blends with the faint scent of warm dust, an atmosphere that could belong to 1900 as easily as today.
Whitcomb also ensures these fragile histories don’t stay locked behind closed doors. Through the Third Light Initiative, a foundation he established in 2019, he sponsors traveling exhibitions to schools and libraries, with replica devices visitors can crank, peer into, and watch come to life. One wall of his loft is covered with handwritten notes from schoolchildren: drawings of horses, lanterns, and silhouettes inspired by what they’ve seen.
The loft itself shifts constantly, devices moved to catch the right afternoon light, new acquisitions sliding into place among the familiar. For Whitcomb, this isn’t simply storage. It’s an ever-changing constellation of inventions, each one capturing a moment when someone first found a way to trap light and make it last. “I’m surrounded by history, surrounded by the work of brilliant people, and I hope I can transmit some of my enthusiasm for these pieces to the next generation.”
An admirable aim and one that he is working towards every day as he curates and adds to his impressive collection.
