W. H. Midwinter & Co.

Midwinter never met a teacup he didn’t want to photograph. The London studio he ran with his brother cranked out glossy portraits of actors mid-performance, spot-lit faces frozen like bugs under glass. Their best trick?

A single lamp angled so every sequin on a costume caught the light just right, turning tinsel into fireworks. You’ll see it in the Guy Little photograph: one man’s starched collar gleams like a silver dollar against the dark. Look for the hotspot on his cheek; that’s Midwinter’s calling card.