From Emblems to Diagrams: Kepler's New Pictorial Language of Scientific Representation (original) (raw)
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This beautifully produced and densely illustrated book is an important addition to the existing literature on illustrations of nature in the sixteenth and early seventeenth century. Florike Egmond makes a daring choice by enlisting modern terminology in describing the early modern techniques of depicting plants and animals. Self-consciously anachronistic concepts such as " layered images " , " time lapse " , " photoshopping " , " zoom " and " insets " are used throughout the book. The effect is paradoxical: on the one hand they give the reader a feeling of familiarity with the processes she describes, on the other their deployment in this context aims 'to make things strange' (pp. 232–234). One of the main points of the book is to show convincingly that the way of depicting plants and animals did not abruptly change with new technologies such as the printing press and the microscope. Using the anachronistic vocabulary is a bold experiment to extend the line of continuity into our own time. Some readers will see value in this Brechtian Verfremdungseffekt; others who are more sceptical of its heuristic value will find it a distraction.
Artistic Images as Instruments in Early Modern Scientific Practices
The Roman Accademia dei Lincei, founded in 1603 by Federico Cesi and three friends, is often credited for being the first modern scientific academy. In their scientific projects the Linceans emphasized observation and experimentation; they focused on the so-called ‘lesser known sciences’, such as mathematics, natural history, and natural philosophy; and they were fanatic supporters of Galileo, who became a member himself in 1611. Another striking feature of this academy is the fact that Cesi and his fellow academicians commissioned large amounts of drawings and prints, often of a high quality, for their scientific projects. These artistic images played a role in processes of knowledge acquisition and divulgation. However, it remains unclear what the exact functions of these drawings were in the scientific practices of the Linceans. How did these drawings – and the artists who produced them – aid the scientists in acquiring knowledge from the natural world? One promising perspective from which this question can be answered is Federico Zuccari’s theory of Disegno, as this was presented in the Accademia di San Luca in Rome. Zuccari was the first president of this art academy and in 1594 he laid down the theoretical principles for the lectures and practical training of young artists (published in 1604). More than other art theorists, Zuccari explicitly connects the process of artistic production to that of knowledge acquisition. He does so with the help of the notion of Disegno. According to Zuccari, Disegno is not only the foundation and starting point for the production of artistic images, but it also is that what enables man to gain knowledge of the natural world. Moreover, his proposal for the art academy’s curriculum describes the steps by which young artists can and should improve their Disegno. This paper attempts to show how Zuccari’s double-layered notion of Disegno and his proposal for the academic curriculum can further our understanding of the functions of the drawings that were commissioned by the Linceans in the context of their scientific practices. It argues that these 'disegni' and the artists who produced them functioned as instruments for the scientists.
Journal of the History of Medicine and Allied Sciences, 2013
Rather than use "the book of nature" in a metaphorical sense, Sachiko Kusukawa makes a compelling case that illustrated books of anatomy and botany similarly directed attention to material structures of nature in sixteenthcentury Europe. Showing that illustrated books stand in a complex relation to the practices they record, she argues in this beautifully produced volume that authors adopted engraved images to define "nature" as a material form of evidence in distinctly modern ways. Kusukawa shows how the assembly of books restored the premium ancient writers placed on "seeing for oneself [autopsia]" in ways "integral to the Renaissance enterprise of reviving classical knowledge" (125). She argues that images in botany and anatomy texts after 1530 delineated natural structures both to resolve debates of translation and to synthesize observations by which natural structures "became visible" (257) in ways independent from stylistic shifts of art. Kusukawa demonstrates that naturalists defended their right to illustrate their work with the fixed outlines, volumetric shading, and delineation of wood and copper engravings, thus mediating their first-hand observations through printed form. Her argument extends the classic thesis of William Ivins that "exactly reproducible pictorial statement[s]" rationalized nature (Prints and Visual Communication, Cambridge: MIT Press, 1969, 23-24, 46). Her attention to how authors integrated images to create arguments rooted in observations unpacks Ivins's claim and extends his argument in at least three ways: by demonstrating the investment of a northern European milieu in securing privileges for prints to make knowledge claims in their illustrated books; by showing the value of the precision with which engraved images could embody synthetic observations; by highlighting the
When the botanist can't draw: the case of Linnaeus
Interdisciplinary Science Reviews, 2004
Botany lessons have traditionally required students to draw plants as a way to understand basic plant morphology, and the resurgence of botany in the sixteenth century is closely tied to the publication of lifelike illustrations of plants. The founder of modern botany, Carolus Linnaeus (1707-78) made botany a broadly accessible subject through his binomial nomenclature and artificial system of classification. However, Linnaeus regarded botanical illustrations as useful only to 'boys and those who have more brain-pan than brain' (Genera Plantarum, 1737). Botanical progress, he insisted, depended on the use of clear, detailed, technical, written descriptions rather than pictures. In light of Linnaeus's own botanical education, his experience with botanical illustrators, and his drawings from his solo scientific expedition to Lappland in 1732, it becomes clear that his ranking of words over images reflected both his own strengths as a scientist and his personal difficulties with drawing.
Open Cultural Studies, 2022
This article shows how the descriptions of paintings (Imagines) by the ancient Greek author Philostratus (third century AD) can be viewed as pedagogical tools in the introduction to higher education. Philostratus presented his descriptions in the context of a tour in a picture gallery for young students. In the study presented here, the pedagogical context is taken seriously. With the means of three examples, the study shows how Philostratus uses his descriptions to guide his students into the interpretation of paintings, agriculture, and astronomy. Rather than simply present exemplary rhetorical descriptions of paintings as one would expect a rhetorical teacher to do, Philostratus uses paintings as pedagogical working tables where students can view simplified versions of complex fields of knowledge, an approach that is not unlike the visual presentation of introductory knowledge on old-fashioned cardboard wallcharts in modern schools.
Open Cultural Studies
This article shows how the descriptions of paintings (Imagines) by the ancient Greek author Philostratus (third century AD) can be viewed as pedagogical tools in the introduction to higher education. Philostratus presented his descriptions in the context of a tour in a picture gallery for young students. In the study presented here, the pedagogical context is taken seriously. With the means of three examples, the study shows how Philostratus uses his descriptions to guide his students into the interpretation of paintings, agriculture, and astronomy. Rather than simply present exemplary rhetorical descriptions of paintings as one would expect a rhetorical teacher to do, Philostratus uses paintings as pedagogical working tables where students can view simplified versions of complex fields of knowledge, an approach that is not unlike the visual presentation of introductory knowledge on old-fashioned cardboard wallcharts in modern schools.