Interactive Map Shows the Seizure of Over 1.5 Billion Acres of Native American Land Between 1776 and 1887

From time to time, Amer­i­cans will talk about the mass killing, treaty-break­ing, impov­er­ish­ment, and forced removal or assim­i­la­tion of Native peo­ples in the U.S. as “a shame­ful peri­od in our his­to­ry.” While this may sound like the noble acknowl­edge­ment of a geno­ci­dal crime, it is far too half-heart­ed and disin­gen­u­ous, since these acts are cen­tral to the entire­ty of U.S. his­to­ry, from the first land­ing of Euro­pean ships on North Amer­i­can shores to the recent events at Stand­ing Rock and beyond. An enor­mous body of schol­ar­ly and pop­u­lar lit­er­a­ture tes­ti­fies to the facts.

For a thor­ough one-vol­ume sur­vey, see Rox­anne Dunbar-Ortiz’s Indige­nous Peo­ples’ His­to­ry of the Unites States, a book that exhaus­tive­ly cites sev­er­al hun­dred years of well-doc­u­ment­ed events, like orders for exter­mi­na­tion and land theft under mil­i­tary lead­ers George Wash­ing­ton, Andrew Jack­son, and Army gen­er­al Thomas S. Jesup. Dun­bar-Ortiz shows how many U.S. mil­i­tary prac­tices and terms (such as the phrase “in coun­try”) came direct­ly from the so-called “Indi­an Wars.”

Take the prac­tice of “scalp hunt­ing,” encour­aged dur­ing the Pequot War and becom­ing rou­tine through­out the peri­od of New Eng­land set­tle­ment in the late 1600’s:

Boun­ties for Indige­nous scalps were hon­ored even in absence of war. Scalps and Indige­nous chil­dren became means of exchange, cur­ren­cy, and this devel­op­ment may even have cre­at­ed a black mar­ket. Scalp hunt­ing was not only a prof­itable pri­va­tized enter­prise but also a means to erad­i­cate or sub­ju­gate the Indige­nous pop­u­la­tion of the Anglo-Amer­i­can Atlantic seaboard. The set­tlers gave a name to the muti­lat­ed and bloody corpses they left in the wake of scalp-hunts: red­skins.

The Amer­i­can foot­ball team cur­rent­ly bear­ing that name and rep­re­sent­ing the nation’s cap­i­tal, as Bax­ter Holmes shows at Esquire, pays trib­ute to the extreme bru­tal­i­ty of mur­der­ing Indige­nous peo­ple and using their scalps as cash. “This way of war,” writes Dun­bar-Ortiz, “became the basis for the wars against the Indige­nous across the con­ti­nent into the late nine­teenth cen­tu­ry.” 

In the GIF above, we see a dra­mat­i­cal­ly tele­scoped visu­al­iza­tion of the “vio­lent seiz­ing of Native Amer­i­cans’ land” after 1776, writes Dylan Matthews at Vox, doc­u­ment­ed by his­to­ri­ans like Dun­bar-Ortiz and Uni­ver­si­ty of Georgia’s Clau­dio Saunt, who, along with Slate’s Rebec­ca Onion, cre­at­ed the graph­ic as a sup­ple­ment for his book West of the Rev­o­lu­tion: An Uncom­mon His­to­ry of 1776. “The project’s source data,” write Saunt and Onion, “is a set of maps pro­duced in 1899 by the Bureau of Amer­i­can Eth­nol­o­gy,” a Smith­son­ian research unit that “pub­lished and col­lect­ed anthro­po­log­i­cal, archae­o­log­i­cal, and lin­guis­tic research… as the nine­teenth cen­tu­ry drew to a close.”

Blue areas show Indige­nous home­lands, red areas show reser­va­tions. The “time-lapse func­tion,” note the map’s cre­ators, “is the most visu­al­ly impres­sive aspect of this inter­ac­tive,” but you can access a “deep lev­el of detail” at the map’s site, such as the names of the hun­dreds of dis­pos­sessed and dis­placed nations and links to the his­tor­i­cal doc­u­men­ta­tion of their land “ces­sion.”

Many of the bound­aries are vague, write Saunt and Onion, “a broad approach that left a lot of room for cre­ative imple­men­ta­tion.” As Saunt puts it, “greater legal­i­ty and more pre­ci­sion would have made it impos­si­ble to seize so much land in so short a time,” just over 100 years shown here, from the 1776 found­ing to 1887, dur­ing which over 1.5 bil­lion acres were seized and occu­pied by fron­tier set­tlers and the U.S. army in what Saunt calls in the map’s title the “Inva­sion of Amer­i­ca.”

View the full map, search­able by place and Indige­nous nation, here. You can also select a sep­a­rate lay­er that shows cur­rent reser­va­tions. See above.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

1,000+ Haunt­ing & Beau­ti­ful Pho­tos of Native Amer­i­can Peo­ples, Shot by the Ethno­g­ra­ph­er Edward S. Cur­tis (Cir­ca 1905)

New Inter­ac­tive Map Visu­al­izes the Chill­ing His­to­ry of Lynch­ing in the U.S. (1835–1964)

Visu­al­iz­ing Slav­ery: The Map Abra­ham Lin­coln Spent Hours Study­ing Dur­ing the Civ­il War

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

An Interactive Map Shows Just How Many Roads Actually Lead to Rome

…he went away, and pass­ing through what was called the house of Tiberius, went down into the forum, to where a gild­ed col­umn stood, at which all the roads that inter­sect Italy ter­mi­nate.”

- Plutarch, Life of Gal­ba (XXIV.4)

No one can give you exact direc­tions to Mil­liar­i­um Aureum (aka the Gold­en Mile­stone). Just a few carved mar­ble frag­ments of the gild­ed column’s base remain in the Roman Forum, where its orig­i­nal loca­tion is some­what dif­fi­cult to pin­point.

But as the image above, from inter­ac­tive map Roads to Rome, shows (view it here), the mot­to Emper­or Cae­sar Augus­tus’ mighty mile mark­er inspired still holds true.

All roads lead to Rome.

To illus­trate, design­ers Benedikt Groß and Philipp Schmitt worked with dig­i­tal geo­g­ra­ph­er Raphael Reimann to select 486,713 start­ing points on a 26,503,452 km² grid of Europe.

From there, they cre­at­ed an algo­rithm to cal­cu­late the best route from each point to Rome.

(It beats typ­ing a street address into Google Maps 486,713 times.)

From afar, the result­ing map looks like a del­i­cate piece of sea let­tuce or an ear­ly explo­ration in neu­roanato­my.

Zoom in as tight as you can and things become more tra­di­tion­al­ly car­to­graph­ic in appear­ance, names and spa­tial rela­tions of cities assert­ing them­selves. A bold line indi­cates a busy route.

In a nod to map lovers out­side of Europe, the mobil­i­ty-obsessed team came up with anoth­er map, this one geared to state­side users.

Do you know which of the Unit­ed States’ nine Romes you are clos­est to?

Now you do, from 312,719 dis­tinct start­ing points.

To help them in their labor, the cre­ative team made good use of the Graph­Hop­per route opti­miza­tion tool and the Open Street Map wiki. In their own esti­ma­tion, the project’s out­come is “some­where between infor­ma­tion visu­al­iza­tion and data art, unveil­ing mobil­i­ty on a very large scale.”

Buy a poster of the All Roads Lead to Rome map here. Or view the inter­ac­tive map here.

via Arch Dai­ly

Relat­ed Con­tent:

The Lon­don Time Machine: Inter­ac­tive Map Lets You Com­pare Mod­ern Lon­don, to the Lon­don Short­ly After the Great Fire of 1666

Watch the His­to­ry of the World Unfold on an Ani­mat­ed Map: From 200,000 BCE to Today

An Inter­ac­tive Map of Every Record Shop in the World

Ayun Hal­l­i­day is an author, illus­tra­tor, the­ater mak­er and Chief Pri­ma­tol­o­gist of the East Vil­lage Inky zine.  Join her in NYC on Wednes­day, May 16 for anoth­er month­ly install­ment of her book-based vari­ety show, Necro­mancers of the Pub­lic Domain. Fol­low her @AyunHalliday.

Computer Scientists Figure Out What’s the Longest Distance You Could Sail at Sea Without Hitting Land

Back in 2012, a red­di­tor by the name of “Kepleron­ly­knows” won­dered what’s the longest dis­tance you could trav­el by sea with­out hit­ting land. And then s/he haz­ard­ed an edu­cat­ed guess: “you can sail almost 20,000 miles in a straight line from Pak­istan to the Kam­chat­ka Penin­su­la, Rus­sia.”

Six years lat­er, two com­put­er scientists–Rohan Chabuk­swar (Unit­ed Tech­nolo­gies Research Cen­ter in Ire­land) and Kushal Mukher­jee (IBM Research in India)–have devel­oped an algo­rithm that offers a more defin­i­tive answer. Accord­ing to their com­pu­ta­tions, “Kepleron­ly­knows was entire­ly cor­rect,” notes the MIT Tech­nol­o­gy Review.

The longest path over water “begins in Son­mi­ani, Balochis­tan, Pak­istan, pass­es between Africa and Mada­gas­car and then between Antarc­ti­ca and Tier­ra del Fuego in South Amer­i­ca, and ends in the Kara­gin­sky Dis­trict, Kam­chat­ka Krai, in Rus­sia. It is 32,089.7 kilo­me­ters long.” Or 19,939 miles.

While they were at it, Chabuk­swar and Mukher­jee also deter­mined the longest land jour­ney you could take with­out hit­ting the sea. That path, again notes the MIT Tech­nol­o­gy Review, “runs from near Jin­jiang, Fujian, in Chi­na, weaves through Mon­go­lia Kaza­khstan and Rus­sia, and final­ly reach­es Europe to fin­ish near Sagres in Por­tu­gal. In total the route pass­es through 15 coun­tries over 11,241.1 kilo­me­ters.” Or 6,984 miles. You can read Chabuk­swar and Mukher­jee’s research report here.

via the MIT Tech­nol­o­gy Review

Relat­ed Con­tent:

A Col­or­ful Map Visu­al­izes the Lex­i­cal Dis­tances Between Europe’s Lan­guages: 54 Lan­guages Spo­ken by 670 Mil­lion Peo­ple

Col­or­ful Maps from 1914 and 2016 Show How Planes & Trains Have Made the World Small­er and Trav­el Times Quick­er

The Atlantic Slave Trade Visu­al­ized in Two Min­utes: 10 Mil­lion Lives, 20,000 Voy­ages, Over 315 Years

Free Online Com­put­er Sci­ence Cours­es

A Map Showing How the Ancient Romans Envisioned the World in 40 AD

We’ve all seen that famous New York­er cov­er sat­i­riz­ing a New York­er’s dis­tort­ed, self-cen­tered view of the world: Man­hat­tan occu­pies a good half of the image, rel­e­gat­ing the rest of Amer­i­ca (and indeed the world) to the sta­tus of out­er-out­er bor­oughs. What Saul Stein­berg did with a draw­ing in 1976, pio­neer­ing Roman geo­g­ra­ph­er Pom­po­nius Mela had done, in a much less comedic but much more accu­rate way, with text nine­teen cen­turies before. Writ­ing from his per­spec­tive under the reign of the Emper­or Gaius, Claudius, or both, Mela cre­at­ed noth­ing less than a world­view, which tells us now how the ancient Romans con­ceived of the world around them, its char­ac­ter­is­tics and its rela­tion­ship to the ter­ri­to­ry of the might­i­est empire going.

“Pom­po­nius Mela is a puz­zle, and so is his one known work, The Chorog­ra­phy,” writes Frank E. Romer in Pom­po­nius Mela’s Descrip­tion of the World. In that series of three books, which seems not to have con­tained any maps itself, Mela divides the Earth into two rough “hemi­spheres” and five zones, two of them cold, one of them hot, and two in between.

Pulling togeth­er what in his day con­sti­tut­ed a wealth of geo­graph­i­cal knowl­edge from a vari­ety of pre­vi­ous sources, he paint­ed a word-pic­ture of the world more accu­rate, on the whole, than any writ­ten down before. Schol­ars since have also praised Mela’s clear, acces­si­ble prose style — clear and acces­si­ble, in any case, for a first-cen­tu­ry text com­posed in Latin.

Var­i­ous maps, includ­ing the 1898 repro­duc­tion pic­tured at the top of the post (see it in a larg­er for­mat here), have attempt­ed to visu­al­ize Mela’s world­view and make it leg­i­ble at a glance. You can see more ver­sions at Cartographic-images.net, and the David Rum­sey Map Col­lec­tion shows the world accord­ing to Mela placed along­side the world accord­ing to Ptole­my and the world accord­ing to Diony­sius Periegetes. Though Mela showed greater insight into the inte­gra­tion of the var­i­ous parts of the world known to the ancient Romans than did his pre­de­ces­sors, he also, of course, had his blind spots and rough areas, includ­ing the assump­tion that human beings could only live in the two most tem­per­ate of the cli­mat­ic zones he defined. Even so, the maps derived from his work pro­vide an infor­ma­tive glimpse of how, exact­ly, Romans saw their place in the world — or rather how, exact­ly, they saw their place in the cen­ter of it.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Ancient Rome’s Sys­tem of Roads Visu­al­ized in the Style of Mod­ern Sub­way Maps

The Largest Ear­ly Map of the World Gets Assem­bled for the First Time: See the Huge, Detailed & Fan­tas­ti­cal World Map from 1587

Ancient Maps that Changed the World: See World Maps from Ancient Greece, Baby­lon, Rome, and the Islam­ic World

The His­to­ry of Car­tog­ra­phy, the “Most Ambi­tious Overview of Map Mak­ing Ever,” Is Now Free Online

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities and cul­ture. His projects include the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les and the video series The City in Cin­e­ma. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

The Genius of Harry Beck’s 1933 London Tube Map–and How It Revolutionized Subway Map Design Everywhere

The sub­way is a mar­vel of engi­neer­ing, and so is the mod­ern sub­way map.

For the first 25 years of its exis­tence, Lon­don Under­ground rid­ers relied on a map that reflect­ed the actu­al dis­tance between sta­tions, as well as rivers, parks, and oth­er above­ground phe­nom­e­na.

As design­er Michael Bierut observes in the video at the top, the rad­i­cal­ly revised approach it final­ly adopt­ed in 1933 proved so intu­itive and easy to use, it remains the uni­ver­sal tem­plate for mod­ern sub­way maps.

The brain­child of Har­ry Beck, a young drafts­man in the Lon­don Under­ground Sig­nals Office, the new map is more accu­rate­ly a dia­gram that pri­or­i­tized rid­ers’ needs.

He did away with all above­ground ref­er­ences save the Thames, and replot­ted the sta­tions at equidis­tant points along col­or-cod­ed straight lines.

This innovation—for which he was paid about $8—helped rid­ers to glean at a glance where to make the sub­ter­ranean con­nec­tions that would allow them to trav­el from point A to point B.

The for­mer senior cura­tor of Lon­don Trans­port Muse­um, Anna Ren­ton, said in an inter­view with The Verge that Beck’s design may have helped per­suade city dwellers to make the leap to sub­urbs ser­viced by the Under­ground “by mak­ing them look clos­er to the cen­ter, and show­ing how easy it was to com­mute.”

It’s not Beck’s fault if ser­vice falls short of his map’s effi­cient ide­al, par­tic­u­lar­ly on nights and week­ends, when track work and ser­vice advi­sories abound, ren­der­ing such com­mutes a night­mare.

The appeal of sub­way map-themed sou­venirs is also a tes­ta­ment to the visu­al appeal of Beck’s orig­i­nal design, espe­cial­ly giv­en that such pur­chas­es are not lim­it­ed to tourists.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Ani­mat­ed GIFs Show How Sub­way Maps of Berlin, New York, Tokyo & Lon­don Com­pare to the Real Geog­ra­phy of Those Great Cities

A Won­der­ful Archive of His­toric Tran­sit Maps: Expres­sive Art Meets Pre­cise Graph­ic Design

The Roman Roads of Britain Visu­al­ized as a Sub­way Map

Ayun Hal­l­i­day is an author, illus­tra­tor, the­ater mak­er and Chief Pri­ma­tol­o­gist of the East Vil­lage Inky zine.  Join her in NYC on Mon­day, April 23 for the third install­ment of her lit­er­ary-themed vari­ety show, Necro­mancers of the Pub­lic Domain. Fol­low her @AyunHalliday.

The Illustrated Medicinal Plant Map of the United States of America (1932): Download It in High Resolution

Two years ago, we high­light­ed col­lec­tor David Rumsey’s huge map archive, which he donat­ed to Stan­ford Uni­ver­si­ty in April of 2016 and which now resides at Stanford’s David Rum­sey Map Cen­ter. The open­ing of this phys­i­cal col­lec­tion was a pret­ty big deal, but the dig­i­tal col­lec­tion has been on the web, in some part, and avail­able to the online pub­lic since 1996. Twen­ty years ago, how­ev­er, though the inter­net was decid­ed­ly becom­ing an every­day fea­ture of mod­ern life, it was dif­fi­cult for the aver­age per­son to imag­ine the degree to which dig­i­tal tech­nol­o­gy would com­plete­ly over­take our lives, not to men­tion the almost unbe­liev­able wealth and pow­er tech com­pa­nies would amass in such short time.

Sim­i­lar­ly, when the above 1932 Med­i­c­i­nal Plant Map of the Unit­ed States (see in a larg­er for­mat here) first appeared—one of the tens of thou­sands of maps avail­able in the dig­i­tal Rum­sey col­lec­tion—few peo­ple oth­er than Aldous Hux­ley could have fore­seen the expo­nen­tial advances, and the rise of wealth and pow­er, to come in the phar­ma­ceu­ti­cal indus­try.

But the phar­ma­cists had a clue. The map, pro­duced by the Nation­al Whole­sale Drug­gists’ Asso­ci­a­tion, “was intend­ed to boost the image of the pro­fes­sion,” writes Rebec­ca Onion at Slate, “at a time when com­pa­nies were increas­ing­ly com­pound­ing new phar­ma­ceu­ti­cals in labs,” there­by ren­der­ing much of the drug-mak­ing knowl­edge and skill of old-time drug­gists obso­lete.

Although the com­mer­cial phar­ma­ceu­ti­cal indus­try began tak­ing shape in the late 19th cen­tu­ry, it didn’t ful­ly come into its own until the so-called “gold­en era” of 1930–1960, when, says Onion, researchers devel­oped “a flood of new antibi­otics, psy­chotrop­ics, anti­his­t­a­mines, and vac­cines, increas­ing­ly rely­ing on syn­thet­ic chem­istry to do so.” Over-the-counter med­ica­tions pro­lif­er­at­ed, and phar­ma­cists became alarmed. They sought to per­suade the pub­lic of their con­tin­ued rel­e­vance by point­ing out, as a short blurb at the bot­tom left cor­ner of the map notes, that “few peo­ple real­ize the extent to which plants and min­er­als enter into the prac­tice of phar­ma­cy.”

The map appeared dur­ing “Phar­ma­cy Week” in Octo­ber, when “phar­ma­cists in Anglo-Sax­on coun­tries” pro­mote their ser­vices. Los­ing sight of those impor­tant ser­vices, the Drug­gists’ Asso­ci­a­tion writes, will lead to suf­fer­ing, should the tra­di­tion­al phar­ma­cist’s func­tion “be impaired or destroyed by com­mer­cial trends.” Thus we have this visu­al demon­stra­tion of com­pe­tence. The map iden­ti­fies impor­tant species—native or cultivated—in each region of the coun­try. In Ken­tucky, we see Nicoti­na tabacum, whose cured leaves, you guessed it, “con­sti­tute tobac­co.” Across the coun­try in Neva­da, we are intro­duced to Apoc­ynum cannabinum, “native of U.S. and South­ern Canada—the dried rhi­zome and roots con­sti­tute the drug apoc­ynum or Cana­di­an hemp.”

The bet­ter-known Can­nibus sati­va also appears, in one of the box­es around the map’s bor­der that intro­duce plants from out­side North Amer­i­ca, includ­ing Ery­throx­y­lon coca, from Bolivia and Peru, and Papaver som­nifer­um, from which opi­um derives. Many of the oth­er med­ica­tions will be less famil­iar to us—and belong to what we now call natur­opa­thy, herbal­ism, or, more gen­er­al­ly, “tra­di­tion­al med­i­cine.” Though these med­i­c­i­nal prac­tices are many thou­sands of years old, the drug­gists try to project a cut­ting-edge image, assur­ing the map’s read­ers that “intense sci­en­tif­ic study, expert knowl­edge, extreme care and accu­ra­cy are applied by the phar­ma­cist to med­i­c­i­nal plants.”

While phar­ma­cists today are high­ly-trained pro­fes­sion­als, the part of their jobs that involved the mak­ing of drugs from scratch has been ced­ed to mas­sive cor­po­ra­tions and their research lab­o­ra­to­ries. The drug­gists of 1932 saw this com­ing, and no amount of col­or­ful pub­lic rela­tions could stem the tide. But it may be the case, giv­en chang­ing laws, chang­ing atti­tudes, the back­lash against over­med­ica­tion, and the dev­as­tat­ing opi­oid epi­dem­ic, that their craft is more rel­e­vant than it has been in decades, though today’s “drug­gists” work in mar­i­jua­na dis­pen­saries and health food stores instead of nation­al phar­ma­cy chains.

View and down­load the map in a high res­o­lu­tion scan at the David Rum­sey Map Col­lec­tion, where you can zoom in to every plant on the map and read its descrip­tion.

via Slate

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Down­load 67,000 His­toric Maps (in High Res­o­lu­tion) from the Won­der­ful David Rum­sey Map Col­lec­tion

The His­to­ry of Car­tog­ra­phy, the “Most Ambi­tious Overview of Map Mak­ing Ever,” Is Now Free Online

1,000-Year-Old Illus­trat­ed Guide to the Med­i­c­i­nal Use of Plants Now Dig­i­tized & Put Online

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

Japanese Designer Creates Incredibly Detailed & Realistic Maps of a City That Doesn’t Exist

When he first spent time in Japan­ese cities, urban design and his­to­ry pro­fes­sor Bar­rie Shel­ton “was baf­fled, irri­tat­ed, and even intim­i­dat­ed by what I saw. Yet at the same time I found myself ener­gized, ani­mat­ed, and indeed inspired by them. The effect was lib­er­at­ing and my intu­ition was quick to sug­gest that fur­ther explo­ration of their chaot­ic vital­i­ty might be extreme­ly reward­ing.” That explo­ration involved vis­its to “alleys, shrine and tem­ple precincts, high­ways, rail­way sta­tions (and their ‘mag­net­ic’ fields), roof-tops, obser­va­tion decks, arcades, under­ground streets, bars, gar­dens,” and so on, and no less essen­tial­ly includ­ed “almost com­pul­sive por­ing over city maps (old and new).”

It all cul­mi­nat­ed in Shel­ton’s book Learn­ing from the Japan­ese City, a study that can help any West­ern­er bet­ter under­stand the likes of Tokyo, Osa­ka, Kyoto, Kanaza­wa, Hiroshi­ma, Fukuo­ka, or indeed Nago­mu­ru City. You won’t find that last, how­ev­er, on any map of Japan, nor will you find it in the coun­try itself. It exists in the land of Naira, which itself exists in the mind of Japan­ese graph­ic design­er and car­tog­ra­ph­er Imaizu­mi Takayu­ki. Imaizu­mi’s painstak­ing, ongo­ing work has pro­duced maps of Nago­mu­ru City that look at it in dif­fer­ent ways in dif­fer­ent eras, which you can browse on Let’s Go to the Imag­i­nary Cities! On this page you can explore scrol­lable maps of the city by first select­ing one of its thir­ty regions; just below that, you can also down­load a large PDF map of the entire metrop­o­lis.

Imaizu­mi’s urban car­to­graph­ic vision is so rich­ly real­ized that it has pro­duced art exhi­bi­tions, a book, and even a vari­ety of phys­i­cal arti­facts. On one page, for instance, you’ll find pho­tographs of the con­tents of sev­er­al imag­i­nary wal­lets lost on the imag­i­nary streets of Nago­mu­ru City by its imag­i­nary cit­i­zens. On anoth­er appear the imag­i­nary cash cards issued by the imag­i­nary Nago­mu­ru Bank, com­plete with a pair of imag­i­nary mas­cots with­out which, as any­one with any expe­ri­ence of Japan knows, no card would be com­plete. These arti­facts and oth­ers have all come as a result of the project Imaizu­mi began at just ten years old, a brief his­to­ry of which Japan­ese-read­ers can take in here.

“If I can imag­ine a fic­tive nation,” writes Roland Barthes in Empire of Signs, “I can give it an invent­ed name, treat it declar­a­tive­ly as a nov­el­is­tic object,” then “iso­late some­where in the world (far­away) a cer­tain num­ber of fea­tures (a term employed in lin­guis­tics), and out of all these fea­tures delib­er­ate­ly form a sys­tem. It is this sys­tem which I call: Japan.” Imaizu­mi chose to call his sys­tem Nago­mu­ru City, but one imag­ines that all its care­ful­ly cre­at­ed and posi­tioned fea­tures and details — the train lines and sta­tions, the shrines and tem­ples, the hous­ing devel­op­ments, the con­ve­nience stores, all the things cel­e­brat­ed in both Empire of Signs and Learn­ing from the Japan­ese City — would have fired up Barthes’ imag­i­na­tion just as much as did the real Japan.

via Metafil­ter

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Invis­i­ble Cities Illus­trat­ed: Artist Illus­trates Each and Every City in Ita­lo Calvino’s Clas­sic Nov­el

Invis­i­ble Cities Illus­trat­ed: Three Artists Paint Every City in Ita­lo Calvino’s Clas­sic Nov­el

William Faulkn­er Draws Maps of Yok­na­p­ataw­pha Coun­ty, the Fic­tion­al Home of His Great Nov­els

Japan­ese Design­ers May Have Cre­at­ed the Most Accu­rate Map of Our World: See the Autha­Graph

Artist Re-Envi­sions Nation­al Parks in the Style of Tolkien’s Mid­dle Earth Maps

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities and cul­ture. His projects include the book The State­less City: a Walk through 21st-Cen­tu­ry Los Ange­les and the video series The City in Cin­e­ma. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

The History of the U.S. Civil War Visualized Month by Month and State by State, in an Infographic from 1897

There’s been a lot of hand­wring­ing over the i‑Generation’s lack of map read­ing skills.

While we’re at it, let’s take a cold, hard look at the Gild­ed Age info­graph­ic, above.…

… and con­clude that peo­ple who live in glass hous­es should stop reach­ing for stones.

Pub­lished in 1897 by the Com­par­a­tive Syn­op­ti­cal Chart Com­pa­ny, this now unfath­omable doc­u­ment–His­to­ry of the Civ­il War in the Unit­ed States: 1860–1865–achieved its goal of squeez­ing the max­i­mum amount of con­tent onto a sin­gle sheet.

This is in direct oppo­si­tion to today’s gen­er­al­ly accept­ed rules for cre­at­ing suc­cess­ful info­graph­ics, one of which is to sim­pli­fy.

Anoth­er holds that text should be used spar­ing­ly, lest it clut­ter up strong visu­als. Con­sumers have a lim­it­ed atten­tion span, and for con­tent to be con­sid­ered share­able, they should be able to take it in at a glance.

Mod­ern eyes may be for­giv­en for mis­tak­ing this chart for the world’s most con­vo­lut­ed sub­way map. But those aren’t stops, friend. They’re minor engage­ments. Blood­i­er and bet­ter-known bat­tles are delin­eat­ed with larg­er circles—yellow cen­ters for a Union vic­to­ry, pale green for Con­fed­er­ate.

The fastest way to begin mak­ing heads or tails of the chart is to note that each col­umn is assigned to a dif­fer­ent state.

The ver­ti­cal axis is divid­ed into months. Notice all the neg­a­tive space around Fort Sumter.

And the con­stant entries in Vir­gini­a’s col­umn.

The pub­lish­er not­ed that the loca­tion of events was “entire­ly gov­erned” by this time scale.

You’ll have to look hard for Lincoln’s assas­si­na­tion.

Con­sumers who pur­chased the His­to­ry of the Civ­il War in the Unit­ed States 1860–1865 pre­sum­ably pored over it by can­dle­light, sup­ple­ment­ing it with maps and books.

It would still make a superb addi­tion to any his­to­ry teacher’s class­room, both as dec­o­ra­tion and the tin­der that could ignite dis­cus­sion as to how we receive infor­ma­tion, and how much infor­ma­tion is in fact received.

Explore a larg­er, zoomable ver­sion of the map here.

via Slate

Relat­ed Con­tent:

A Free Course from Yale on the U.S. Civ­il War

Watch Vet­er­ans of The US Civ­il War Demon­strate the Dread­ed Rebel Yell (1930)

Visu­al­iz­ing Slav­ery: The Map Abra­ham Lin­coln Spent Hours Study­ing Dur­ing the Civ­il War

Ayun Hal­l­i­day is an author, illus­tra­tor, the­ater mak­er and Chief Pri­ma­tol­o­gist of the East Vil­lage Inky zine. Fol­low her @AyunHalliday.

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