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

transit 1

Any­one who loves cities almost cer­tain­ly loves tran­sit maps: for well over a cen­tu­ry, they’ve not only played an essen­tial role in the nav­i­ga­tion of urban spaces but devel­oped into their very own dis­tinc­tive form at the inter­sec­tion of util­i­ty and aes­thet­ics. The finest exam­ples simul­ta­ne­ous­ly pos­sess the clar­i­ty and infor­ma­tion-rich­ness of the best graph­ic design and hold out promis­es of excite­ment and moder­ni­ty that require a true artis­tic sen­si­bil­i­ty to prop­er­ly express. None of this is lost on Cameron Booth, the Aus­tralian graph­ic design­er liv­ing in Port­land, Ore­gon who runs the site Tran­sit Maps.

Transit 2

“A well designed tran­sit map con­veys a lot of infor­ma­tion in a very small space,” writes Booth on the site’s About page. “In an instant, we learn how to get from ‘A’ to ‘B’, sim­ply by fol­low­ing some coloured lines. The very best maps become sym­bols of their city, admired and loved by all.” None have become quite so sym­bol­ic as the map of the Lon­don Under­ground, the old­est sub­way sys­tem in the world, and Tran­sit Maps’ posts filed under the Lon­don Under­ground tag, such as the 1929 cut­away dia­gram of its Pic­cadil­ly Cir­cus sta­tion by Ital­ian archi­tect and urban design­er Ren­zo Picas­so just above pro­vide plen­ty of good read­ing — and even bet­ter view­ing — for its many enthu­si­asts.

Transit 3

Among Amer­i­can cities, no sub­way sys­tem has a more respect­ed map than Wash­ing­ton, DC’s, the work of graph­ic design­er Lance Wyman, for whom it has remained a work in progress: he over­saw a redesign just five years ago, almost forty years after the sys­tem went into ser­vice and his orig­i­nal map made its debut. Here we have one of Wyman’s orig­i­nal work­ing sketch­es for the map straight from his note­book. “Inter­est­ing­ly, it looks like Wyman was exper­i­ment­ing with tex­tur­al treat­ments for the route lines at this time,” adds Booth, “an idea I’m ever so glad he aban­doned, because it would have looked so busy and hideous.”

Transit 4

Hav­ing seen many more tran­sit maps than most, and even hav­ing designed some of his own (includ­ing a rework­ing of the DC Metro map), Booth does­n’t hes­i­tate to point out both the virtues and the flaws of the ones he posts. He even grades them on a star rat­ing sys­tem (with, of course, cir­cu­lar Lon­don Under­ground logos sub­sti­tut­ing for actu­al stars), col­lect­ing the very best under the five-star tag. One such pas­sage with fly­ing col­ors, the 1950s York­shire coast train map at the top of the post, has Booth exclaim­ing that “they don’t make ‘em like this any more. The 1908 bird’s-eye view of Chica­go, source of the leg­end above, scores its own five stars by “minute atten­tion to detail,” down to the inclu­sion of “smoke curls from fac­to­ry chim­neys” and “almost every tree in the city’s parks.”

Transit 5

Few cities have attract­ed as much atten­tion from map­mak­ers as New York, pos­si­bly due to all its won­ders — or at least those are what IBM graph­ic design­er Nils Hansell empha­sizes in his mid-1950s map “Won­ders of New York” which, despite not look­ing far past Man­hat­tan, does include tran­sit and much else besides: Booth men­tions its depic­tion of “300-odd num­bered points of inter­est” as well as “the last ves­tiges of New York’s once-exten­sive ele­vat­ed rail­way lines.” You need quite a high-def­i­n­i­tion scan to real­ly appre­ci­ate all this, and Booth found one in the David Rum­sey Map Col­lec­tion, which we’ve pre­vi­ous­ly fea­tured here on Open Cul­ture.

Transit 6

Scroll through the pages and pages of Tran­sit Maps’ his­tor­i­cal tag, and you’ll find a wealth of fas­ci­nat­ing show­pieces of the tran­sit map­per’s art, not just from the Lon­dons and New Yorks of the world, but also from times and places like Berlin in 1931Madi­son, Wis­con­sin in 1975, and Booth’s own old home­town of Syd­ney in 1950 and new home­town of Port­land in 1978. The archive even includes tran­sit maps from unusu­al places, such as a delight­ful one print­ed on the back of a Japan­ese match­box in the 1920s, and maps for tran­sit sys­tems nev­er com­plet­ed, such as the one for the Bagh­dad Metro from the ear­ly 1980s just above. Iraq’s cap­i­tal may still await a full-ser­vice sub­way sys­tem — and much else besides — but at least its map earns top marks.

tokyo subway

Relat­ed Con­tent:

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

Design­er Mas­si­mo Vignel­li Revis­its and Defends His Icon­ic 1972 New York City Sub­way Map

Vin­tage Video: A New York City Sub­way Train Trav­els From 14th St. to 42nd Street (1905)

Vladimir Nabokov Cre­ates a Hand-Drawn Map of James Joyce’s Ulysses

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities, lan­guage, and style. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer, the video series The City in Cin­e­ma, the crowd­fund­ed jour­nal­ism project Where Is the City of the Future?, and the Los Ange­les Review of Books’ Korea Blog. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

Discover Europeana Collections, a Portal of 48 Million Free Artworks, Books, Videos, Artifacts & Sounds from Across Europe

MNAC 72

“Where is the wis­dom we have lost in knowl­edge? Where is the knowl­edge we have lost in infor­ma­tion?,” asked T.S. Eliot in lines from his play “The Rock.” His pre­scient descrip­tion of the dawn­ing infor­ma­tion age has inspired data sci­en­tists and their dis­senters for decades. Thir­ty-six years after Eliot’s prophet­ic lament over “End­less inven­tion, end­less exper­i­ment,” futur­ist Alvin Tof­fler described the effects of infor­ma­tion over­load in his book Future Shock, and though many of his pre­dic­tions haven’t aged well, his “prog­no­sis,” writes Fast Com­pa­ny, “was more accu­rate than not.” Among his many “Tof­flerisms” is one I believe Eliot would appre­ci­ate: “The illit­er­ate of the future will not be the per­son who can­not read. It will be the per­son who does not know how to learn.”

Indeed, the expo­nen­tial accu­mu­la­tion of data and infor­ma­tion, and the incred­i­ble amount of ready access would make both men’s heads spin. Inter­net archives grow vaster and vaster, their con­tents an embar­rass­ing rich­ness of the world’s trea­sures, and a per­haps even greater store of its obscu­ri­ties. Each week, it seems, we bring you news of one or two more open access data­bas­es filled with images, texts, films, record­ed music. It can indeed be dizzy­ing. And of all the archives I’ve sur­veyed, used in my own research, and pre­sent­ed to Open Cul­ture read­ers, none has seemed to me vaster than Euro­peana Col­lec­tions, a por­tal of “48,796,394 art­works, arte­facts, books, videos and sounds from across Europe,” sourced from well over 100 insti­tu­tions such as The Euro­pean Library, Europho­to, the Nation­al Library of Fin­land, Uni­ver­si­ty Col­lege Dublin, Museo Galileo, and many, many more, includ­ing con­tri­bu­tions from the pub­lic at large. Where does one begin?

europeana grammophone

In such an enor­mous ware­house of cul­tur­al his­to­ry, one could begin any­where and in an instant come across some­thing of inter­est, such as the stun­ning col­lec­tion of Art Nou­veau posters like that fine exam­ple at the top, “Cer­cle Art­s­tique de Schaer­beek,” by Hen­ri Pri­vat-Live­mont (from the Plandiu­ra Col­lec­tion, cour­tesy of Museu Nacional d’Art de Catalynya, Barcelona). One might enter any one of the avail­able inter­ac­tive lessons and cours­es on the his­to­ry of World War I or vis­it some of the many exhibits on the peri­od, with let­ters, diaries, pho­tographs, films, offi­cial doc­u­ments, and war pro­pa­gan­da. One might stop by the vir­tu­al exhib­it, “Pho­tog­ra­phy on a Sil­ver Plate,” a fas­ci­nat­ing his­to­ry of the medi­um from 1839–1860, or “Record­ing and Play­ing Machines,” a his­to­ry of exact­ly what it sounds like, or a gallery of the work of Swiss painter Jean Antoine Linck. All of the arti­facts have source and licens­ing infor­ma­tion clear­ly indi­cat­ed.

Vue du Mont-Blanc, prise du Sommet du Col de Balme

The pos­si­bil­i­ties may lit­er­al­ly be end­less, as the col­lec­tion con­tin­ues to expand at a rate far beyond the abil­i­ty of any one per­son, or team of peo­ple, or entire research insti­tute of peo­ple to match. It is easy to feel adrift in such a data­base as this, which stretch­es on like a Bor­ge­sian library, offer­ing room after end­less room of visu­al splen­dor, doc­u­men­ta­tion, and inter­pre­ta­tion. It is also easy to make dis­cov­er­ies, to meet peo­ple, stum­ble upon art, hear music, see pho­tographs, learn his­to­ries you would nev­er have encoun­tered if you knew what you were look­ing for and knew exact­ly how to find it. Eliot warned us—and right­ly so—of the dan­gers of infor­ma­tion over­load. But he neglect­ed, in his puri­tan­i­cal way, to describe the plea­sures, the minor epipha­nies, the hap­py chance occur­rences afford­ed us by the ever-expand­ing sea of infor­ma­tion in which we swim. One can learn to nav­i­gate it, one can drift aim­less­ly, and one can, simul­ta­ne­ous­ly, feel immense­ly over­whelmed.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

New Archive Makes Avail­able 800,000 Pages Doc­u­ment­ing the His­to­ry of Film, Tele­vi­sion & Radio

Yale Launch­es an Archive of 170,000 Pho­tographs Doc­u­ment­ing the Great Depres­sion

The New York Pub­lic Library Lets You Down­load 180,000 Images in High Res­o­lu­tion: His­toric Pho­tographs, Maps, Let­ters & More

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

Map of Middle-Earth Annotated by Tolkien Found in a Copy of Lord of the Rings

tolkien map

Image via Blackwell’s Rare Books

Back in April, we high­light­ed for you a trove of 110 illus­tra­tions by J.R.R. Tolkien, offer­ing a rare glimpse of the author’s artis­tic tal­ents. Tolkien did­n’t just like to write books, as we saw. He also liked to draw illus­tra­tions for these books, which helped him to con­cep­tu­al­ize the fan­ta­sy worlds he was cre­at­ing.

Just this month, Houghton Mif­flin released a new book called The Art of The Lord of the Rings by J.R.R. Tolkien, which brings togeth­er more than 180 draw­ings, inscrip­tions, maps, and plans–all drawn by Tolkien as part of his world­build­ing cre­ative process. Most were nev­er pub­lished until now.

And then we get this: a new­ly-dis­cov­ered map anno­tat­ed by Tolkien. Found in a copy of The Lord of the Rings that orig­i­nal­ly belonged to Pauline Baynes (the artist who illus­trat­ed Tolkien’s nov­els in print), the map intrigu­ing­ly con­nects Tolkien’s fan­ta­sy world to real places on our globe. Accord­ing to The Guardian, anno­ta­tions on the map (click here to view the mate­ri­als in a larg­er for­mat) sug­gests that “Hob­biton is on the same lat­i­tude as Oxford [where Tolkien taught], and implies that the Ital­ian city of Raven­na could be the inspi­ra­tion behind the fic­tion­al city of Minas Tirith.” Bel­grade, Cyprus, and Jerusalem also get list­ed as ref­er­ence points. Dis­cov­ered by Blackwell’s Rare Books, the rare map will be put on the mar­ket for an ask­ing price of £60,000.

You can learn more about this map, con­sid­ered “per­haps the finest piece of Tolkien ephemera to emerge in the last 20 years,” over at The Guardian.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

110 Draw­ings and Paint­ings by J.R.R. Tolkien: Of Mid­dle-Earth and Beyond

Dis­cov­er J.R.R. Tolkien’s Per­son­al Book Cov­er Designs for The Lord of the RingsTril­o­gy

The Only Draw­ing from Mau­rice Sendak’s Short-Lived Attempt to Illus­trate The Hob­bit

Hear J.R.R. Tolkien Read From The Lord of the Rings and The Hob­bit

Sovi­et-Era Illus­tra­tions Of J. R. R. Tolkien’s The Hob­bit (1976)

David Lynch Draws a Map of Twin Peaks (to Help Pitch the Show to ABC)

Twin Peaks Map

“How did this even get on the air?” Both the die-hard fans and bewil­dered haters asked that ques­tion about Twin Peaks, David Lynch and Mark Frost’s sur­re­al tele­vi­sion dra­ma that famous­ly aired on ABC prime­time in 1990 and 1991. That such an uncon­ven­tion­al vision — and one real­ized, at least through­out the first sea­son, with such thor­ough com­mit­ment — ever made it to the main­stream air­waves now seems like a his­tor­i­cal achieve­ment in and of itself. So how, giv­en the stul­ti­fy­ing rig­ors of the enter­tain­ment indus­try, did Lynch and Frost actu­al­ly sell this pack­age of cryp­tic dreams, back­ward speech, small-town sav­agery, a mur­dered home­com­ing queen, and damn fine cher­ry pie?

First, Lynch drew a map. Know­ing that no TV exec­u­tive would under­stand Twin Peaks with­out under­stand­ing Twin Peaks, the fic­tion­al Wash­ing­ton town which gives the sto­ry its set­ting and title, he drew what you see above. Nigel Holmes includ­ed it in his out-of-print Pic­to­r­i­al Maps, com­ment­ing that “the peaks of the title, and the town they name, are clear­ly vis­i­ble as white-topped moun­tains ris­ing out of the mod­eled land­scape.

By cre­at­ing a sense of place, Lynch made the town all the more believ­able. A straight­for­ward map would have been dull by com­par­i­son and might have sug­gest­ed that there was some­thing intrin­si­cal­ly inter­est­ing about the geog­ra­phy of the place. What was much more impor­tant to con­vey was the mood of the sto­ry, and it’s nice­ly cap­tured in Lynch’s quirky draw­ing.”

The book also includes a quote from Lynch him­self, on the util­i­ty of the map: “We knew where every­thing was, and it helped us decide what mood each place had, and what could hap­pen there. Then the char­ac­ters just intro­duced them­selves to us and walked into the sto­ry.” As any Twin Peaks fan will notice, the map iden­ti­fies a host of loca­tions ref­er­enced in the show, such as White Tail and Blue Pine moun­tains (the peaks them­selves), Ghost­wood Nation­al For­est, and Lucky High­way 21. But “can you locate Spark­wood and 21, One-Eyed Jack’s and The Great North­ern?” asks fan site Wel­come to Twin Peaks. And if the much-dis­cussed 21st-cen­tu­ry Twin Peaks revival comes to fruition, will it dust off this trusty ref­er­ence doc­u­ment and revive the askew but deep sense of place we (or at least some us) savored the first time around?

Relat­ed Con­tent:

David Lynch’s Twin Peaks Title Sequence, Recre­at­ed in an Adorable Paper Ani­ma­tion

Play the Twin Peaks Video Game: Retro Fun for David Lynch Fans

Ele­men­tary School Stu­dents Per­form in a Play Inspired by David Lynch’s Twin Peaks

Col­in Mar­shall writes else­where on cities, lan­guage, Asia, and men’s style. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer, the video series The City in Cin­e­maand the crowd­fund­ed jour­nal­ism project Where Is the City of the Future? Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

Animated Map Lets You Watch the Unfolding of Every Day of the U.S. Civil War (1861–1865)

The bor­der-obsessed map ani­ma­tor known as Emper­or Tiger­star views war from a dis­tance. The Emper­or leaves such details as jour­nal entries, let­ters home, and tales of val­or and cow­ardice for oth­er his­to­ry buffs.

His niche is metic­u­lous­ly clock­ing the defeat and tri­umph in terms of shift­ing ter­ri­to­ries, by year, by fort­night, and, in the case of World War I and World War II, by day.

His five minute take on the Amer­i­can Civ­il War, above, leaves out most of the hair-rais­ing small scale skir­mish­es famil­iar from the pages of The Red Badge of Courage.

Trans-Mis­sis­sip­pi The­ater aside, it also makes plain how lit­tle ground the Con­fed­er­ates gained after 1861.

The Blue and the Gray are here rep­re­sent­ed by blue and red, with the mus­tard-col­ored dis­put­ed bor­der states pick­ing sides before the first minute is out. (The Union’s Naval Block­ade is in for­ma­tion with­in sec­onds.)

Leg­end:

Maroon = Con­fed­er­ate States of Amer­i­ca and ter­ri­to­ries

Red = Areas occu­pied by Con­fed­er­ate forces

Pink = Gains for that Day

Dark Blue = Unit­ed States of Amer­i­ca and ter­ri­to­ries

Blue = Areas occu­pied by Union forces.

Light blue = Gains for that day

Yel­low = Bor­der states / dis­put­ed areas.

The mag­ni­tude is mov­ing, espe­cial­ly when paired with ground-lev­el obser­va­tions, be they fic­tion­al, his­tor­i­cal or eye­wit­ness.

Even the place-names on the map, which now were mere­ly quaint, would take on the sound of crack­ling flame and dis­tant thun­der, the Bib­li­cal, Indi­an and Anglo-Sax­on names of ham­lets and creeks and cross­roads, for the most part unim­por­tant in them­selves until the day when the armies came togeth­er, as often by acci­dent as on pur­pose, to give the scat­tered names a per­ma­nence and set­tle what man­ner of life future gen­er­a­tions were to lead.  

His­to­ri­an Shel­by Foote, The Civ­il War: A Nar­ra­tive

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Watch World War I Unfold in a 6 Minute Time-Lapse Film: Every Day From 1914 to 1918

Watch World War II Rage Across Europe in a 7 Minute Time-Lapse Film: Every Day From 1939 to 1945

“The Civ­il War and Recon­struc­tion,” a New MOOC by Pulitzer-Prize Win­ning His­to­ri­an Eric Fon­er

Ayun Hal­l­i­day is an author, illus­tra­tor, and Chief Pri­ma­tol­o­gist of the East Vil­lage Inky zine. Her play, Fawn­book, opens in New York City lat­er this fall. Fol­low her @AyunHalliday

Behold the Largest Atlas in the World: The Six-Foot Tall Klencke Atlas from 1660

biggest book in the world

Last week, we fea­tured the free dig­i­tal edi­tion of the The His­to­ry of Car­tog­ra­phy. Or what’s been called “the most ambi­tious overview of map mak­ing ever under­tak­en.” The three-vol­ume series con­tains illus­tra­tions of count­less maps, pro­duced over hun­dreds of years. And it, of course, ref­er­ences this fine spec­i­men: A gift giv­en to Eng­land’s Charles II in 1660, The Klencke Atlas fea­tured state-of-the-art maps of the con­ti­nents and var­i­ous Euro­pean states. It was also notable for its size. Stand­ing six feet tall and six feet wide (when opened), the vol­ume remains 355 years lat­er the largest atlas in the world. Learn more about it with the BBC clip below.

If you would like to sign up for Open Culture’s free email newslet­ter, please find it here. Or fol­low our posts on Threads, Face­book, BlueSky or Mastodon.

If you would like to sup­port the mis­sion of Open Cul­ture, con­sid­er mak­ing a dona­tion to our site. It’s hard to rely 100% on ads, and your con­tri­bu­tions will help us con­tin­ue pro­vid­ing the best free cul­tur­al and edu­ca­tion­al mate­ri­als to learn­ers every­where. You can con­tribute through Pay­Pal, Patre­on, and Ven­mo (@openculture). Thanks!

Relat­ed Con­tent:

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

A Won­der­ful Sci­en­tif­ic Map of the Moon from 1679: Can You Spot the Secret Moon Maid­en?

Galileo’s Moon Draw­ings, the First Real­is­tic Depic­tions of the Moon in His­to­ry (1609–1610)

New York Pub­lic Library Puts 20,000 Hi-Res Maps Online & Makes Them Free to Down­load and Use

by | Permalink | Make a Comment ( 3 ) |

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

history of cartography2

Worth a quick men­tion: The Uni­ver­si­ty of Chica­go Press has made avail­able online — at no cost — the first three vol­umes of The His­to­ry of Car­tog­ra­phy. Or what Edward Roth­stein, of The New York Times, called “the most ambi­tious overview of map mak­ing ever under­tak­en.” He con­tin­ues:

Peo­ple come to know the world the way they come to map it—through their per­cep­tions of how its ele­ments are con­nect­ed and of how they should move among them. This is pre­cise­ly what the series is attempt­ing by sit­u­at­ing the map at the heart of cul­tur­al life and reveal­ing its rela­tion­ship to soci­ety, sci­ence, and reli­gion…. It is try­ing to define a new set of rela­tion­ships between maps and the phys­i­cal world that involve more than geo­met­ric cor­re­spon­dence. It is in essence a new map of human attempts to chart the world.

If you head over to this page, then look in the upper left, you will see links to three vol­umes (avail­able in a free PDF for­mat). My sug­ges­tion would be to look at the gallery of col­or illus­tra­tions for each book, links to which you’ll find below. The image above, appear­ing in Vol. 2, dates back to 1534. It was cre­at­ed by Oronce Fine, the first chair of math­e­mat­ics in the Col­lège Roy­al (aka the Col­lège de France), and it fea­tures the world mapped in the shape of a heart. Pret­ty great.

Vol­ume 1

Gallery of Col­or Illus­tra­tions

Vol­ume 2: Part 1

Gallery of Col­or Illus­tra­tions (Plates 1–24)
Gallery of Col­or Illus­tra­tions (Plates 25–40)

Vol­ume 2: Part 2

Gallery of Col­or Illus­tra­tions (Plates 1–16)
Gallery of Col­or Illus­tra­tions (Plates 17–40)

Vol­ume 2: Part 3

Gallery of Col­or Illus­tra­tions (Plates 1–8)
Gallery of Col­or Illus­tra­tions (Plates 9 –24)

Vol­ume 3: Part 1

Gallery of Col­or Illus­tra­tions (Plates 1–24)
Gallery of Col­or Illus­tra­tions (Plates 25–40)

Vol­ume 3: Part 2

Gallery of Col­or Illus­tra­tions (Plates 41–56)
Gallery of Col­or Illus­tra­tions (Plates 57–80)

Note: If you buy Vol 1. on Ama­zon, it will run you $248. As beau­ti­ful as the book prob­a­bly is, you’ll prob­a­bly appre­ci­ate this free dig­i­tal offer­ing. The series will be added to our col­lec­tion, 800 Free eBooks for iPad, Kin­dle & Oth­er Devices.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

A Won­der­ful Sci­en­tif­ic Map of the Moon from 1679: Can You Spot the Secret Moon Maid­en?

Galileo’s Moon Draw­ings, the First Real­is­tic Depic­tions of the Moon in His­to­ry (1609–1610)

New York Pub­lic Library Puts 20,000 Hi-Res Maps Online & Makes Them Free to Down­load and Use

by | Permalink | Make a Comment ( 4 ) |

The First Scientific Map of the Moon (1679)

moon-lg (1)

Mil­lions watched as astro­naut Neil Arm­strong put boots to the moon in 1969.

It was, as he famous­ly remarked, one “giant leap for mankind,” but from a sci­en­tif­ic stand­point the ter­ri­to­ry was far from vir­gin.

Near­ly 300 years ear­li­er, engi­neer Gio­van­ni Domeni­co Cassi­ni, astronomer to Sun King Louis XIV, made lunar his­to­ry in 1679, when he pub­lished the first sci­en­tif­ic map of the moon, above.

Need­less to say, the event was not tele­vised and Cassi­ni nev­er had the oppor­tu­ni­ty to walk on the sur­face he stud­ied. Instead he observed it through the eye­piece of a tele­scope, a rel­a­tive­ly new inven­tion.

His pre­de­ces­sors, includ­ing Galileo, used the then-rev­o­lu­tion­ary tool to delve deep­er into their own lunar obses­sions, mak­ing sketch­es and per­form­ing exper­i­ments designed to repli­cate the craters they noticed in the moon’s crust.

Cassi­ni, then eight years into his forty year career as Direc­tor of the Paris Obser­va­to­ry, pro­duced a map so exhaus­tive, it pro­vid­ed his peers with far more details of the moon’s sur­face than they had with regard to their own plan­et.

He also used his pow­ers of obser­va­tion to expand human under­stand­ing of Mars, Sat­urn, and France itself (which turned out to be much small­er than pre­vi­ous­ly believed).

moon maiden

 

A man of sci­ence, he may not have been entire­ly immune to the sort of moon-based whim­sy that has long infect­ed poets, song­writ­ers, and 19th-cen­tu­ry roman­tic hero­ines. Hid­ing in the low­er right quad­rant, near Cape Her­a­clides on the Sinus Iridum (aka Bay of Rain­bows), is a tiny, bare-shoul­dered moon maid. See right above.

Or per­haps this appeal­ing­ly play­ful vision can be attrib­uted to Cassini’s engraver Claude Mel­lan.

Either way, she seems exact­ly the sort of female life form a 17th-cen­tu­ry human male might hope to encounter on a trip to the moon.

via Pick­over Real­i­ty Car­ni­val

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Free Online Astron­o­my Cours­es

Galileo’s Moon Draw­ings, the First Real­is­tic Depic­tions of the Moon in His­to­ry (1609–1610)

The Birth of the Moon: How Did It Get There in the First Place?

Michio Kaku Schools Takes on Moon Land­ing-Con­spir­a­cy Believ­er on His Sci­ence Fan­tas­tic Pod­cast

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

« Go BackMore in this category... »
Quantcast