BEST OF: Medicine
I thought I'd take the time to post some of the papers I am most proud of in my entire undergraduate career. This one is one of The Best because:
a) it was very well received
b) it eloquently expresses the BIG THING that made me a medievalist and has kept me from dropping out of school and has probably given every new person I meet the impression that I'm a total quack
c) It was completed in one glorious night of Redbull and hysterics. I watched the sun come up with tears in my eyes, and look what I have to show for it! Proof that hard work pays, goddmamit.
If you have any interest at all in how medical manuscripts (or any kind of manuscript for that matter) were created and illustrated in the Middle Ages, or an interest in historical medicinincal practice and education in the West, then maybe you should take a gander. You might just enjoy it!
Exploring the Body:
The Art and Method of Medieval Anatomical Illustration
Medical illustrations in manuscripts produced in the medieval West were subject to limitations rooted in the complexities of the topic. Arguments based on the contention between church doctrine and scientific study notwithstanding, the relatively small collection of anatomical illustrations based in real scientific fact from this period is due in part to the difficulty of transmission of intricate images in pre-printing press culture, and to the connection of these images to texts which aim to simplify a difficult subject. These are the theoretical texts displaying a contemporary penchant for metaphors, and the more practical anatomical texts making use of the roadmap-like structures found in geographical itineraries at the time.
In order to properly understand the goals behind the medical illustrations produced during the Middle Ages, one must first examine the conditions of their production. The system of scholarship practiced during this period was based on the comprehension and reiteration of earlier authoritative texts; that is to say, students of medicine in early Universities were procuring their knowledge of the human body almost exclusively from texts. These texts were taught through a three tiered system involving the professor reading from the text, a discussion of the text by students and professor-aimed at solving apparent contradictions and explaining unclear things-, and finally a processing of the meaning of the text and a summary. It is during this processing when complicated natural systems of the body are simplified for easier comprehension. The professor may attempt to conduct this simplification through analogy, drawing parallels with common objects, or simple geometrical and architectural figures (Roberts 7). The words then turn into diagrams illustrating the reduced concepts either through direct translation of the related metaphors or through very basic and one-dimensional diagrams elucidated with the hep of large blocks of text. These illustrations would accompany texts in some manuscripts sometimes to contribute to the subject matter and sometimes only to compliment it.
One such manuscript is the Ashmole Manuscript (399). The conditions of its production are unclear, but scholars do know that “the illustrations were completed in the 1280s or 1290s in England, and the texts were likely filled in during the subsequent few decades” (Whittington 4). In this case the illustrations were created to stand alone, likely spaced out in order to accommodate future texts which shared similar subject matter. One of the aspects of this manuscript that make it a fascinating model for approaching many medical manuscripts produced before and after it is it’s inclusion of a Fünfbilderserie, a five- or nine- illustration image-cycle that originated in ancient medical texts and continued to be produced throughout the Middle Ages. The inclusion of such a model further demonstrates the autonomy of the images from the texts found in the manuscript. “The Fünfbilderserie was strictly a series of drawings, not texts, and thus the texts in Ashmole 399 are not necessarily meant to explain the images; here, text and image transmit related but separate bodies of knowledge” (Whittington 4). It is thought that “the readership of such a manuscript would likely have consisted of physicians, mathematicians, and natural scientists…Though we know nothing of the manuscript’s specific provenance- it may have been made for a university, monastery, or an independent individual patron- it clearly participated in established scientific discourses” (Whittington 4). Though it would be improper to assume that all medical manuscripts of the period resembled the Ashmole M.S, the wide range of anatomical discussion and the varied traditions of visual representations present in the text make it an excellent foothold for comprehending the tradition of anatomical illustration up to that point in history.
Many scholars wish to attribute the abstract-and what they would deem immature-representations of the human body during the Middle Ages to the producer’s resolute faith in God. This argument based in the iconoclastic origins of early Christianity is an oft repeated theme in discussions about medieval art and sciences. Christianity did indeed have an effect on the form anatomical illustrations took when produced under the roof of God; however the influence is little more than negligible. Boris Röhrl, in his book called The History and Bibliography of Artistic Anatomy, claims that “…the only criterion that counted was the spiritual content of the image” (Röhrl 26). From his perspective, as an enthusiast of such anatomy-based early modern artists as Leonardo da Vinci, the irrationality of the illustrations created during this period demonstrate a misplaced desire for cohesion with religion. “Attempts at metaphysical interpretation of the human body were common; that, its proportions served as a microcosmos and a mirror of a divinely created macrocosmos in a harmonious plan were a topos of Christian theology” (Röhrl 26). However, as will be explored in this essay, there are many other factors to take into account when assessing the nature of anatomical illustration during this period.
Perhaps most pertinent to the topic of medieval manuscripts is the question of publication. Before the printing press was introduced to the West in 1440 it was quite difficult to reproduce texts en masse. This was also true of images, in general, although woodblock technology was being used to reproduce simpler images by that time. The production of a manuscript was a complicated process of harnessing expensive materials and of reproducing texts and images by hand. Röhrl explains that “medical treatises were rarely supplemented with schematic diagrams” and this can be at least partially attributed to the massive difficulties in reproducing these images in subsequent copies of manuscripts (Röhrl 27). These texts were subject to human error in away that was diminished with the advent of the printing press: use of abbreviations, misspellings, mistranslations, and sometimes even messy handwriting could create and propagate errors in the text that is being produced. Similarly, the reproduction of illustrations was a difficult task, especially in circumstances where the scribe knew nothing of the subject being discussed. In K.B. Roberts’ book The Fabric of the Body, the author compares two illustrations (Appendix A) that were likely either copied from the same original source, or the one copied from the other (Roberts 24). Both of these images describe the venous system, but the first, more nuanced image comes from the previously discussed Ashmole Manuscript, and the second comes from Caius, and compares weakly in its crude form. One can infer from this comparison that reproducing a precise anatomical image would be an unwieldy task to the scribe whose specialty was creative and elucidating illustrations, and in all probability not medical anatomy.
Due to this difficulty in reproducing such images, showing simple relationships were often preferred over complex and detailed anatomical illustrations (Roberts 8). Not until the printing press came into popular use did it become practical to include detailed and nuanced medical illustrations. Other manuscript illustrations involving medical procedures are also preferred, such as images of doctor patient relationships, which successfully elucidate the subject matter, but do not provide any useful basis for medical study. Detailed texts about specific procedures such as bloodletting and cautery were often accompanied by annotated illustrations, which were handy combinations of the creative art of manuscript illuminating-made by scribes with little to no knowledge of anatomy-and useful reference tool for students of medicine. They often featured the human body, heavily annotated and indicated as to the best places to perform the necessary procedure.
However difficult it may have been to reproduce these images, they were a key aspect of those manuscripts in which they were included. They were used not only to illustrate texts but also as teaching tools themselves. But, then, why do they not attempt a realistic depiction of what important systems they are describing? What else keeps them distant from the early modern system of anatomical correctness? This question is complicated by Röhrl’s assertion that the theories of Vitruvius were indeed widely known in the medieval world:
“Although the interpretation of the human image differs to a great degree between Antiquity and the Middle Ages, knowledge about the theory of proportions was passed on. The Canon of Vitruvius was known during the Carolingian period as well as in the following centuries, and numerous copies were circulating, the oldest having been possibly written in the 9th century” (Röhrl 27).
So why didn’t medieval artists study and use these theories which helped early modern artists achieve anatomical realism? One theory states that anatomical realism was unnecessary to the goals of the artists involved in producing such images. Robert Herrlinger refutes the question of lack of knowledge on the subject of anatomy through a simple microcosmic exercise. It is well disputed that anatomical illustration in this period was an inaccurate science due to the miniscule number of dissections practiced at the time. Though this may be a viable factor in the case of illustrating interior organs and other delicate systems that decay after death, it does not account for images of skeletons (Appendix B), the bones of which may have been readily available to anyone who wished to study them:
“It remains one of the most astonishing phenomena in the history of medicine that not until 1538 was an anatomical object as accessible as the bones of the human body drawn “correctly”-that is, from nature-in medieval literature…there is no better proof for the theory that naturalistic medical illustration…was not needed before 1500, than the total non-existence of natural skeleton figures even at the end of the 15th century” (Herrlinger 43).
Herrlinger ascribes this issue to a medieval interest in the metaphorical aspects of the skeleton. The connotations of death were fascinating to the artists of the period, and this fascination crept into the realm of medical knowledge. The development of medicine being primarily undertaken through a fascination with lifecycles, health and of course the prevention of death, the skeleton seems an apt symbol for this branch of science. “No other sector of medical illustration has been so obviously subject to a formative influence from outside medical science as the representation of the human skeleton, which is simultaneously a symbolization of death” (Herrlinger 42), says Herrlinger. This metaphorical meaning is carried out not only in depictions of skeletons, but also in depictions of many other less thoroughly available bodily systems such as soft tissue organs. The relationship between the skeleton illustrations and those of inner organs is founded in their basis in metaphor. The struggle between the vague remembrance of Vitruvian models and the contemporary love of metaphors creates a tension in the images produced during the Middle Ages. Art of the time was developed out of a basis in three-dimensionality, and so were medical illustrations, but ideas and layers of meaning that related more pertinently to the information being provided were given precedence (Röhr 26).
Though advancements in anatomy were being made through more frequent dissection in Italy with the help of such scholars of anatomy as Mondino de’ Luzzi and his book on anatomy, the Anathomia Mundini (1316), the knowledge gained from this and other ancient books did not have an effect on the representation of the human figure for a long time to come. Artistic practice did not rapidly shift with new and more accessible anatomical knowledge. Rather, the priorities of artistic practice shifted gradually over time, eventually allowing for the exploration and appropriation of naturalistic forms.
One of the most challenging aspects of teaching medicine in the Middle Ages is the intricate and detailed nature of the subject. The practical facet of medicine made the subject especially difficult to teach using only the theory provided by texts. Leonardo da Vinci wrote: “I counsel you not to cumber yourself with words unless you are speaking to the blind…How in words can you describe this heart without filling a whole book? Yet the more detail you write concerning it the more you will confuse the mind of the hearer” (Roberts 7). These words are pertinent to the significance of anatomical illustration to the advancement of medical discovery in the early modern period, but can also be applied to the examination of the difficulties inherent in the process of not only reproducing the images, but creating them in the first place. Medieval anatomical illustrators had to work through these difficulties, and the manifestation of their attempt is evident in two forms of illustrations: the metaphor and the road-map. Both types held different meanings and were used for different purposes, often associated with whichever of the two forms the accompanying text took.
The first form that medical illustrations took is one heavily rooted in metaphor. The images in this category are characterized by a prioritization of symbolic meaning over more natural or realistic forms of representation. These images often took the form of series' and groups of thematic illustrations depicting multiple ideas about one particular type of system or branch of medicine. As can be seen in the Ashmole Manuscript (399), the Fünfbilderserie is one such traditional collection of thematic illustrations. The five figure series included in this manuscript describes individual bodily systems such as the venous and arterial systems, with no tangible relationship to the exterior of the form. These images were not intended to convey precise information, but were rather constructed as a signifier, symbolically indicating those systems of the body they describe (Roberts 22). The body merely contains the systems, which float about unhinged inside the unknown space of the human interior.
“Anatomical illustrations can only be constructed with reference to the actual object. Before the revival of dissection, illustrations were often fanciful; some were diagrams based on textual descriptions transmitted, sometimes accurately, from times when anatomical specimens were available. Others were debased copies of figures that might have been used to illustrate the original texts” (Roberts 14).
As with the illustrations compared in Roberts’ work, transmission of these images from copy to copy changed their meaning as each scribe dealt with them through their own scope of knowledge and the didactic purpose of the text. Though the issue of shifting meaning was controlled through systems of regulation-copies were often made of standard manuscripts which were approved by scholars for reproduction purposes-the shifts could not be helped, as varying needs for quality and audience were taken into account, and never failed to alter the final product. But those that were not copied from previous illustrations were direct interpretations of the texts they accompanied, taking on common metaphors employed by scholars in the process of simplification. The priority of such images was placed primarily on their symbolic meaning.
A similar deprioritizing of realistic representation is found in early works on geography and travel. World maps-or Mappaemundi (Appendix C)-function as purely representational images; it is quite impossible to navigate by these maps because they are so heavily laden with symbolism and metaphor. Major cities and landmarks float about in a vague circular space. The image is meant to leave one with an impression of hierarchy and a general idea of where places are in relation to one another. The second form that medical illustrations took to solve the problem of teaching complicated theory was a more practical approach. Similarly to medieval itineraries, these illustrations used measurements and landmarks to create precise relationships within a very limited scope. Just as itineraries were the only practical travel tool in their time, these illustrations functioned as specific and precise meditations on the topic they depicted, meant for teaching simplified medicine: “these designs conveyed an idea, sometimes erroneous, of number or relationship, but not of shape or relative size” (Roberts 14-15), says Roberts, making them a perfect compliment to abstract texts in the absence of cadavers to dissect.
One such design is that of the ocular system found in the Ashmole manuscript (Appendix D). The illustration is heavily tied to the text that surrounds it, though the depiction of the system itself is clear and rational. It’s major pitfall is to be found in it’s literal interpretation of the geometry of the human body. Though Vitruvius left the Middle Ages with texts elaborating mathematical theories on physical systems, the application of geometry in this case produces an image that is as abstract as the metaphorical form previously discussed. The famous 13th century artist and architect Villard de Honnecourt used geometric shapes as mnemonic aids in drawing humans and animals, forcing the natural shapes of the human body into ordered and mathematical-though too often arbitrary-moulds. This can be said to be a factor common to many artists of the period, due in all likelihood to the simplicity of the system. It is easy to break down the human body into parts that are simply understood as shapes in relation to one another. This does, however, reduce the range of the system being described; many of these drawings limited themselves to very small and independent systems, removing them entirely from the context of the body, and once again resulting in an untethered system completely lacking in context. In the ocular image, “modern viewers can decipher easily only a few… forms: to us, the drawing resembles some kind of map or abstract diagram more than a representation of actual anatomy, or anything else recognizable, for that matter. Strangest of all to our eyes, there is no contour or outline of the external body in this representation…The forms describe a system unconnected to and seemingly independent of the body as a whole. While this is the case with anatomical diagrams, where the tiniest parts of the body are blown up to stand on their own, this particular image provides an extreme example - its forms are completely two-dimensional, and exist without concrete boundaries or obvious connections to a larger system” (Whittington 1-2). Though these two types of anatomical illustrations work under different assumptions of meaning and didactic demands, the result is quite similar: the production of anatomical illustrations in the medieval West was hindered by attempts to simplify the subject-resulting in alienation of bodily systems from their larger context-, and further halted by the difficulties implicit in producing such images in pre-printing press culture.
Appendix
Missing! Sorry, this one got lost in the archives.
Bibliography
Röhrl, Boris. History and Bibliography of Artistic Anatomy: Didactics for Depicting the Human Figure. New York: Olms, 2000.
Roberts, K.B. and J.D.W. Tomlinson. The Fabric of the Body: European Traditions of Anatomical Illustrations. New York: Oxford,1992.
MacKinney, Loren. Medical Illustrations in Medieval Manuscripts. London: Wellcome Historical Medical Library, 1965
Whittington, Karl. “The Cruciform Womb: Process, Symbol and Salvation in Bodelian Library MS. Ashmole 399.” Different Visions: A Journal of New Perspectives on Medieval Art, no. 1 (September 2008), .
Herrlinger, Robert. History of Medical Illustration: From Antiquity to 1600. New York: Editions Medicina Rara, 1970.
Because I'm nerdy awesome that way.
a) it was very well received
b) it eloquently expresses the BIG THING that made me a medievalist and has kept me from dropping out of school and has probably given every new person I meet the impression that I'm a total quack
c) It was completed in one glorious night of Redbull and hysterics. I watched the sun come up with tears in my eyes, and look what I have to show for it! Proof that hard work pays, goddmamit.
If you have any interest at all in how medical manuscripts (or any kind of manuscript for that matter) were created and illustrated in the Middle Ages, or an interest in historical medicinincal practice and education in the West, then maybe you should take a gander. You might just enjoy it!
Exploring the Body:
The Art and Method of Medieval Anatomical Illustration
Medical illustrations in manuscripts produced in the medieval West were subject to limitations rooted in the complexities of the topic. Arguments based on the contention between church doctrine and scientific study notwithstanding, the relatively small collection of anatomical illustrations based in real scientific fact from this period is due in part to the difficulty of transmission of intricate images in pre-printing press culture, and to the connection of these images to texts which aim to simplify a difficult subject. These are the theoretical texts displaying a contemporary penchant for metaphors, and the more practical anatomical texts making use of the roadmap-like structures found in geographical itineraries at the time.
In order to properly understand the goals behind the medical illustrations produced during the Middle Ages, one must first examine the conditions of their production. The system of scholarship practiced during this period was based on the comprehension and reiteration of earlier authoritative texts; that is to say, students of medicine in early Universities were procuring their knowledge of the human body almost exclusively from texts. These texts were taught through a three tiered system involving the professor reading from the text, a discussion of the text by students and professor-aimed at solving apparent contradictions and explaining unclear things-, and finally a processing of the meaning of the text and a summary. It is during this processing when complicated natural systems of the body are simplified for easier comprehension. The professor may attempt to conduct this simplification through analogy, drawing parallels with common objects, or simple geometrical and architectural figures (Roberts 7). The words then turn into diagrams illustrating the reduced concepts either through direct translation of the related metaphors or through very basic and one-dimensional diagrams elucidated with the hep of large blocks of text. These illustrations would accompany texts in some manuscripts sometimes to contribute to the subject matter and sometimes only to compliment it.
One such manuscript is the Ashmole Manuscript (399). The conditions of its production are unclear, but scholars do know that “the illustrations were completed in the 1280s or 1290s in England, and the texts were likely filled in during the subsequent few decades” (Whittington 4). In this case the illustrations were created to stand alone, likely spaced out in order to accommodate future texts which shared similar subject matter. One of the aspects of this manuscript that make it a fascinating model for approaching many medical manuscripts produced before and after it is it’s inclusion of a Fünfbilderserie, a five- or nine- illustration image-cycle that originated in ancient medical texts and continued to be produced throughout the Middle Ages. The inclusion of such a model further demonstrates the autonomy of the images from the texts found in the manuscript. “The Fünfbilderserie was strictly a series of drawings, not texts, and thus the texts in Ashmole 399 are not necessarily meant to explain the images; here, text and image transmit related but separate bodies of knowledge” (Whittington 4). It is thought that “the readership of such a manuscript would likely have consisted of physicians, mathematicians, and natural scientists…Though we know nothing of the manuscript’s specific provenance- it may have been made for a university, monastery, or an independent individual patron- it clearly participated in established scientific discourses” (Whittington 4). Though it would be improper to assume that all medical manuscripts of the period resembled the Ashmole M.S, the wide range of anatomical discussion and the varied traditions of visual representations present in the text make it an excellent foothold for comprehending the tradition of anatomical illustration up to that point in history.
Many scholars wish to attribute the abstract-and what they would deem immature-representations of the human body during the Middle Ages to the producer’s resolute faith in God. This argument based in the iconoclastic origins of early Christianity is an oft repeated theme in discussions about medieval art and sciences. Christianity did indeed have an effect on the form anatomical illustrations took when produced under the roof of God; however the influence is little more than negligible. Boris Röhrl, in his book called The History and Bibliography of Artistic Anatomy, claims that “…the only criterion that counted was the spiritual content of the image” (Röhrl 26). From his perspective, as an enthusiast of such anatomy-based early modern artists as Leonardo da Vinci, the irrationality of the illustrations created during this period demonstrate a misplaced desire for cohesion with religion. “Attempts at metaphysical interpretation of the human body were common; that, its proportions served as a microcosmos and a mirror of a divinely created macrocosmos in a harmonious plan were a topos of Christian theology” (Röhrl 26). However, as will be explored in this essay, there are many other factors to take into account when assessing the nature of anatomical illustration during this period.
Perhaps most pertinent to the topic of medieval manuscripts is the question of publication. Before the printing press was introduced to the West in 1440 it was quite difficult to reproduce texts en masse. This was also true of images, in general, although woodblock technology was being used to reproduce simpler images by that time. The production of a manuscript was a complicated process of harnessing expensive materials and of reproducing texts and images by hand. Röhrl explains that “medical treatises were rarely supplemented with schematic diagrams” and this can be at least partially attributed to the massive difficulties in reproducing these images in subsequent copies of manuscripts (Röhrl 27). These texts were subject to human error in away that was diminished with the advent of the printing press: use of abbreviations, misspellings, mistranslations, and sometimes even messy handwriting could create and propagate errors in the text that is being produced. Similarly, the reproduction of illustrations was a difficult task, especially in circumstances where the scribe knew nothing of the subject being discussed. In K.B. Roberts’ book The Fabric of the Body, the author compares two illustrations (Appendix A) that were likely either copied from the same original source, or the one copied from the other (Roberts 24). Both of these images describe the venous system, but the first, more nuanced image comes from the previously discussed Ashmole Manuscript, and the second comes from Caius, and compares weakly in its crude form. One can infer from this comparison that reproducing a precise anatomical image would be an unwieldy task to the scribe whose specialty was creative and elucidating illustrations, and in all probability not medical anatomy.
Due to this difficulty in reproducing such images, showing simple relationships were often preferred over complex and detailed anatomical illustrations (Roberts 8). Not until the printing press came into popular use did it become practical to include detailed and nuanced medical illustrations. Other manuscript illustrations involving medical procedures are also preferred, such as images of doctor patient relationships, which successfully elucidate the subject matter, but do not provide any useful basis for medical study. Detailed texts about specific procedures such as bloodletting and cautery were often accompanied by annotated illustrations, which were handy combinations of the creative art of manuscript illuminating-made by scribes with little to no knowledge of anatomy-and useful reference tool for students of medicine. They often featured the human body, heavily annotated and indicated as to the best places to perform the necessary procedure.
However difficult it may have been to reproduce these images, they were a key aspect of those manuscripts in which they were included. They were used not only to illustrate texts but also as teaching tools themselves. But, then, why do they not attempt a realistic depiction of what important systems they are describing? What else keeps them distant from the early modern system of anatomical correctness? This question is complicated by Röhrl’s assertion that the theories of Vitruvius were indeed widely known in the medieval world:
“Although the interpretation of the human image differs to a great degree between Antiquity and the Middle Ages, knowledge about the theory of proportions was passed on. The Canon of Vitruvius was known during the Carolingian period as well as in the following centuries, and numerous copies were circulating, the oldest having been possibly written in the 9th century” (Röhrl 27).
So why didn’t medieval artists study and use these theories which helped early modern artists achieve anatomical realism? One theory states that anatomical realism was unnecessary to the goals of the artists involved in producing such images. Robert Herrlinger refutes the question of lack of knowledge on the subject of anatomy through a simple microcosmic exercise. It is well disputed that anatomical illustration in this period was an inaccurate science due to the miniscule number of dissections practiced at the time. Though this may be a viable factor in the case of illustrating interior organs and other delicate systems that decay after death, it does not account for images of skeletons (Appendix B), the bones of which may have been readily available to anyone who wished to study them:
“It remains one of the most astonishing phenomena in the history of medicine that not until 1538 was an anatomical object as accessible as the bones of the human body drawn “correctly”-that is, from nature-in medieval literature…there is no better proof for the theory that naturalistic medical illustration…was not needed before 1500, than the total non-existence of natural skeleton figures even at the end of the 15th century” (Herrlinger 43).
Herrlinger ascribes this issue to a medieval interest in the metaphorical aspects of the skeleton. The connotations of death were fascinating to the artists of the period, and this fascination crept into the realm of medical knowledge. The development of medicine being primarily undertaken through a fascination with lifecycles, health and of course the prevention of death, the skeleton seems an apt symbol for this branch of science. “No other sector of medical illustration has been so obviously subject to a formative influence from outside medical science as the representation of the human skeleton, which is simultaneously a symbolization of death” (Herrlinger 42), says Herrlinger. This metaphorical meaning is carried out not only in depictions of skeletons, but also in depictions of many other less thoroughly available bodily systems such as soft tissue organs. The relationship between the skeleton illustrations and those of inner organs is founded in their basis in metaphor. The struggle between the vague remembrance of Vitruvian models and the contemporary love of metaphors creates a tension in the images produced during the Middle Ages. Art of the time was developed out of a basis in three-dimensionality, and so were medical illustrations, but ideas and layers of meaning that related more pertinently to the information being provided were given precedence (Röhr 26).
Though advancements in anatomy were being made through more frequent dissection in Italy with the help of such scholars of anatomy as Mondino de’ Luzzi and his book on anatomy, the Anathomia Mundini (1316), the knowledge gained from this and other ancient books did not have an effect on the representation of the human figure for a long time to come. Artistic practice did not rapidly shift with new and more accessible anatomical knowledge. Rather, the priorities of artistic practice shifted gradually over time, eventually allowing for the exploration and appropriation of naturalistic forms.
One of the most challenging aspects of teaching medicine in the Middle Ages is the intricate and detailed nature of the subject. The practical facet of medicine made the subject especially difficult to teach using only the theory provided by texts. Leonardo da Vinci wrote: “I counsel you not to cumber yourself with words unless you are speaking to the blind…How in words can you describe this heart without filling a whole book? Yet the more detail you write concerning it the more you will confuse the mind of the hearer” (Roberts 7). These words are pertinent to the significance of anatomical illustration to the advancement of medical discovery in the early modern period, but can also be applied to the examination of the difficulties inherent in the process of not only reproducing the images, but creating them in the first place. Medieval anatomical illustrators had to work through these difficulties, and the manifestation of their attempt is evident in two forms of illustrations: the metaphor and the road-map. Both types held different meanings and were used for different purposes, often associated with whichever of the two forms the accompanying text took.
The first form that medical illustrations took is one heavily rooted in metaphor. The images in this category are characterized by a prioritization of symbolic meaning over more natural or realistic forms of representation. These images often took the form of series' and groups of thematic illustrations depicting multiple ideas about one particular type of system or branch of medicine. As can be seen in the Ashmole Manuscript (399), the Fünfbilderserie is one such traditional collection of thematic illustrations. The five figure series included in this manuscript describes individual bodily systems such as the venous and arterial systems, with no tangible relationship to the exterior of the form. These images were not intended to convey precise information, but were rather constructed as a signifier, symbolically indicating those systems of the body they describe (Roberts 22). The body merely contains the systems, which float about unhinged inside the unknown space of the human interior.
“Anatomical illustrations can only be constructed with reference to the actual object. Before the revival of dissection, illustrations were often fanciful; some were diagrams based on textual descriptions transmitted, sometimes accurately, from times when anatomical specimens were available. Others were debased copies of figures that might have been used to illustrate the original texts” (Roberts 14).
As with the illustrations compared in Roberts’ work, transmission of these images from copy to copy changed their meaning as each scribe dealt with them through their own scope of knowledge and the didactic purpose of the text. Though the issue of shifting meaning was controlled through systems of regulation-copies were often made of standard manuscripts which were approved by scholars for reproduction purposes-the shifts could not be helped, as varying needs for quality and audience were taken into account, and never failed to alter the final product. But those that were not copied from previous illustrations were direct interpretations of the texts they accompanied, taking on common metaphors employed by scholars in the process of simplification. The priority of such images was placed primarily on their symbolic meaning.
A similar deprioritizing of realistic representation is found in early works on geography and travel. World maps-or Mappaemundi (Appendix C)-function as purely representational images; it is quite impossible to navigate by these maps because they are so heavily laden with symbolism and metaphor. Major cities and landmarks float about in a vague circular space. The image is meant to leave one with an impression of hierarchy and a general idea of where places are in relation to one another. The second form that medical illustrations took to solve the problem of teaching complicated theory was a more practical approach. Similarly to medieval itineraries, these illustrations used measurements and landmarks to create precise relationships within a very limited scope. Just as itineraries were the only practical travel tool in their time, these illustrations functioned as specific and precise meditations on the topic they depicted, meant for teaching simplified medicine: “these designs conveyed an idea, sometimes erroneous, of number or relationship, but not of shape or relative size” (Roberts 14-15), says Roberts, making them a perfect compliment to abstract texts in the absence of cadavers to dissect.
One such design is that of the ocular system found in the Ashmole manuscript (Appendix D). The illustration is heavily tied to the text that surrounds it, though the depiction of the system itself is clear and rational. It’s major pitfall is to be found in it’s literal interpretation of the geometry of the human body. Though Vitruvius left the Middle Ages with texts elaborating mathematical theories on physical systems, the application of geometry in this case produces an image that is as abstract as the metaphorical form previously discussed. The famous 13th century artist and architect Villard de Honnecourt used geometric shapes as mnemonic aids in drawing humans and animals, forcing the natural shapes of the human body into ordered and mathematical-though too often arbitrary-moulds. This can be said to be a factor common to many artists of the period, due in all likelihood to the simplicity of the system. It is easy to break down the human body into parts that are simply understood as shapes in relation to one another. This does, however, reduce the range of the system being described; many of these drawings limited themselves to very small and independent systems, removing them entirely from the context of the body, and once again resulting in an untethered system completely lacking in context. In the ocular image, “modern viewers can decipher easily only a few… forms: to us, the drawing resembles some kind of map or abstract diagram more than a representation of actual anatomy, or anything else recognizable, for that matter. Strangest of all to our eyes, there is no contour or outline of the external body in this representation…The forms describe a system unconnected to and seemingly independent of the body as a whole. While this is the case with anatomical diagrams, where the tiniest parts of the body are blown up to stand on their own, this particular image provides an extreme example - its forms are completely two-dimensional, and exist without concrete boundaries or obvious connections to a larger system” (Whittington 1-2). Though these two types of anatomical illustrations work under different assumptions of meaning and didactic demands, the result is quite similar: the production of anatomical illustrations in the medieval West was hindered by attempts to simplify the subject-resulting in alienation of bodily systems from their larger context-, and further halted by the difficulties implicit in producing such images in pre-printing press culture.
Appendix
Missing! Sorry, this one got lost in the archives.
Bibliography
Röhrl, Boris. History and Bibliography of Artistic Anatomy: Didactics for Depicting the Human Figure. New York: Olms, 2000.
Roberts, K.B. and J.D.W. Tomlinson. The Fabric of the Body: European Traditions of Anatomical Illustrations. New York: Oxford,1992.
MacKinney, Loren. Medical Illustrations in Medieval Manuscripts. London: Wellcome Historical Medical Library, 1965
Whittington, Karl. “The Cruciform Womb: Process, Symbol and Salvation in Bodelian Library MS. Ashmole 399.” Different Visions: A Journal of New Perspectives on Medieval Art, no. 1 (September 2008), .
Herrlinger, Robert. History of Medical Illustration: From Antiquity to 1600. New York: Editions Medicina Rara, 1970.
Because I'm nerdy awesome that way.