Kim H.

Veltman The Sources of Perspective THE SOURCES AND LITERATURE OF PERSPECTIVE, VOLUME I

To B.A.R. Carter, Sir Ernst Gombrich and Luigi Vagnetti

TABLE OF CONTENTS Acknowledgments Introduction 1.

iv-v vi-viii

DEFINITIONS AND ORIGINS 1-17 1. Introduction 2. Pseudo-perspectival Methods 3. Parallel-Perspective 4. Standard Methods 5. Picture Plane 6. Angular, Conic and Cylindrical Planes 7. Spherical Planes and Surfaces 8. Perspective and Anamorphosis 9. Geometry and the Distance Point 10. Optics and the Legitimate Construction 11. Practice and Theory 12. Architecture and Ruins 13. Surveying and Topography 14. Problems of Definition. 15. Conclusions. CENTRES 1. Introduction 2. Europe 3. Greater Europe 4. Britain 5. America 6. Far East and Elsewhere 7. Conclusions. TREATISES 1. Introduction 2. Early Treatises 3. Optics 4. Geometry 5. Architecture. 6. Themes 7. Categories 8. Conclusions. 18-61

2.

3.

62-90

4. CLASSIFICATION 1. Introduction 2. Optics 3. Architecture 6. Mathematics 7. Conclusions. 5.

91-108 4. Drawing 5.Drawing Education

INSTRUMENTATION AND SCIENCE 1. Introduction 2. Astronomy 3. Optics 4. Perspective 5. Mathematics 6. Mechanics and Physics 7. Centres 8. Modern Developments. ART AND REPRESENTATION 1. Introduction 2. Objects 3. Functions 6. Conclusions.

109-124

6.

125-139 4. Narrative 5. Contexts

7.

ARCHITECTURE AND ENVIRONMENT 1. Introduction 2. Italy 3. Netherlands 4. France 5. England

140-152 6. Conclusions. 153-171

8.

IMAGINATION AND FREEDOM 1. Introduction 2. Illusion and Metaphor 3. Theatre and Spectacle 4. Trompe l'Oeil 5. Old and New 6. Real and Imaginary 7. Literacy and Levels of Distance 8. New Functions of Art 9. Conclusions CONCLUSIONS NOTES ILLUSTRATIONS INDEXES

9. 10. 11. 12.

172-181 182-234 235-335 336-366

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS Projects such as this would be unthinkable without long term support. From September 1977 through September 1984 a generous series of fellowships from the Volkswagen, Humboldt, Thyssen and Gerda Henkel Foundations made it possible to concentrate on Leonardo da Vinci's perspective and optics and work part-time on the bibliography at the great Herzog August Bibliothek in Wolfenbttel. From September 1986 through June 1987 support from the Getty Trust made it possible to concentrate full time on the project. This continued from July 1987 to July 1989 with the aid of a Canada Research Fellowship. In the course of the past decade, hundreds of individuals have contributed to the bibliography. A number of these are mentioned in the introduction. Professors Andr Chastel, Decio Gioseffi, Kaori Kitao and Corrado Maltese kindly sent lists of titles and references. Particular thanks go to a handful of mentors whose interest, criticisms and counsel have helped to shape this project: Professors Eugenio Battisti, B.A.R. Carter, Samuel Y. Edgerton, Jr., Sir Ernst Gombrich and Luigi Vagnetti. Special thanks go to Professoressa Marisa Dalai-Emiliani who has patiently followed and encouraged every phase of the project. In Wolfenbttel there were also three individuals, unflinching in their support, whom I thank particularly: Professor Paul Raabe, Director of the Herzog August Bibliothek; Dr. Sabine Solf, Leiterin des Forschungsprogramms and Dr. HansHeinrich Solf. There was also Dr. Marie-Luise Zarnitz, of the Volkswagen Foundation, who visited regularly from Hanover. At the library, Anne-Marie Deegen was exemplary in her helpfulness. Ulrich Kopp gave advice. Gaby (ne Jckel) Lddecke, heroically ordered seven meters of photocopies through interlibrary loan. Uwe Jumtow, and subsequently Miss Schultze, kindly drove me to Gttingen and helped in the search. At the Niederschsische Staats-und Universittsbibliothek Messieurs Grobe and Mnther, patiently introduced me to standard reference works (Art Index, Rpertoire d'Art and R.I.L.A.); national book catalogues (Brinkmans, Estreicher, Lorenz, Pagliaini, etc.); then, via the mysteries of the 800-volume Real-Katalog, to specialized bibliographies (Draud, Lipenius, Murr, Murhard, Riccardi and thirty others, see Index I.A.). Reimar Eck, head of user services, was tireless in his patient help and counsel. By August 1986, the bibliography was based on the lists of 125 libraries. In addition books and manuscripts had been consulted in 34 libraries, particularly Gttingen, Leiden, London, Madrid, Paris and Wolfenbttel. Index I.C. lists cooperating libraries, plus many of the librarians who helped in consulting texts or answering queries concerning rare and spurious editions. As the information arrived it was transferred to handwritten file cards. In August 1986, Dr. Richard Dolen began preparing a preliminary programme which permits the information to be entered into an IBM PCAT using a DBase III Plus system.

At the Getty Center, the 15,000 titles were entered into a machine largely by Coley Grundmann and partly by Joseph Leon, with some help from Victor Bonino and Clay Stalls, two research assistants, who also continued the painstaking work of verifying titles and locations. Since 1987, Alan Brolley (Toronto) has continued to develop the computer version. At the Getty Center, Dr. Herbert Hymans, Peter Holliday, Steven Lanzarotta and Marianne Tegner were constantly helpful as were Dr. Marilyn Schmitt, Celine Alvey and John Logan at the Getty's Art History Information Program. Megan McFarland and Michelle Nordon kindly typed the first chapters of the draft. In Toronto, Shirley Fulford patiently typed the manuscript, which Professors B.A.R. Carter, M. Dalai Emiliani and Samuel Edgerton Jr. and Rocco Sinisgalli read fully. Professors Sir Ernst Gombrich, Andr Corboz, Dan Blickman, Ruth Mellinkoff and Drs. R. N. D Martin, and Richard Dolen kindly read sections. The original vision of the project owes much to my friend, Dr. Rolf Gerling (Zrich), who in the spring of 1981 generously took me on a three-month tour of the Mediterranean. As he drove the range rover its 12,000 miles from the straits of Gibraltar, through the mountains and plains of Tunisia, Sicily and Greece, along the coasts to Tarsus and finally back across the vast expanses of Turkey, he played Socrates, and challenged me to articulate a new approach to knowledge. Other friends, Udo Jauernig (Wolfenbttel), and Ian Stuart (London) listened many hours, as this approach gradually evolved as a multivalent bibliography. In the spring of 1986 a series of three lectures at Brigham Young University, generously arranged by my friend Professor Dan Blickman, helped clarify my ideas, as did the lecture with the Gesellschaft fr Klassifikation in Mnster arranged by Dr. Ingetraut Dahlberg. In Toronto my ideas were further developed with my colleague, Professor Ian Hacking, and friend, Sergio Sismondo, Jr. There was also the loyal encouragement of friends, particularly Professors Syd Eisen, Deirdre Vincent, Dr. Pauline and Don McGibbon and Diane Everett. Between the preparations in London, the ideas in Wolfenbttel and their accomplishment in Santa Monica and Toronto lay the vision of Dr. Kurt Forster, director of the new Getty Center for the History of Art and the Humanities as well as the generous support of the Getty Trust, the encouragement of the Director of the Institute for the History and Philosophy of Science and Technology, Professor M. P. Winsor, and the support of the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada. To these and to all who have contributed I am very grateful. In a sense, this project has been over thirty years in the making, although it has only begun to take serious shape in the past decade. As I read through the text, I am profoundly conscious of how much more there is to do, that this is an introduction in fact, as well as in name. And yet, if it proves to be truly that, if it can introduce more critical and discerning minds to a vast realm of human activity, whereby we render things visible, the many invisible hours will not have been in vain.

INTRODUCTION 1. Beginnings 2. Problems of method and More Problems of Method 1. Beginnings In March 1977, Professoressa Marisa Dalai Emiliani, was in London organizing the first world conference on perspective at the behest of Professor Eugenio Battisti. At the suggestion of Professors B.A.R. Carter, Sir Ernst Gombrich and John White she visited a young man who had recently finished a doctorate on the history of perspective and invited him to do a bibliography for the conference. The young man's interest in the subject went back to childhood. At fifteen, he had decided to learn about perspective and had asked the art teacher at his high school for instruction. The teacher went to the blackboard, drew an horizon line, put a vanishing point in the center and explained that in perspective all lines at right angles to the viewer converge at this point. By way of example he drew two boxshaped houses. Within five minutes the pupil had learned "all there was to know" as far as the teacher was concerned. The pupil went away both delighted that the truth was so wonderfully simple, and disappointed: How was it possible that myriad effects of depth with vast vistas real and imaginary as well as all those mysterious feats of illusionism and trompe l'oeil were governed by a simple dot on the blackboard? While preparing an undergraduate thesis on concepts of perfection and infinity with Professor Brayton Polka, (York University), the student found claims (Ivins, Foss)1 that the Greeks' concept of perfection had led them to emphasize tactile sensibility, which led them to prefer sculpture over painting. By contrast, a concept of infinity in the Renaissance had allegedly led them to emphasize things visual, to prefer painting to sculpture and to develop perspective. The student was puzzled. If it took eyes to look at both sculpture and painting in what sense was Renaissance painting more visual than Greek sculpture? He decided he would study the history of theories of vision and their relation to theories of representation, but for the purposes of an M.A., Professor Stillman Drake (University of Toronto), wisely persuaded him to focus on the history of optics. Dr. A.I. Sabra, at the Warburg Institute, in London challenged him to define the problem more carefully when he began his doctoral studies. What, if anything, set Renaissance theories of vision apart from those of Antiquity? In the quiet of the North Library the student found a provisional answer: a new emphasis on distance, particularly in relation to size. He would study the history of distance even if his contemporaries found the topic way out. Accordingly he read texts in the history of optics, perspective, surveying and even cartography. When Dr. Sabra left for Harvard the orphan was adopted by Sir Ernst Gombrich who plunged him into the psychological dimensions of perspective and led him to consult two other mentors: 3. Scope of the book 4. Further Delays

Professor Robert A. Weale, Director of Visual Science at the Institute for Ophthalmology and B.A.R. Carter, professor of perspective at the Slade and later at the Royal Academy. Meanwhile, almost by chance he met at the Wellcome Institute for the History of Medicine, another mentor, Dr. Kenneth D. Keele, under whose guidance a reconstruction of Leonardo da Vinci's perspectival experiments took place. The young man soon learned that even the principle of the picture plane was not nearly as obvious in practice as it was often assumed to be in theory. He learned the problems of the standard opinions. His mentors revealed that the usual analogies between optics and perspective were too facile, and that most questions with respect to perspective and psychology were still unanswered. And as he continued to read quietly in the North Library he began to uncover a wealth of new material. By August 1977 when he left London it had become clear to him that perspective was an open field. By the autumn of 1978 the publisher, Dr. De Marchi of Centro Di, grew impatient and announced that the bibliography would appear in the spring. Professor Vagnetti also announced that his bibliography, thirty years in the making, would appear in March 1979. When this great work appeared it seemed petty to publish a version which had only a few hundred titles more. When the young man wrote to Professor Vagnetti asking for advice, he was invited to Rome. It was a remarkable encounter only a few weeks before the professor's final stroke. He explained calmly that although he had studied the subject for fifty years he knew nothing about perspective in China, Japan, India, South America, Africa or Australia. Nor, he added, did anyone else. He was old. His colleague was young. If the young man would write letters to the major libraries of these countries the official bibliography could achieve something more than his. Challenged, the young man wrote sixty letters to places including Beijing, Calcutta, Canberra, Moscow and Rio de Janeiro. The next six months saw fifty-five replies with lists ranging from six to six hundred titles, many cursory, with no indication of place of publication, publisher or format. A slow process of verification now began. 2. Problems of method By 1981, three problems of method dominated his attention: 1) how much of a book needs to deal with a subject for it to be included as a title; 2) how does one handle meanings of a term changing over time, or 3) definitions which change from place to place? Each of these problems will be explained briefly. In the first case one obviously included all books dealing strictly with perspective. But what about a four-volume work on drawing with one volume on perspective? Or a single volume on drawing with a major section or perhaps a minor section, a chapter or only a few pages on perspective?

A computer would be needed in order that one could search for books or articles separately. Individual volumes, sections or chapters contained in a larger work could be searched either with respect to the part or the whole and their relation would be indicated in terms of: contains or contained in. In the case of individual volumes, sections, or chapters, the general title which contains them would be listed first, then the title of the part. The second problem was which titles one should include if the meaning of a term changed with time. In 1983 he joined the Gesellschaft fr Klassifikation hoping that they would have an answer. Finding none he developed his own preliminary solution. Again a computer would be needed. First there would be a master list of titles including all possible connotations. Then there would be various levels. One level would identify standard categories of the term: axonometric, cylindrical, isometric, parallel, spherical, etc. Another level would identify titles which earlier bibliographers had included but which he would exclude. Peckham's Common perspective is an example. Being a work on optics, on theories of vision rather than theories of representation he would exclude it, or rather, wish to identify all optical works in the list which are borderline with respect to perspective. A further level would identify titles which earlier bibliographers had excluded but which he would include. Jacques Androuet du Cerceau's Twenty optical views which they call perspective is a case in point. Others have classed this under Roman ruins, architectural views or the so-called Vedute(n) literature. But given the title, and the perspectival nature of the views, which are as convincing as those by Vredeman de Vries whose work is accepted as being perspective, he felt it should be included. Yet another level would identify which titles had been included in each of the earlier bibliographies. Proceeding chronologically one could trace how awareness of the scope of the field grew with time. This new approach to bibliography would thus bring to light the historical dimensions of a subject. The printed bibliography would simply publish all these works including borderline cases. Even so this solution could not resolve deeper problems concerning classification. In the fifteenth century there had been no well-established category for linear perspective and thinkers accordingly classified the idea under optics, architecture, surveying or geometry. As the concept of linear perspective developed so too did its connotations and related fields including chiaroscuro, conic sections, drawing, geometry, instruments, projection, proportion, scenography, shades and shadows, space and time. Each of these terms also changed with time. To make matters worse, and this was the third problem of method, the meaning of perspective and each of these related terms changed from place to place. They changed from country to country as witnessed by book catalogues. In France, Lorenz listed perspective and dessin together in a way that catalogues in Britain, Germany or Italy did not. The meanings and connections between them changed

Anatomy Roman Ruins Architectural Sketch Books

Shades and Shadows

Chiaroscuro

Scenography PERSPECTIVE Proportion

Drawing

Geometry

Projection

Conic Sections

Space and Time

Instruments

Optics

Anatomy Roman Ruins Shades and Shadows Architectural SketchBooks Chiaroscuro

Scenography DRAWING Proportion

Perspective

Geometry

Projection

Conic Sections

Space and Time Optics

Instruments

Fig. 1 Schematic view of perspective and drawing with their satellite concepts also with every major system of classification. They were different in Dewey than in Bliss or Ranganathan. They even changed with every major library which had its own classification scheme. In Gttingen one looked for perspective under mathesis optica and artes plastices. In the Library of Congress one looked under architectural drawing (NA 2710), drawing technique (NC 749-753), descriptive geometry (QA 515) and in the technology section under projection (T369). To handle such problems library catalogues had their "see also" signs. But these too varied from place to place. At Stanford if one looked under perspective one was referred to drawing and under drawing in turn asked to see thirteen other headings including anatomy, artistic; architectural drawing, caricature, and design, decorative. In Seattle under the same heading, drawing, one was asked to see thirty-six other headings including brush, charcoal, crayon, fashion and figure drawing. At the Library of Congress, in the Scorpio system, under drawing one was asked to see 175 other headings including drawing materials, drawing of the hand, drawing pets, sharks, and spaceships. These problems of method implied that there could be no definitive list of books on a single subject. At best, any list which aimed to be exhaustive would become a (temporary) full bibliography on that subject and a partial bibliography on all its related terms. A complete study would require full bibliographies for each of the satellite terms in which the original subject would in turn be treated partially (fig. 1). Thus an exhaustive approach to perspective pointed to a comprehensive bibliography on all the theoretical literature on art: Julius von Schlosser's vision2 in a new dimension. Indeed, considerably more than a bibliography in the old sense was needed. Since definition and meaning played such an essential role in defining boundaries one would wish eventually to integrate existing dictionary definitions and encyclopedia explanations with the titles. Given the new possibilities of video discs which allow one to record 100,000 pages on a single diskette, the complete corpus of primary literature on perspective could be recorded on a handful of discs. The Saur Verlag was approached and steps to accomplish this are underway. The existence of a corpus will make it possible for students and researchers to study systematically the contents of the texts: to identify which images become part of a stock repertoire, to trace when certain themes such as secular architecture, gardens, landscapes or seascapes enter the tradition. In the long term these results could then be compared with parallel trends in painting, sculpture and other arts such that, for the first time, a practical confrontation of theory and practice would be possible. The above-mentioned problems of method had led previous thinkers to begin each time with the premise that one needed to discover or invent a new system of classification which would replace all others and then see where a book fitted in.

But could one not reverse the process: start with the title of a book and then record the different ways in which it had been classed? Thereby the differences between international classification systems, national book catalogues and local library catalogues were no longer an embarrassment or a threat. Indeed these different cubbyholes which changed with time and place offered unexpected insights into the history of mentalities. This was a way of watching how cultural differences led to different structures of knowledge. In the case of perspective one could trace how some mind sets emphasized its mathematical dimensions, others its technical qualities, others its purely artistic functions. Implicit in this approach was a whole new way of perceiving the function of texts. Some texts, for instance, by nature of their being very specialized, would find themselves being slotted into a minimal number of cubbyholes. Other texts, by contrast, would involve various fields and thus appear in many more cubbyholes. Alberti's On Painting, for example, would appear under painting, painting technique, perspective, optics, aesthetics of art, artes plastices and so on. This would provide one dimension of a book's field of influence. Such an approach offered more than a thermometer of popularity. It offered a means of identifying which books had affected both art and science, which books had functioned as bridges between what are now seen as two cultures. Thus it was that a project which had begun in 1977 with the intent of producing an official bibliography had expanded by 1983 into a vision of a new approach to knowledge. When representatives of the Research Libraries Group came to Wolfenbttel in 1983, Professor Paul Raabe, the Director of the Herzog August Bibliothek, kindly persuaded two members, Drs. Marcus McCorison and David Stam to consider the idea informally. The former of these felt the project should be taken up by the Getty Trust and wrote them personally. On 10 April, 1984 the idea was presented formally as the inaugural address at the annual meeting of the Gesellschaft fr Klassifikation. In November 1984 came an invitation to become Canada's first Getty Scholar. Commitments made it necessary to delay the invitation for a year, during which time the plan was further developed. 3. Scope of the book A distinction is made between primary and secondary literature: primary referring to treatises and textbooks giving theoretical instructions how to do perspective; secondary referring to works which deal with historical, metaphorical and philosophical dimensions. In rare cases, a primary treatise, such as Danti's edition of Barozzi (1583) contains important historical material such that it functions also as secondary literature. For the purposes of this bibliography a distinction between treatises and manuals has yet to be made. The published version is not merely a paper copy of the computerized version. It is in four volumes, the first two dealing with primary literature, the third and fourth devoted to secondary literature. Volume one offers an historical survey of the

primary literature. In volume two the bibliography is presented chronologically including: basic texts, manuscripts, articles, and some texts in related fields (as explained above). With respect to locations, the reader is informed whether a title is in the National Union Catalogue (NUC for cases pre-1956) or in the Research Libraries Information Network (RLIN, for post-1956 imprints), and given one European holding where possible. In the case of lost or spurious works a standard bibliographical reference is given instead. Appendices provide lists by author, lists of editors, translators and publishers plus cross-references to works on specific branches of perspective and related terms. Volumes three and four will do the same for the secondary literature. The volumes offer an historical survey of the literature and provide a bibliography in short title catalogue (STC) form, thus serving both as introduction and reference work with respect to the more comprehensive computerized version. As such they represent work in progress, are intended to assess the state of the field, to ask new questions and point to new avenues of research. The survey of primary literature is in two parts. An opening chapter gives definitions of pseudo- and standard perspectival methods, analyzes the effects of different projection planes, outlines the origins of the two chief perspectival methods, explores the interplay of perspective with cartography, astronomy, geometry, optics, architecture and surveying, and traces how early thinkers classed perspective in terms of these established disciplines. It is shown that the development of perspective was intimately connected with the rise of the mathematical sciences in the Renaissance. A second chapter outlines the Italian centres where perspective evolved, identifying some of the key theoreticians and practitioners and suggesting their connections with Northern centres in Burgundy, France, the Netherlands and Germany. The initial interplay between South and North is examined; their different approaches to oral, manuscript and printed traditions contrasted and the gradual dominance of the North by the mid-sixteenth century traced. The rise of Paris in the seventeenth and London in the eighteenth centuries as the leading European centers is documented briefly. Most of the second chapter concerns patterns of publication in major centres since 1600. A thorough treatment of this vast subject would have been a major book in itself. Since our purpose is to provide an orientation with some hint of relationships between three areas, artistic perspective, mathematics and various branches of drawing, the treatment often becomes rather dry, sometimes resembling a list. Persons who find this tedious are advised to use this chapter only as a reference tool and a move directly to the next chapter. A third chapter outlines the chief themes contained in the early treatises and identifies major trends in the contents of texts from the seventeenth century, through to the present. A fourth chapter examines how the intended readership of texts expanded gradually to include amateurs, outlining how this went hand in hand with the emergence of different levels of dissemination and the spread of

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more specialized literature; trying to map out what role was played by perspective in the extraordinary proliferation from a single type of model book of the thirteenth century to individual treatises on machine drawing, architectural drawing, flower drawing, furniture drawing and so on by the nineteenth century and asking what effects this proliferation of literature had on the classification of perspective? Part two of the survey explores the consequences of perspective on science, art, the environment and the imagination. In terms of science it is shown that the development of perspective was integrally connected with the rise of instrumentation and that this focussed attention on proportion, scale and finally quantification in science. It is claimed that the nature of perspectival representation, which permitted a systematic treatment of both views and scales of an object, also played a role, leading away from questions of essence to those of distinct functions which could be isolated and catalogued. This approach was applied to machines, extended to living organisms, as if they were mechanical objects, and eventually used also in cataloguing what had hitherto been abstract powers of nature. In the process, perspective introduced a visual standard for scientific truth which led to observation, experiment, measurement and the other familiar characteristics of early modern science. A second chapter shows that the consequences for art were no less profound. By way of introduction Gombrich's approach in terms of various goals and functions of art is used to explain why many cultures, including the Greeks, were ultimately uninterested in perspective. Connections between perspective, literacy and the narrative function are explored in order to show how this transformed the spatial contents of pictures, leading eventually to an integration of spatio-temporal factors. Meanwhile, another strand of perspective focussed attention on the frames of pictures more than their contents and led to paradoxical plays on form without content which offer new insights into differences between renaissance, mannerist and baroque art. The third chapter explores the transformative effects of perspective on architectural and environmental spaces, while a final chapter explores the function of perspective as a visual metaphor in order to emphasize its links with concepts of freedom and imagination. A central thesis of this book is that the history of perspective involves two distinct stories. One is the development of an objective method for recording or copying the physical world at different levels of abstraction in the form of photographs and maps. This is the story which Samuel Edgerton, Jr.,3 has emphasized and which James Burke has popularized in his programme on perspective in the television series The Day that the World Changed. What needs to be emphasized is that the theoretical texts on perspective did not play a crucial role in these developments. The breakthroughs were made by practitioners, were only subsequently integrated into the theoretical texts, and even then constituted a small part of the contents of the treatises.

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The so-called conquest of realism involved a surprisingly small number of spatial forms which were gradually mastered from the 12th through the 15th centuries. I shall suggest that there is an implicit logic behind perspective which involves not only the window principle, but also doors, cupolas, vaults, columns, porticos, and colonnades, interiors and exteriors. A key aspect of this approach was that persons began to approach the same objects systematically from different viewpoints and in different scales. If perspective had been nothing more than this, its discovery should have threatened the creative imagination and its development should have reduced art to an process of dull reproduction. But the Renaissance was hardly that and that is why there is a second story to be told. The contents of the perspective texts were primarily devoted to something other than realism. The treatises were in fact repositories for a whole range of new images: regular solids, semi-regular solids, lutes, chairs, stairs, complex plays of shadow and reflections, grotesques and caryatids, imaginary gardens, fountains, idealized ruins and phantasy architecture. These new perspectival images led to an emphasis on illusionism and trompe-l'oeil involving a new interplay between real scenes, realistic scenes as if theatrical and theatrical scenes as if realistic; an interplay between reconstructions of past structures and interpretations of existing, possible and ideal ones. I shall argue that it was precisely this blurring of boundaries between the natural and the fictive which inspired that extraordinary proliferation of visual images which is unique to the West and that herein lies the true significance of linear perspective: not simply as a tool for realism, but as a catalyst to our imagination, playfulness, creativity and freedom. 4. More Problems of Method and Further Delays The invitation in November 1984 to become a Getty Scholar provided an ideal opportunity to advance the bibliography. It also arrived at a delicate time: three months after beginning a three year contract as an Assistant Professor at the University of Toronto, Colleagues urged that the invitation should postponed for a year. This was done and in August 1986 there began an inspiring year of living in Santa Monica.

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I. DEFINITIONS AND ORIGINS

1. Introduction 2. Pseudo-Perspectival Methods 3. Parallel-Perspective 4. Standard Methods 5. Picture Plane 6. Angular, Conic and Cylindrical Planes 7. Spherical Planes and Surfaces 8. Perspective and Anamorphosis 9. Geometry and the Distance Point 10. Optics and the Legitimate Construction 11. Practice and Theory 12. Architecture and Ruins 13. Surveying and Topography 14. Problems of Definition 15. Conclusions.

1. Introduction Perspective is a mathematical method of representation, which demonstrates how images change size with distance and change shape when they intersect planes of different shapes in various positions. It is sometimes used in a broader sense to mean all systematic, mathematical methods of representation, including various branches of parallel perspective, where distance plays no role. Hence, we need to distinguish at the outset between perspective, which is quantitative and objective,1 and pseudo-perspectival methods, which are qualitative and subjective. By way of introduction we shall also define the standard branches of perspective, identify some properties of rectilinear picture planes and examine the effects of angular, conic, cylindrical and spherical planes in order to explain the reciprocal relation between perspective and anamorphosis (trick-perspective). We shall then reconsider the two chief Renaissance methods of perspective and the question of their origins. The role of astronomy, geography, geometry, optics, surveying, topography, architecture and archaeology will be mentioned, as will the relation between early practice and theory. Finally some questions of definition will be raised concerning fifteenth and sixteenth century treatises on perspective. 2. Pseudo-Perspectival Methods Vitruvius, in the introduction to book seven of his De architectura reports that Agatharcus, a contemporary of Aeschylus painted a scene and left a commentary about it: This led Democritus and Anaxagoras to write on the same subject, showing how, given a centre in a definite place, the lines should naturally correspond with due regard to the point of sight and the divergence of the visual rays, so that by this deception a faithful representation of the appearance of buildings might be given in painted scenery, and so that, though all is drawn on a vertical flat facade, some parts may seem to be withdrawing into the background, and others to be standing out in front.2 Those who have interpreted these lines as proof of perspective in Antiquity3 have ignored the wider context of the discussion. In the same book (VII, Chapter V),

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Vitruvius laments the decadence of contemporary fresco paintings noting that, whereas the ancients required realistic pictures of real things, subsequent artists represented "the forms of buildings and of columns and overhanging pediments" as well as the facades of scenes in tragic, comic or satyric style. Vitruvius adds that: Those subjects which were copied from actual realities were scorned in those days of bad taste. We now have fresco paintings of monstrosities rather than of truthful representations of definite things.. Such things do not exist and cannot exist and never have existed.4 If linear perspective had been involved Vitruvius, as a pragmatic architect, should have emphasized the practical applications of these methods for architecture and their significance in recording the natural world quantitatively. His deliberate opposition between truthful representation of the natural world and the unreal objects produced in these scene paintings and frescoes confirms that something else was involved. The evidence of the extant frescoes at Pompeii (pl. 1.4), Herculaneum5 and Oplontis6 supports this conclusion. Most of the buildings represent imaginary inventions, which are architectural impossibilities. In most cases the depth represented involves only a few feet. The scenes serve to close spaces7 rather than to open them. Nor do all the lines converge to a single point. In the rare cases where most lines observe this rule, the rest still converge to other points along an axis. This suggests that Vitruvius' description of scene painting probably involved a pseudo-perspectival method variously known as axial, vanishing vertical axis or fish-bone perspective (fig. 2b, pl. 1.3-4). In which case, the centre which Vitruvius mentions, refers to an axis running through the central point of a Greek theatre, an axis being involved in order to accommodate the different heights of the viewers. Other evidence has also been cited to claim that the Greeks were acquainted with the laws of perspective. Greek optical theory asserted that visual angles govern apparent size. This theory, when applied to their practice of representation, invited two solutions: to represent objects higher up as smaller (pl. 1.1) or to make a higher object larger in order that it appear the same size (pl. 1.2.). These are again pseudo-perspectival methods variously termed negative perspective, optical adjustments or visual angles methods (fig. 2a). According to Pennethorne, the method of making objects higher in order that they appear the same size was used in the temple of Thebes in the 13th century B.C. and with the letters on the temple of Priene in the 5th century B.C.8 In Antiquity such a method probably inspired Plato's complaints against sculpture in the Sophist.9 The method remained popular throughout the Renaissance. Drer described it in his Instruction of Measurement (1525). Michelangelo used it in the figures above the altar of the Sistine Chapel,10 and Serlio described it in his first book on architecture, as did Barbaro in his Practice of perspective (1568).

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Most Renaissance thinkers were so convinced that the visual angles principles taken from Euclid's Optics provided a theoretical basis for linear perspective that they overlooked a basic contradiction between their practice of perspective and theory of vision, namely, that perspective deals with planes and not with angles. Imagine (fig. 2a)

a viewer at A looking at three equally sized objects BC, DE and FG. As long as the interposed plane HI is parallel with BG, the projected size of B1C1, D1E1, and F1G1 will be equal even though the angles subtended at the eye become smaller. In other words, although Euclid's theory of vision predicts that GF appears smaller than BC, Euclid's geometry predicts that G1F1 is projected the same size as B1C1. Desargues (1636) recognized this contradiction between planes and angles and hence when Dubreuil continued to espouse optical adjustments methods in his Practice of perspective (1642), Desargues tried to clarify the issue. His student, Abraham Bosse, the first professor of perspective at the Acadmie Royale, went further and set out "to prove that one must not draw or paint as the eye sees." Bosse's colleagues did not understand his plea to distinguish the objective laws of perspectival planes based on geometry from subjective theories of vision based on psychological optics and they conveniently hid their incomprehension by expelling him from the Academy.11 Although more than three centuries have passed Bosse's distinction continues to be overlooked. Even highly educated individuals when, under extreme conditions, they discover discrepancies between their subjective visual impressions and the objective laws of perspectival representation, assume that perspective must be a simple convention. Some also continue to associate optical adjustments methods based on visual angles with perspective.

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Underlying optical adjustments is a principle of compensation: one adds to the object's physical size, an amount that it would otherwise have lost in apparent size. But this addition usually occurs only in a vertical plane. In a third pseudoperspectival method, inverted perspective, (fig.2c), one applies this principle to both the vertical and horizontal planes simultaneously such that parts further away are both higher and wider (pl. I.5-6). However, the extent of this adjustment is not fixed and it is used so subjectively in many pre-literate cultures that it is difficult to think of it as a systematic method as Shegin12 claimed. While creating a sense of depth this method also remained subjective. In all three of these pseudoperspectival methods there is no way of studying the picture in order to determine, post facto, the original distance of the viewer. Others have been exploring spherical or cylindrical methods of perspective which they hope will objectively record their subjective impressions (cf. below, pp. ). 3. Parallel perspective Parallel perspective is another method in which the original distance of the viewer cannot be determined because the viewer's position is taken to be at infinity. In parallel perspective further distinctions are now made between orthographic or axonometric projection where the faces of an object are oblique or tilted relative to the picture plane and multiview projection when the face of an object remains parallel to the picture plane. These categories are in turn subdivided. Multiview projection may involve first angle (also termed first quadrant) projection, commonly used in Britain (fig. 3.3 cf. fig. 3.2), where one looks out at the projection: or third angle projection, commonly used in the United States (fig. 3.5), where one looks in at the projection as if it were in a transparent glass box (fig. 3.7). Axonometric projection (fig. 4.1) is subdivided into isometric, dimetric and trimetric projection. In isometric projection all three faces are equally oblique (fig. 4.2). In dimetric, two faces are equally oblique (fig. 4.3). In trimetric, only one face is equally oblique (fig. 4.4). In addition, there are two other oblique parallel projections known as cavalier projection, where the object is at 45o relative to the picture plane (fig. 4.5) and cabinet projection, where the object is at arc tan 2 relative to the picture plane (fig. 4.6), and some include a third, military projection (fig. 4.7). Parallel perspective is often a misleading term because historically these technical distinctions did not apply. In the seventeenth century, for example, cavalier and military perspective were often interchangeable, and usually referred to rough and ready methods involving a bird's eye view of a fortification (cf. below, p. ) In addition, perspective is used to describe practical conventions in Oriental art which appear to be without a theoretical basis. 4. Standard Methods Linear perspective, according to the Oxford English Dictionary is

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an application of projective geometry in which the drawing is such as would be made upon a transparent vertical plane (plane of delineation) interposed in the proper position between the eye and the object, by drawing straight lines from the position of the eye (point of sight) to the several points of the object, their intersections with the plane of delineation forming the corresponding points of the drawing. Linear perspective is generally accepted as being synonymous with central, plane, Brunelleschian or Albertian perspective. A distinction has arisen between one-, two- and three-point perspective. In one-point or central perspective only one dimension (depth) is not parallel to the picture plane. In two-point perspective two dimensions (depth and breadth) are not parallel to the interposed plane. In threepoint perspective all three dimensions (depth, breadth, and height) are not parallel with the picture plane (fig. 5). Fifteenth century authors dealt almost exclusively with one-point perspective and hence this method is sometimes treated as synonymous with Renaissance perspective. One-point perspective is also occasionally treated as synonymous with linear perspective but this is misleading. Linear perspective includes one, two and three point methods. Two-point perspective was made popular in the early sixteenth century by Jean Plerin, le Viateur (1505) and Joachim Fortius Ringelbergius (1531). This method is synonymous with angular perspective. In England two-point and oblique perspective are also synonymous. In America, by constrast, oblique perspective is used as a synonym for three-point perspective. In both countries three point and inclined picture plane perspective are synonymous. Because parallel perspective as well as one-and two-point perspective all have their frontal plane or height dimension parallel to the picture plane, these three methods are classed by some under a more general heading of orthogonal perspective. Nonetheless, mathematicians continue to distinguish between orthogonal, parallel and central projections. 5. Picture-Plane One of the distinguishing characteristics of linear perspective is the principle of the window or picture plane (pl. 58. 1-2. cf. pl. 30, 54) whereby a transparent plane is used in arriving at a perspectival foreshortening.13 Alberti, in the Latin version of his On Painting, (1435) claims to have invented this principle. In the Italian version, dedicated to Brunelleschi, this claim is carefully avoided, which makes it likely that Brunelleschi was actually the first to use it when he made his famous rendering of the Baptistry of San Giovanni between 1420 and 1425. The inverse size/distance law of linear perspective applies in the case of objects positioned parallel to this picture-plane. Hence, when an object is twice as far away from the picture plane as the distance from the eye to the picture plane, its

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size on the picture plane is one half its original size. When an object is three times as far away, its size on the picture plane is one third. When it is four times as far away it is one fourth and so on. In this process there are three variables: eye, picture plane and object. Normally two variables are kept constant while a third is moved systematically. If the object is moved away from the eye the object's projected size becomes proportionately smaller. If the picture plane is moved away from the eye, the object's projected size becomes proportionately larger. If the eye is moved away from the object and picture plane, the object's projected size becomes proportionately larger, while other objects at right angles to the picture plane become increasingly foreshortened (fig. 6). In retrospect, all this is eminently simple. But it did not seem so to fifteenth century thinkers. Neither Alberti, Filarete nor Francesco di Giorgio Martini was aware of the inverse size/distance law. Piero della Francesca considered the idea but did not distinguish clearly between objects parallel with and objects at right angles to the picture plane and therefore denied the existence of any simple inverse proportion. Leonardo first discovered this principle around 1492. It took another 144 years before Desargues formulated this principle in mathematical terms and another 20 years beyond that for Bosse to popularize them. 6. Angular, Conic and Cylindrical Planes In the meantime thinkers explored the characteristics of various other types of planes. The simplest of these was a concave V-shaped projection plane consisting of two converging rectilinear planes (fig. 7.1). Marolois (1614), described this possibility which was actually used in a peep show of a church interior now in the National Gallery at Copenhagen. Bosse also considered the converse: a convex Vshaped projection plane again consisting of two rectilinear planes (fig. 7.2). Corresponding cylindrical shapes both convex and concave were also explored by the author of the Codex Huygens, Marolois, Nicron and Schott (fig. 7.5-6, cf. pl. 67). Other variants, probably based on concepts of visual pyramids, involved rectilinear and curvilinear pyramids or cones. Dubreuil (1649) considered frontal projections onto both their exteriors and interiors (fig. 7.3-4, 7-8). 7. Spherical Planes and Surfaces The practical projection of rectilinear surfaces onto spherical planes evolved in Flemish painting practice of the fifteenth century when it became fashionable to depict scenes reflected in convex spherical mirrors (fig. 8.1, cf. pl. 52.2). The theory of spherical perspective (fig. 8.2), which has received much attention since the 1870's due to the analogies with the retina of the eye, was not considered in the fifteenth or sixteenth centuries. On the other hand, the reverse case of projecting spherical surfaces onto rectilinear planes received much attention. Ptolemy had considered this problem in the second century in his Planisphere when he treated the South Pole as the position of a viewer and the equator as a

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projection plane onto which he projected both the circles of Cancer and Capricorn. This was essentially a first demonstration of the principles of linear perspective, but under very limited conditions, where only scale was important and measured distance played no role. Projections of the astrolabe involved a direct extension of this principle: the lines of longitude and latitude corresponding to a particular place on earth now also being projected onto the equatorial plane (fig. 8.3-6). In the 1390's, Blasius of Parma, a professor of optics at Padua, wrote commentaries on Euclid, Alhazen, Witelo and Peckham, confronting optical theory with practical surveying methods. He also used Ptolemy's Planisphere as a textbook. By way of demonstration he employed an armillary sphere, a threedimensional model of the earth reduced to circles of the poles and the circles of Cancer, Equator and Capricorn along with the ecliptic (cf. pl. 75.3 and 49.3). Using candles he projected these circles onto the walls of a darkened room.14 Biagio had two chief students. One was Paolo Nicoletto d'Udine (Paul of Venice), who had studied at Oxford and thus brought an awareness of Bradwardine, the Oxford calculators and the particular associations between theology, geometry and optics developed by Grosseteste, Bacon and Peckham. The other was Prosdocimo da Beldomandi, who had strong interests in mathematics and astronomy who in turn taught Fontana, Toscanelli, Cusa and possibly the young Alberti.15 Hence there were close links between those concerned with projection methods in astronomy and the pioneers of linear perspective. Through study of the planisphere and astrolabe, thinkers became aware that perspective works in two directions: 1) to record images backwards onto the picture plane as with the tropic of cancer or 2) to project images forwards onto the picture plane as with the tropic of capricorn (fig. 8.3-4). The second of these effects could be achieved using methods analogous to those of Blasius of Parma: by substituting a candle for the viewpoint at the South pole and projecting the circle of capricorn onto the equatorial plane in its enlarged form. Systematic study of these possibilities came only gradually. It was not until the sixteenth century that the rectilinear projection plane was shifted to a position at right angles to the equator, which led to further developments in cartography. The position of the (sometimes imaginary) candle varied. One alternative was to position it at the centre of the earth, which resulted in a central or gnomonic projection (fig. 9.1). Or it was positioned on the circumference of the equator at a point opposite the hemisphere being projected, which resulted in a projection known as horizontal, stereographical or Gemma Frisius (the teacher of Mercator) (fig. 9.2). Subsequent thinkers chose positions slightly further removed: Clarke at 1.35 radii from the centre of the sphere (fig. 9.3); James at 1.367 radii (fig. 9.4) and La Hire at 1.71 radii (fig. 9.5). Yet another alternative was to place the point of projection at infinity which resulted in an orthographic, parallel or (Juan de) Rojas projection (fig. 9.6), named after a Spanish contemporary of Gemma Frisius and Mercator.

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Not all projections were rectilinear. Mercator projected the sphere onto a cylinder to arrive at his now famous grid system (fig. 11.1-2). Already in the second century Ptolemy had explored another possibility: projecting the sphere onto the inside of a cone (fig. 10.1-2) as well as a modified version thereof (fig. 10.3-4). Recent discussions of his having had a third method, which was perspectival are unfounded. It is true, however, that in his seventh book he described an eye looking at the earth. The diagram associated with this, effectively a protoperspectival drawing of an armillary sphere (pl. 27.3), was clearly a source for Drer's perspectival drawings (pl. 27.4). In the case of another of Drer's globes (pl. 27.1) it has been suggested that he actually used a model of the earth tilted at 23 degrees (as in the angle of the ecliptic) and drew it with the help of a perspectival window.16 A full analysis of cartographical methods is beyond the scope of this essay, but is an area deserving much more attention (fig.12). Notwithstanding interplay between astronomy, geography and perspective, it was not until 1558 that Commandino published a formal study of correspondences between planisphere projection and perspective, a problem which also interested his student, Guidobaldo del Monte. Egnazio Danti in his commentary on Barozzi's The two rules (1583) noted correspondences between perspective and geographical projection--a topic obviously of interest to one who was cosmographer to the Duke of Tuscany and author of the magnificent maps in the room of the globes in the Palazzo Vecchio (pl. 24.5). The same Danti also studied sundials. This combination of interests in perspective and dialling was subsequently pursued by Desargues (1636) and Maignan (1648) (cf. pl. 48-49). 8. Perspective and Anamorphosis We have already mentioned that perspective works in two directions: to record an image backwards onto a picture plane and to project it forwards. In either case, as long as the object and picture are in the same plane (fig. 6) the image remains undistorted (or isometric), and varies in size only. When the object and picture plane are parallel to one another, the perspectival image changes shape. In the case of images recorded onto the picture plane these changes are usually unwanted and are referred to as perspectival foreshortenings (fig. 13.1) or, in extreme cases, as perspectival distortions (fig. 13.2). By contrast, anamorphosis involves deliberate changes in shape produced in the case of images projected forward onto a plane. The principle of anamorphosis is thus identical with that of projecting the tropic of capricorn in the astrolabe17 (fig. 8.3), the sphere in various cartographic projections (fig. 9) and of shadow projections in sundials. That those interested in anamorphosis were often also concerned with projections in astronomy, cartography and sundials is therefore no coincidence and of considerable importance because it reminds us that the development of perspective and its variants was considerably more than an artistic phenomenon: it was intimately connected with the rise of the mathematical sciences in the Renaissance.

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Although there exist a near infinite number of possible projections from a plane of one shape onto a plane of another shape, sixteenth and seventeenth century practitioners concentrated on a surprisingly small number of alternatives: a flat projection plane at right angles to the original (fig. 13.3-4), a flat projection plane at right angles to an original cylindrical (fig. 13.5-6), conic (fig. 13.7) or pyramidal plane (fig. 13.8). In the cases of cylinders, cones and pyramids a mirror was frequently positioned in the plane of the original object such that the anamorphic forms could be transformed back to their original shape. Anamorphosis thus demonstrated the principles of transformation and reversibility basic to linear perspective. The origins of anamorphosis can be traced with some precision. At an empirical level problems of anamorphic distortion had arisen in trying to portray Christ, the Pantokrator, in the rounded dome above the altar in mediaeval byzantine churches. At the level of theory, Piero della Francesca, was the first to consider anamorphosis in his On perspective of painting (c. 1480). Leonardo da Vinci explored various aspects of anamorphosis.18 Jean-Franois Nicron was the first to devote an entire treatise to the subject (1638). The origins of linear perspective are not so readily summarized. Guidobaldo del Monte (1600), reminds us that there were twenty three competing methods at the turn of the seventeenth century. Other sources including Benedetti (1580), Egnazio Danti in his edition of Barozzi, il Vignola (1583) and Piero della Francesca (c. 1480) emphasize two principal methods: one based on geometry, the other on practical demonstrations. 9. Geometry and the Distance Point Construction In his Elements, Euclid had explored basic properties of ratios and proportions of lines and surfaces as well as their equivalents and transformations. In the 13th century interest in these problems was revived by Leonard of Pisa (Fibonacci), who introduced them into the curriculum of the abaco school. In the 1430's Leon Battista Alberti applied these geometrical principles to perspective in his Elements of painting (pl. 28.1). Piero della Francesca (c.1480) developed this approach, devoting the first two books of On perspective of painting to these geometrical demonstrations based on proportional diminution (pl. 28.2). Later examples by Serlio (pl. 28.3), Barbaro (pl. 28.4), Plerin (pl. 29.1-2), Androuet du Cerceau (pl. 29.3) or even Galli-Bibiena (pl. 29.4) are effectively logical extensions of this approach. In one of his propositions, Piero della Francesca mentioned the possibility of confirming these principles with physical demonstrations. In the course of the 1480's and 1490's, individuals such as Francesco di Giorgio Martini sought to carry this out by reconstructing the geometrical principles in terms of actual surveying situations. In all likelihood it was Francesco who first explored the principle of the distance-point.

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In determining the distance point one begins by extending the converging sides of a foreshortened square (fig. 14) until they meet at a central vanishing point. Through this point a horizon line, parallel to the base is drawn. Through the foreshortened square one also draws a diagonal which is extended until it meets the horizon line at the distance point, so-called because the space from this point to the central vanishing point marks in scale the original viewer's distance from the picture plane which produced the foreshortening in question.

Fig. 14 Frontal and three dimensional diagram to illustrate the principle of the distance point. ABC1D1 is the foreshortened version of ABCD as seen by a viewer at F1. The viewer's distance from the picture plane F1E is equal to distance FE. The distance point F can be found by simply extending diagonal BD1 until it meets the horizon line.

This ability to work backwards from the foreshortened square to reconstruct the original viewpoint which caused it has been termed the reversibility principle of perspective. This only functions in the case of regular squares (or cubes) positioned at right angles to the picture plane. That perspectival drawings tend to feature regular geometrical and idealized architectural shapes is therefore no coincidence. Jean Plerin gave the first published account of the distance point in 1505. In Italy the method did not appear in print until Danti's edition of Barozzi's Two rules (1583). As a result its Italian origins in geometrical principles were gradually overlooked and modern scholars generally assumed that it stemmed from practical workshop traditions in the North.19

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10. Optics and the legitimate construction The development of the second major method was closely tied with the history of optics. Euclid's Optics had dealt primarily with what would today be termed psychological optics, study of subjective aspects of vision. But the treatise also contained four propositions devoted to surveying20 problems and thereby the accurate perception and measurement of distance became part of the optical heritage. By the ninth century thinkers in the Arabic tradition such as Al-Farabi could define optics in terms of measuring the heights of mountains and even distances of stars.21 Through this tradition there evolved an overlap between the ideals of optics and those of surveying. In the optical treatises of Alhazen (early 11th c.) and Witelo (c. 1280) the concept of measured distance acquired new significance.22 By the fourteenth century treatises on optics frequently appeared together with those on surveying or practical geometry. One important consequence of this interplay between optics and surveying was that theoretical propositions in optics were increasingly tested in terms of practical demonstrations. Euclid, for instance, had claimed that visual angles do not vary inversely with distance. Blasius of Parma, in the 1390's, tested this experimentally, just as he used candles to test experimentally the projections of armillary spheres. Brunelleschi's picture-plane or window (c. 1415-1425) was probably a direct outgrowth of this tradition: a practical demonstration of the visual pyramids and other principles of optical theory. Alberti, in his On painting, described the principles of this method verbally, thus providing a first theoretical formulation of what he termed the best method (modo optimo), now remembered as the legitimate construction (costruzione legittima. Even so, he saw the window, or veil (velo), as the practical equivalent of this method and insisted on its fundamental importance: Nor will I hear what some may say, that the painter should not use these things...I do not believe that infinite pains should be demanded of the painter, but paintings which appear in good relief and a good likeness of the subject should be expected. This I do not believe can ever be done without the use of the veil.23 Alberti assumed that optics provided the theory for both his verbal demonstration of the legitimate construction, and for its practical equivalent, which used the window. In the next generation, Francesco di Giorgio Martini and Luca Pacioli also assumed this, although they classed perspective under practical geometry and surveying. Even in the latter sixteenth century perspective continued to be seen in terms of practice as is witnessed by titles such as Barbaro's Practice of perspective, Barozzi's Two rules of practical perspective and Sirigatti's Practice of perspective. Because authors continued to assume that Euclid's Optics and Elements provided such theory as was necessary for their subject, there was no theory of perspective as such at the time.

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11. Practice and Theory Indeed when we actually look at the fifteenth and sixteenth century treatises we find that they are very different from what we might have imagined. The early treatises are not repertories of elaborate spatial structures, which serve as harbingers for a revolution in the treatment of space. The earliest extant manuscripts of Alberti's On painting have no diagrams at all. Later versions have only a few diagrams. By contrast, Piero della Francesca's On perspective of painting may contain eighty diagrams, but these are only of isolated objects and the most impressive of these shapes had already been mastered at least a century earlier in painting practice. Piero's diagram of an octagonal building (pl. 2.3) is a case in point. Duccio had convincingly rendered a frontal view of this form in his Maest (pl. 2.1-2). Thereafter it had become a frequent theme in fourteenth century art and had served as the subject of Brunelleschi's first perspectival picture. The interior of an apse in Piero's treatise (pl. 3.2) provides another example. This shape had been mastered by Giotto in the Scrovegni chapel in Padua at the beginning of the fourteenth century (pl. 3.1). The same holds true for diagrams in other treatises. The barrel vaults in Barozzi's The Two Rules (pl. 3.4) also have a precedent in Giotto, this time in his Sanctioning of the Rule in the Upper Church at Assisi (pl. 3.3). Even a much later example such as the oblique building in Vaulezard's Abridgement (1631, pl. 3.6) had been used in a simpler form in Plerin's treatise and earlier still in painting practice in Christ and the Apostles in the Temple attributed to Andrea di Giusto (pl. 3.5). Examination of Duccio's Maest (pl. 2.1) offers some insight into the process that took place. At first sight the altar consists of a bewildering complexity of spatial scenes depicting the life of Christ. But on closer scrutiny it becomes apparent that the nearly axonometric roof and the three columns shown in panel 7 recur in panels 8, 14, 15, 23 and 28. Similarly a variant of this roof which appears in panel 13 recurs in panels 22 and 27. A further variant in panel 19, showing a type of axial perspective in the beams of the ceiling, recurs in panels 24 and 25. These shapes recur in Giotto, and indeed throughout the fourteenth century. The Florentine hat or mazzocchio offers another case in point. Uccello painted it in his frescoes long before it appeared in the treatises of Picro della Francesca, Leonardo da Vinci, Daniele Barbaro and their successors. Even the perspectival lines underlying Uccello's sinopia appeared in practice long before they appeared in theoretical literature. Hence the spatial revolution, such as it was, lay in the gradual mastery of a small number of these basic forms in practice. The early treatises on perspective subsequently summarized these in mathematical terms. Thus, rather than offering new visions of that which practice might explore, the early treatises codified what practice had already achieved.

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The development of perspective is too often associated specifically with painting. It is important to emphasize that it affected all media of expression as is witnessed by Donatello's use of proto-perspectival methods in his sculpture of St. George (Florence, Or San Michele, 1417) or Ghiberti in his bronze doors of the Baptistery-particularly the Gates of Paradise (1435). In many cases perspective merely served to represent spatially models available from classical Roman architecture. The cassetted vault was, for instance, well known from the Roman temple of Maxentius and other buildings. It became one of the great themes of humanistic architecture. Masaccio used it in his Trinity (pl. 5.1), generally accepted as the first extant work in perspective. Thereafter it occurs in literally hundreds of examples: in paintings by the most famous artists, Mantegna and Raphael (pl. 11.5); less famous such as, Foppa and even obscure artists such as the Ferrarese Master (pl. 6.3). It is used in drawings by Bellini (pl. 6.1-2) and a preparatory drawing by Donatello (pl. 6.4). It is used equally in other media: in a marble alter by Desiderio da Settignano (pl. 5.2); in a stone facade by Pietro Lombardo in Venice (pl. 5.3), by Alberti in the facade of Sant'Andrea in Mantua and by Bramante in his famous illusionistic choir (pl. 5.4). Borromini's use of a variant nearly two centuries later in the Palazzo Spada (pl. 5.5) attests to the enduring fascination of this illusionistic form.24 A cumulative process marks a next stage in development. Hence, Piero della Francesca, having mastered the dome shape (pl. 3.2) and the cassetted vault, produced an inverted dome in the form of a scallop and combined this with a cassetted vault in his famous Brera Altar (pl. 7.1). Artists at all levels were involved in this process. In his doors for the Baptistery at Florence, Ghiberti had represented a cross vault (pl. 4.4). This form also appeared in the treatises of Piero della Francesca (pl. 7.3) and Sebastiano Serlio (pl. 7.4). A derivative painter such as Cima da Conegliano in turn combined a cross vault with a cassetted barrel vault in his St. Peter Martyr and Saints (pl. 7.2). Perspective, as thinkers such as Vredeman de Vries noted, involves looking into or looking through objects.25 The number of objects which produce such an effect is surprisingly limited. The vault is one. Another is the door or portal, which is closely related to the vault. Fouquet used this perspectivally, for instance, in his Hours of Etienne Chevalier (pl. 4.5). The case of the portal is particularly interesting because, long before painters represented it perspectivally, architects had begun to construct it spatially, as if receding towards a vanishing point, as witnessed clearly in the Romanesque example of St. Pierre, in Aulnaye La Santage in the South of France (pl. 4.1) and later, more dramatically in Gothic examples such as Notre Dame (pl. 4.3). It is noteworthy that trompe l'oeil versions of such portals also date back to the twelfth century (pl. 4.2).

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By the fifteenth century the portal had become a motif in Northern protoperspectival painting such as Vranck van der Stock's Altar of the Redemption (pl. 8.1), Rogier van der Weyden's Christ Appearing to his Mother (pl. 8.3) and his Beheading of St. John (pl. 8.4). Another of Van der Weyden's paintings, The Eucharist with Christ on the Cross (pl. 8.2) extended this effect of the portal until it became flush with the nave of the church. Technically speaking the perspective in these northern examples was not correct. In terms of details they were also very different from Italian drawings of roughly the same period found in Jacopo Bellini's Sketchbooks (9.3-4). There were sharp contrasts between the Gothic architecture of the North and the humanistic architecture of Italy with its emphasis on classical examples, on measure and proportion. But in terms of general approach to space Bellini also relied on portals to create perspectival effects in his drawings, a principle which Domenico Veneziano (pl. 9.5) subsequently adopted for his own purposes, as did Veronese (pl. 9.6) a century later. Bellini's portals, it will be noted, also involved the, by now familiar, vault form, and moreover, had their parallels in actual buildings of the time such as Brunelleschi's Pazzi Chapel (pl. 9.2), which in turn bears comparison with an idealized ruin from Androuet du Cerceau (pl. 9.1) over a century later. In this context, it is very tempting to see a logical progression from the spatial effects in the entrance to the Romanesque church of St. Pierre (pl. 4.1), and the Gothic cathedral of Notre Dame (pl. 4.3) to Brunelleschi's facade to the Pazzi Chapel (pl. 9.2) and Benedetto da Maiano's Santa Maria delle Grazie in Arezzo (pl. 15.1). We have already noted Roger van der Weyden's extension of the portal principle to produce a full view into a church, as if the entrance wall had been removed or rather made into the equivalent of a window such that the entire nave functioned as a cross section (pl. 8.1). Fouquet adapted it slightly in his Hours of Etienne Chevalier (pl. 10.1). The Master of the Burgundy Hours used it more dramatically in a miniature now in Vienna (pl. 10.2). In 1505 Jean Plerin used it in his On artificial perspective. Once again theory followed practice. Meanwhile, the theme continued to develop in Italy as witnessed by Domenico Ghirlandaio's Feast of Herod (pl. 11.4) and Raphael's School of Athens (pl. 11.5) and, as the sixteenth century progressed, connections with Roman ruins also became more apparent through engravings such as those of Androuet Du Cerceau (pl. 11.1) and Cock (pl. 11.3). The logic of looking into involved in perspective was such that it transcended regional differences. For all their stylistic variations Rogier van der Weyden, Fouquet and Bellini in the early fifteenth century, and Raphael, Du Cerceau and Cock in the sixteenth century, had a common approach to space such that one can speak in a new way of a European phenomenon. Indeed, it is probably no coincidence that the words Europe, Renaissance and perspective have become so unconsciously linked in our minds. Perspective gave to Europe a unifying logic of space, which pointed simultaneously to a diversity of

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expressions, the opposite, as it were, of the later American ideal of making the many into one (e pluribus unum). That which occured with representations of sacred interiors happened equally to visualizations of secular interiors. Here again it became customary to treat one wall as if it were a transparent window permitting a clear view of the other walls. One variant, favoured in the North, was to produce oblique views, emphasizing the right walls or, as if in mirror versions of these, emphasizing the left walls (pl. 12, 7.1-4). More frequently there was a frontal view of an interior, the real wall of which in turn contained a window or a larger opening such that one could see into the distance. In Jan van Eyck's Madonna and the Chancellor Rolin the columns served to frame a landscape in essentially the same way that they did in Piero del Pollaiuolo's Annunciation (pl. 13). Again the details might differ, but North and South share a common approach. Such examples are particularly interesting because they show that the practice of representing windows to frame spatial views had become customary (pl. 11.2-4) at just about the time that the principle of the perspectival window, as an analytical device, was establishing itself in practice in the 1430's: this time a case of practice and theory developing almost simultaneously. Meanwhile, the method of treating the front wall as a window (pl. 8.2) gained in importance in the sixteenth century. Michael Pacher used it in his St. Wolfgang Altar (pl. 16.1), as did Albrecht Altdorfer in his rendering of the Jewish Synagogue at Regensburg (pl. 16.2) and other church interiors. The method was used in the Luther Bible (pl. 16.3), and Rodler also employed it several times in his treatise on perspective (pl. 16.4). The same method was frequently used in combination with another basic perspectival form, the colonnade as in both Cesariano's Vitruvian commentary (pl. 80.2, 82.1 cf. pl. 80-83), and his marquetry work in St. Alessandro. Later sixteenth century examples include a drawing by Scamozzi (pl. 14.1) or, to take northern analogues, the engravings of Vredeman de Vries (pl. 14.2-3) and Cornelius Loos (pl. 14.4). Already in the fifteenth century, Brunelleschi, one of the discoverers of perspective, was almost certainly aware of the perspectival effects of actual colonnades when he designed his Ospedale degl'Innocenti, as must have been the case with the later designers of the new market in Florence and Benedetto de Maiano when he designed Santa Maria delle Grazie in Arezzo (p.l5.2). By the end of the century, artists such as Bramante realized that the representation of colonnades was particularly suited for perspectival purposes because these permitted one not only to look into but even look straight through a space. Later sixteenth century examples included Vignola's plan for an open loggia (pl. 15.3) as well as northern parallels, such as those in the treatises of Vredeman de Vries (pl. 15.4-5).

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These developments did not, however, undermine the method of treating the front wall as a window, which continued its popularity in the seventeenth century. Hondius used it, for instance, in his engraving of a modern temple (pl. 17.1), as did Steenwyck in his version of a Gothic Church (pl. 17.2) and Pieter Neefs in his painting of Onze Lieve Vrouwe Kathedraal in Antwerp (pl. 20.1), which invites comparison with actual photographs of the same building (pl. 20.2). In the next generation, with Saenredam, this tendency towards what appears in retrospect like photographic realism increased. But the actual process of arriving at this result became considerably more complex.26 It became customary to make preliminary drawings which were then adjusted in arriving at the finished painting (pl. 20.3-6). The same process occured in the representation of exteriors (pl. 21.13). Physical models and printed engravings became increasingly important as exemplars. Ironically as paintings truly came to look like windows to the natural world, the number of versions or filters separating preliminary sketch and finished work increased. Something else also happened. There was no longer one obvious point of view from which one represented a building or place. It is noteworthy that Saenredam's preparatory drawing (pl. 21.1) shows us two views of the same building complex. This tendency towards multiple viewpoints is even more obvious in treatments of the central square at Haarlem where we have various views looking towards the Grote Kerk (pl. 22.1-2, pl. 23.1) and others looking in the opposite direction (e.g. pl. 23.2). The spatial qualities of these paintings make them appear as epitomes of perspective. In retrospect they seem and may even be a logical consequence of the story in which perspective is linked with the conquest of realism. What needs to be emphasized, however, is that the early treatises on perspective were not crucial to this story. The basic texts by Alberti, Drer, Barbaro, Barozzi (il Vignola), or Accolti were sometimes too primitive, and invariably too abstract to serve as models in this process. Even texts such as those by Plerin (pl. 10.3-4), Androuet du Cerceau (pl. 11.3) or Vredeman de Vries (pl. 14.2-3, 15.4-5), which were effectively albums of handy examples, codified images from painting practice. To understand better this story of the conquest of realism we need a catalogue of basic spatial forms in order to follow their gradual mastery within the practical tradition and their subsequent integration into the theoretical treatises. Theatre also played a role and will be discussed later (see below 2.4). Two other aspects of this story deserve mention: architectural ruins and topographical surveying. Each of these will be considered briefly in turn. 12. Architectural Ruins and Plans It is well known that the key figures in the early development (both in terms of practice and treatises) were architects, notably Brunelleschi, Alberti, Filarete, Francesco di Giorgio Martini, Leonardo da Vinci, Bramante, Raphael, Baldassare

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Peruzzi, Serlio and Palladio. Brunelleschi also spent considerable time studying architectural ruins in Rome. Indeed his biographer, Manetti, credits him with new methods in recording these (see below p. ). Hence, the same individual who was at the frontiers of representing modern buildings, was also at the forefront of measuring ancient ones, a combination of interests which we now think of as typical to humanism. This combination of interests gains in significance when we realize that it applies equally to Alberti. The author of On painting and Elements of painting was also the author of Description of the city of Rome and On architecture. It applied also to Francesco di Giorgio Martini whose treatises dealt with practical perspective and the measurement of ruins and modern buildings alike. Rome was the centre of these activities, due in part to new patronage, which came through the rise of papal power with Alexander VI and Leo X. In the early sixteenth century Raphael, in his famous letter to Pope Leo X, examined the use of ground plan and elevation with respect to both ruins and architectural representation. He also wrote his own commentary on Vitruvius.27 Fra Giocondo (1511) also played a role in this reinterpretation of Vitruvius, which was continued by Cesariano (1521), Caporali (1536) and Ryff (1547). Serlio's Works of architecture marked an obvious next step. It was the first published text in this tradition: his treatise on perspective (Bk. 2) effectively serving as an introduction to subsequent sections on both architectural ruins and contemporary architecture. In the next generation, this combination of interests continued with Palladio, who codified the uses of perspective in architectural design, in creating an artist's conception of a projected work, and Androuet du Cerceau who, in one of his books, added modern structures such as San Pietro in Montorio (pl. 96.6). At the same time, a greater specialization also set in. Androuet du Cerceau wrote three different kinds of books: one devoted to the principles of perspective, a second applying it to ancient ruins, and a third to contemporary architecture. Of these the third was the most interesting because it showed various French chateaux in the context of their gardens and surrounding landscapes. Many of these engravings, including Aret and Fontainebleau, were based on existing structures, while others are idealized projections. Androuet's work nonetheless, pointed the way to later books, such as Prelle, and Decker (pl. 93.2) which showed contemporary buildings in context as "perspectives." Meanwhile, other modern artists were adding this element of context to what had hitherto been studies of single columns, individual architectural elements or, at best, isolated monuments. The sketchbooks of Maarten Heemskerck and Francisco de Hollanda gave perspectival views, or vedute, of Roman ruins in their original settings. Hieronymous Cock was another Northerner who probably visited Rome in the period 1546-1548. His Some of the principal monuments of ruins (1550) was one of the first of these collections of views (vedute) to be published. A decade later they were reproduced, without acknowledgement, by Pittoni. In 1575, Etienne Du Prac, who had been living in Rome, published the first work in

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which these views were connected with perspective in the title: Vestiges of the antiquity of Rome, collected and drawn in perspective. The same Du Prac subsequently went to France (1587) and introduced there the idea of perspectival gardens which had been developed in Tuscany through Buontalenti and others (cf. below 2.4) and which led ultimately to Le Ntre's work at Versailles (pl. 93.1). In Italy the tradition of perspectival views (vedute or prospettive) led on the one hand to Piranesi's visionary scenes of terrifying dungeons and phantastic cityscapes (cf. below 2.4), and on the other hand to Piranesi's remarkable engravings in his Architectures and perspectives (1743 etc.) which, as Herschel Levit has so effectively shown,28 bear careful comparison with modern photographs of the sites. Hence, by the eighteenth century there existed those links between perspective and, -- what we in retrospect--, see as a type of photographic realism. In these developments, the fascination with ancient monuments, and the tradition of measuring and surveying them, had played as much a role as formal treatises on perspective. As a focal point for Italian, Flemish and French practitioners and theoreticians, Rome thus played a special role in the development of classicism in architecture, but also in perspectival views and the so-called conquest of realism. It is important to recall, however, that what occured in Rome was a manifestation of a deeper trend that affected the whole of Europe. 13. Surveying and Topography Ever since Vasari it has become customary to see Giotto as a key figure in the reemergence of realism as a goal in Western art. Precisely why this happened remains a matter of debate. Some have pointed to a new interest in the natural world inspired by the Franciscan movement.29 Gombrich has connected this interest, in turn, with a new emphasis on narrative, such that paintings were involved with stories in cycles rather than isolated topics.30 Hence Giotto's realism at Assisi, Padua and Florence was partly a function of his telling a story in many episodes (see below 2.2). In addition, it was almost certainly also a function of Giotto's other activities, particularly his military concerns with surveying and topography which arose from his position as superintendent of fortifications in Padua. Giotto's younger contemporary, Simone Martini, who worked in Naples and Avignon as well as Siena, had similar professional cross-appointments. As an artist he too had military connections which makes us look afresh at the fortresses in the background of his famous portrait of Guidoriccio de Fogliano (Siena, Palazzo pubblico, 1328). Our concern here is not to enter into the lively debates whether these fortresses can be identified specifically as Montemassi and Sassoforte; whether they are merely part of a symbolic landscape or both, but simply to note that, notwithstanding connections between art and the military, fourteenth century paintings contained few stategic landmarks or recognizable buildings. Some would say that this was

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because the concept of mimesis, in a new sense (see below 2.2) had not yet reestablished itself. In the fifteenth century this changed. Brunelleschi in addition to recording public sites such as the Piazza della Signoria perspectivally, was also secretly engaged in military reconnaissance involving surveying and topographical views.31 But the contexts of this new realism were not only military. Fra Angelico included a clear view of Lake Trasimeno in his Cortona polyptych. Meanwhile, the Limbourg brothers in the North were producing the Very rich hours of the Duke of Berry with spatially convincing picture-postcard like miniatures of St. Michael's Mount and a number of the duke's great chateaux. Here patronage was almost certainly a factor. As artists began working for individual potentates, it became politic and even necessary, to include topographical views of their chateaux and other estates in the backgrounds. In the case of the Limbourg brothers, this concern with topographical views or exterior landscapes appeared in combination with interior churchscapes. A similar combination of interests is found further north in the work of Roger Campin, Roger van der Weyden and Jan van Eyck. Hence the same Van Eyck who did interiors of churches and rooms which were perspectivally convincing, although not yet completely accurate technically, includes the tower of a church at Utrecht in the midst of the landscape in the central panel of his Ghent altarpiece. Indeed an entire book has been written32 to show that landscapes such as those in the Madonna with the Chancellor Rolin represent the area near Maastricht where he spent his youth, although ambiguity remains about the extent to which these landscapes are indeed real or imaginary. In the next generation this ambiguity disappeared. Jean Fouquet, probably inspired by his visit to Rome, produced landscapes in his Hours of Etienne Chevalier, in which the cathedral of Notre Dame in Paris was clearly recognizable. In the same book of hours, Fouquet also did a convincing perspectival interior of the same church (pl. 10.1) and other rooms (pl. 53.3). Fouquet's contemporary, Konrad Witz, also produced both perspectival interiors (pl. 53.4) and exteriors with fully realistic landscapes as, for instance, in Christ walking on water (Geneva, Muse de l'art), where he depicted the westernmost shores of Lake Geneva with the peaks of the Moule and Mont Blanc in the background. In Old and New Testament scenes, the inclusion of geographical features, with local landscapes and townscapes in particular, soon became the fashion. The town of Florence in the background of Pollaiuolo's Annunciation (pl. 13.2) was a typical Italian example. But the phenomenon was by no means limited to Italy, as is confirmed by Meckseper's excellent study of Renaissance German cities which gives dozens of examples from Germany, Austria and Switzerland (pl. 26.1) in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries.33 There was a parallel development in secular landscapes. By the 1570's, with Braun and Hohenberg, this had become systematic and included all the major cities of

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Europe from Constantinople, Buda, Pest, Prague, Cracow, Moscow, Riga and Stockholm at the peripheries to the familiar centres of Rome, Paris, London, Ghent, Amsterdam and Zurich (pl. 26.2). In the next generation with Merian, this systematic approach was further developed. Hand in hand with this systematic approach was a new awareness of scale, a consciousness that one could show the same view at different levels of abstraction as is illustrated vividly in the sixteenth century hall of maps in the Vatican showing regions in one scale with inserts for cities and fortresses in a larger scale (pl. 26.3), much as modern highway maps do today. It is important to recall that the same individuals were frequently involved in the mastery of these different scales of reality. Hence the same Albrecht Drer who wrote on perspective and did interiors of rooms showing Saint Jerome, also did townscapes (pl. 60.1-2), views of earth from a nearby viewpoint (pl. 27.1), a viewpoint further away (pl. 27.4) and even maps of the stars (pl. 27.6). Similarly, the same Egnazio Danti who wrote the commentary to Giacomo Barozzi, il Vignola's Two rules of practical Biagio Pelacani da Parma

Giovanni Fontana

Leon Battista Alberti

Jacopo Bellini

Filippo Brunelleschi Paolo Uccello

Domenico Veneziano

Filarete

Piero della Francesca

Francesco di Giorgio Martini

Luca Pacioli

Leonardo da Vinci Fig. 14. Lines of influence among the chief theoreticians (1390-1500).

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perspective (1583), was cosmographer to the Medici, produced the systematic series of maps in the hall of the globes in the Palazzo Vecchio and also produced star maps in the form of astrolabes (cf.pl. 27.5). In the course of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries it became possible not only to compare different views of a scene in one scale (pl. 22-23), but also different views of a scene in different scales, as for instance, the bridge in Zurich (pl. 26.12), or the orphanage34 in Amsterdam (pl. 24.3-4). For the latter of these there exist also detailed pictures of the gate to the inner courtyard (pl. 24.2) and front gables of the house to the left in front of it (pl. 24.1). Atlases of the time by Mercator (pl. 25.1-4) and Ortelius invite a similar comparison of a given land in different scales. Theoretician L. B. Alberti Jacopo Bellini Filarete Piero della Francesca Name of Treatise On painting Elements of painting Louvre Sketchbook London Sketchbook Treatise on architecture On painters' perspective Book of abacus Book of 5 regular solids Practice of geometry Codex Atlantico Manuscript A Compendium of Arithmetic Divine Proportion Mss 9 6 1 1 8 6 1 1 6 1 1 0 2 Written 1434 143_ 1430-1450 1430-1450 1460-1470 c. 1480 c. 1480 c. 1480 c.1480-1490 1480-1519 1492 c. 1493 c.1496-1499 Published 1540 1890 1910-1012 1910-1012 1880 1880 1972 1916 1841 1894-1904 1881 1494 1508

F. di Giorgio Martini Leonardo da Vinci Luca Pacioli

Fig. 15. Fifteenth century theoreticians and their works. Excluded from this list are possible works by Fontana, Mantegna ,Bramante, Bramiantino,Foppa, Butinone and Zenale. In this context we are able to look afresh at Vermeer's Allegory of Painting (Vienna, Kunsthistorisches). On the surface, it is an epitome of perspectival realism applied to an interior scene. On closer inspection, however, the map on the wall (pl. 25.5) reveals that we are looking at the Netherlands in a scale very similar to that found in Mercator. The left and right borders of the map show us cityscapes at another scale. The painter's easel records a third scale. The model in the background stands for the original scale and, at the same time, because she is painted, again represents another scale. Hence Vermeer's Allegory is a testament of a systematic integration of various scales of abstraction within a single painting. The sources of this achievement lie much more in the tradition of perspectival practice than in the so-called theoretical literature on perspective.

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What then were the themes and functions of these theoretical texts? These are questions to which we shall return in the third and fourth chapters of our survey. Here it is important to note, by way of introduction, that the very question of what constitutes a theoretical text on perspective is itself problematic. 14. Problems of Definition We have already mentioned that sixteenth century authors such as Barbaro, Barozzi and Sirigatti saw themselves as authors of books on practical perspective on the assumption that Euclid's Elements and particularly his Optics, provided them with a theoretical basis. But the problem goes deeper. Alberti is regularly cited as author of the first extant treatise on perspective. Yet the title of that work is On Painting and it contains only a few paragraphs devoted to technical aspects of perspective. Drer is another case. His work is entitled Instruction in measurement and again contains only a few pages on perspective. The truth is that we know far too little about early perspectival theory. We know that a number of works have been lost. Giovanni Fontana, may have written the earliest treatise on perspective (see below p. ), although it is likely that he only dealt generally with effects relating to colour and aerial perspective. Paolo Uccello was certainly much concerned with perspectival principles. We have his famous sinopia for the Nativity (Florence, San Martino alla Scala), but we have no clear record of his having written a treatise. The same is true of Mantegna although, in this case, Lomazzo35 alludes to perspectival drawings he did. Both Lomazzo36 and Cellini37 refer to a now lost book by Leonardo da Vinci. Lomazzo also refers to treatises by Bramante, Bramantino and Foppa of which no trace remains.38 Looking at the fifteenth century as a whole we find there were only seven authors whose works are extant (fig. 15). All their fifteenth century manuscripts together amount to 34. Published material was limited to seven pages in Luca Pacioli's Compendium of arithmetic, geometry, proportions, and proportionality (1494). Only one treatise, Piero della Francesca's On perspective of painting actually had perspective in its title. All the authors were Italian. There were four main centres: Florence, Venice, Milan and Rome. Connected with these were other cities: Padua, Mantua, Bologna, Pisa, Siena, Urbino, Perugia and Naples. The theoreticians moved with surprising freedom. Alberti worked in Venice, Mantua, Bologna, Florence and Rome. Luca Pacioli sojourned in Venice, Urbino, Milan, Perugia, Florence, Rome and Naples. Leonardo worked in Florence, Milan, the Romagna, Rome and Amboise. This applied equally to practitioners. Masolino, for instance, worked in Florence, Prato, Rome, Castiglione d'Olona from whence he accompanied Cardinal Branda Castilione to Hungary and worked for King Matthias Corvinus. All this helps to explain the lack of manuscripts. Artists invariably worked together in workshops (botteghe) and generally would have learned their theory by word of mouth from the travelling experts. So, although perspective was technically limited to a dozen

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theoreticians moving between as many cities, the impact was larger. In retrospect, however, it is necessary to keep reminding ourselves just how small was the scale of the phenomenon if we are to appreciate, for instance, Luca Pacioli's complaint that after Leonardo left Milan in 1499 he was unable to find anyone who could draw the semi-regular solids for his Divine proportion in proper perspective.39 North of the Alps, technical knowledge of perspective was restricted to rare individuals with Italian contacts such as Jean Fouquet and Petrus Christus. In this context Drer's letter to Pirckheimer, in which he wrote that he hoped to learn the secret of perspective, makes sense. Knowledge of the laws of perspective evolved gradually and secretively during the fifteenth century in what was effectively a closed shop. Yet, as we have shown, the topics with which it dealt were part of a much larger phenomenon involving both the construction and representation of basic spatial forms which affected the Low Countries, France and Germany as well as Italy such that can properly speak of a European phenomenon. In the sixteenth century, this evolution gathered momentum. Between 1500 and 1600 there were thirty further authors who produced approximately 140 printed texts on perspective. Of these 70% were published North of the Alps. What had begun in Italy, spread to the major cities of Europe. Nevertheless, basic problems of definition remained, partly because perspective continued to be classified under other topics such as painting (Alberti), sculpture (Gauricus), optics (Ringelbergius), geometry (Hirschvogel), measurement (Drer), and architecture (Serlio) or simply included in encyclopaedic works (Reisch, Ringelbergius, Ryff) rather than as an independent topic of its own (see below 1.4) Jean Plerin's On artificial perspective (1505) in Toul was the first published text dedicated specifically to perspective. In Germany, Rodler's A beautiful, useful booklet (1531) was the first such treatise. In the Low Countries, it was Vredeman de Vries' Scenography or perspective (1560). In Italy, Barbaro's Practice of perspective (1568) was the first published treatise to deal specifically with perspective. The problem of definition became complicated in the mid-sixteenth century with the appearance of texts designed mainly for architects, which were primarily collections of perspectival images, serving as practical model books with no theoretical explanation. The case of Androuet du Cerceau is particularly interesting in this regard. One of his books, Contains optics which they call perspective (1551) alludes directly to perspective in its title (pl. 86.3-4). However, many of the engravings in this work are based directly on his Fragments of old structures (1550), in which perspective is not included in the title. Does this mean that Fragments is not a perspectival text whereas Contains optics which they call perspective is? At the risk of offending purists, I have included both. Indeed, I have consciously chosen to err on the side of including too much rather than too little for reasons which should by now be obvious. A search for books on

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perspective in the narrow technical sense described at the outset would have excluded Alberti, Filarete, Francesco di Giorgio Martini, Leonardo da Vinci, Luca Pacioli and even Albrecht Drer on the grounds that they dealt primarily with other subjects. In addition it would have excluded Jacopo Bellini, Androuet du Cerceau and Vredeman de Vries on the grounds that they contained only examples and no theory. For this reason another strategy was taken. All titles found in the 35 standard bibliographies thus far (Index I.A.) were included, as were a number of borderline works overlapping with architecture, optics, surveying and roman ruins. 15. Conclusions This chapter opened with careful modern definitions to serve as tools in analyzing the texts and closes with a plea that they not be used too directly in determining the boundaries of the field. For to do so would be to miss the whole phenomenon of historical development, of the ambiguities that existed before a new term had found its own place in an established system of classification; of the changes in meaning that came as thinkers slowly turned from the practical effects to the theoretical foundations of the method and gradually recognized that the basis thereof lay in geometry and not in optics.

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2. CENTRES 1. Introduction. 2. Europe. 3. Greater Europe. 4. Britain. 5. America. 6. Far East and Elsewhere. 7. Conclusions. 1. Introduction The importance of centres in the development and diffusion of Renaissance culture, assumed by Vasari (1550),1 and discussed by Burckhardt (1860),2 became the topic of an important book by Chastel (1965),3 who acknowledged that there were problems with the approach. For while Florence, Lombardy, Rome, Naples, Venice and Padua were of enormous significance, smaller cities such as Lodi and Prato were also important. In a subsequent book on Italy's workshops (1969)4 Chastel gave greater emphasis to these smaller cities surrounding the larger ones, as, for example, Bergamo, Brescia, Como, Vigevano and Pavia in the case of Milan. Since then there has been increasing attention in the relation between centre and periphery. Ginzburg and Castelnuovo,5 in a fundamental study, have challenged the very notion of a centre. A detailed study would need to confront these problems of method, and might draw parallels between criticism of great centres and the fashion to criticize great individuals. Our concern is more modest: to outline the development of the major centres of publication regarding perspective and to trace how these shift with time. Centres in cities were usually due to the presence of a court, university and/or a workshop. They could be centres in at least three different senses: as places of production, as places which attracted painters to meet, or as places of transit. Nor was it just a question of painters. As Settis has shown, humanist counselors played an important part in these developments. We shall concentrate on the published treatises, aware that there is a further story to be told in terms of printed engravings and the spread of images through loose drawings, which were occasionally collected in sketchbooks. For our purposes the world as a whole may conveniently be divided into five areas: Europe, greater Europe, Britain, America and the Far East (including India and Australia). The publication of texts on perspective began in Italy in the late fifteenth century. In the sixteenth century it spread to France, Belgium, the Netherlands, Germany and Switzerland. These core European countries are responsible for about 37% of all publications. Directly adjacent to these core countries are a number of others, which may be termed greater Europe. These include Spain, Portugal, Denmark, Sweden, Finland, Norway, Austria, Czechoslovakia, Poland, Roumania and the U.S.S.R. Publication in these usually began sporadically in the sixteenth, seventeenth or eighteenth century, with actual centres emerging only in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. A third area in Britain, in which England, responsible for nearly 15% of all publications, plays a dominant role. In the late sixteenth and

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throughout the seventeenth centuries it remained very much in the shadow of Europe, relying largely on translations of continental texts. But by the eighteenth century London emerged as the leading centre in the world. A fourth area, America, did not emerge until the nineteenth century, when the United States, and New York in particular, became a major centre. Canada, by contrast, has developed no centres. As for South America, Rio di Janeiro has been the only city with more than a few publications. Finally, in the case of the Far East, although perspective was introduced to China by the Jesuits in the early eighteenth century, centres of publication have only emerged in the twentieth century. In Japan, it did not begin until the 1960's, and in Taiwan, not until the 1970's. Publications in India go back to the nineteenth century, but they have remained too sporadic to speak of centres. In Australia the same has been true in the twentieth century. In the Middle East and throughout the whole of Africa no centres of publication have emerged. From the above it is clear that although perspective is an international phenomenon the extent of its impact varies enormously. Of the 48 countries involved, three published over eleven hundred treatises each: Germany (1480), England (1187) and France (1185). Three others produced between 400 and 1000, namely, Italy (851), the United States (828) and the Netherlands (425). Five countries produced betwen 100 and 200 texts (Austria, Belgium, Spain, Switzerland and the U.S.S.R.); seven produced between 25 and 100 (China, Czechoslovakia, Denmark, Japan, Poland, Scotland and Sweden), while 31 countries produced less than 25 texts each. In terms of continents, this means that approximately 85% of all publications occurred in Europe, 13% in North America, and 2% in the rest of the world. To understand better how these patterns emerged it will be useful to consider developments in each of the major areas in turn, beginning with Europe, and specifically Italy where it all began. 2. EUROPE ITALY Padua We have already suggested (above p. ), that the perspectival principles which Brunelleschi and Alberti applied to paintings, may well have been inspired by Biagio Pelacani's lectures on optics in Padua in which he used Ptolemy's Planisphere as a point of departure in comparing theoretical and practical projection methods. In any case, Padua certainly played a role in the early history of perspective. Here Giotto produced his famous examples of proto-perspectival space in the Scrovegni Chapel (1305-1307), and here, in the fifteenth century, Alberti worked, while Squarcione and Mantegna painted famous early examples of perspective. In the seventeenth century there were also a few publications, including instruments connected with perspective: Galileo's proportional compass (1606) and Scheiner's pantograph (1637) and a treatise by Viola-Zanini (1629, 1677, 1678, 1698). The eighteenth century brought work on conic sections by Rocchius (1756) and a general text on linear perspective by Stellini (1778-1782).

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PADUA

Biagio Pelacani da Parma

Paolo Nicolotto d'Udine (Paul of Venice)

Prosdocimo da Beldomandi

Giovanni Fontana Nicholas of Cusa Paolo dal Pozzo Toscanelli

L. B. Alberti

Fig. 12. Theoreticians in Padua (1390-1420). In this and the following charts, underlined names indicate authors of texts on perspective and related topics. Names underscored with a broken line indicate authors to whom texts on perspective are attributed. Those not underlined are practitioners. The nineteenth century brought a reprint of Barozzi (1808) and two moderately interesting texts by Tabacchi (1844) and Bellavitis (1851). Our century has seen two further such texts by Severi (1918, 1919) and Martinetti (1926) plus one popular work by Campedelli (1945, 1948, 1950, 1960, 1970). But to return to the fifteenth century: from Padua the ideas spread north to Venice and south to Florence (fig. 12). Giovanni Fontana returned to Venice and wrote what may have been the first treatise on perspective--no longer extant--which he dedicated to Jacopo Bellini, author of the famous Sketchbooks (pl. 6.1-2; 9.3-4, 11.2) who, in turn probably influenced Domenico Veneziano. Meanwhile Paolo dal Pozzo Toscanelli and Leon Battista Alberti returned to Florence where both were friends with Filippo Brunelleschi, reputed to have made the first demonstration of perspective sometime between 1415 and 1425. Toscanelli's interest in projection methods is shown by the sundial he constructed by means of an aperture in the cupola of the cathedral at Florence. He may also have been the author of an anonymous treatise on optics entitled On perspective 6 (Florence, Riccardiana ms. 2110). Alberti wrote the first extant treatise on perspective, the Italian version of which he dedicated to Brunelleschi, and also discussed perspective in the context of transformational geometry in his Elements of painting. Soon there were direct connections between Florence and Venice. Paolo Uccello, who studied with Donatello in the workshop of Ghiberti (1404), and knew Alberti, worked in Venice on the perspectival mosaics at San Marco (c. 1425-1430) and later also in Urbino (1465). In 1439, Domenico Veneziano moved from Venice to Florence, where he became a teacher of Piero della Francesca, who later also went to Urbino. There, in the atmosphere of the court, Piero became involved in the

39

traditions of classical mathematics, which led to his writing treatises on the subject. Piero's insights became a starting point for two other individuals active in Urbino: the architect-engineer, Francesco di Giorgio Martini and the mathematician, Luca Pacioli. In the early 1490's, Francesco di Giorgio Martini was together with Leonardo da Vinci at Pavia, and from 1496 to 1499 Pacioli and Leonardo worked together at the court of Ludovico il Moro in Milan. Leonardo drafted a treatise on perspective7 in the Manuscript A (36v-42v, 1492), and also wrote a famous treatise which is no longer extant. What emerges therefore is a fascinating network of individuals spreading ideas from Padua to centres such as Venice, Florence, Urbino and Milan. The complexity of this network will emerge more clearly as we examine these centres in turn. Venice There were important links between Florence and Venice. In 1424 Paolo Uccello went from Florence to Venice. He returned to Florence in 1431. In 1423 Jacopo Bellini travelled from Venice to Florence, became a student of Gentile da Fabriano, and came under the influence of Ghiberti, Donatello, Brunelleschi and later perhaps of Masaccio. This has led a modern author, Joost Gaugier, to speak of the tuscanization of Bellini's art.8 Bellini's Sketchbooks, produced mainly in the 1430's and 40's, were, however, much more than simple reflections of Florentine conventions. They emphasized the visual aspects of perspectival space, and introduced a new monumentality that was pioneering at the time. Bellini's two manuscripts, now in the Louvre and British Library, included no discussion of theory and contained instead brilliant examples of imaginary architectural views in perspective (pl. 9.3-4). In so doing, he initiated in tradition, which continued in Rome (see p. ), and which Androuet du Cerceau and Vredeman de Vries popularized in the North during the latter sixteenth century. Bellini's Sketchbooks had a more profound impact on Venetian culture than is usually appreciated. As Corboz (1986)9 has astutely shown, Bellini's visionary drawings functioned in an extraordinary way as an architect's conception of what in the next generation became the Doge's Palace and St. Mark's Square as we know them today. In the realm of painting, Vasari tells us10 of Jacopo Bellini's influence on Domenico Veneziano,(figs. 13 and 17), who subsequently went to Florence. Not mentioned by Vasari is Bellini's influence on Carlo Crivelli, which becomes obvious on comparison of two of Bellini's preparatory sketches for an Annunciation (pl. 83.1-2) with Crivelli's famous version of the same subject now in the National Gallery, London (pl. 83.3). Jacopo Bellini's influence is, of course, most directly evident through his children. His eldest son, Gentile, taught Vittore Carpaccio. Vasari tells us11 that Jacopo Bellini's second son, Giovanni (cf. pl. 7.2), taught both Montagna and Cima da Conegliano. The elder Bellini's daughter, Nicolosia, in turn, married Andrea Mantegna, and thus drew him into the inner circle of Venetian perspectivists, Mantegna influencing them, as much as they did him.

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VENICE I Giovanni Fontana

Jacopo Bellini Squarcione Vivarini Veneziano Nicolosia Bellini + Mantegna Domenico

Antonello da Messina Gentile Bellini Giovanni Bellini

Carlo Crivelli

Vittore Carpaccio

Montagna Cima da Conigliano

Fig. 13. Venetian theoreticians and practitioners (1400-1500). In the last two decades of the fifteenth century the monk, Luca Pacioli, became fascinated with the theological dimensions of perspective. During one of his many stays in Venice he even gave a sermon on the subject of proportion and perspective12 in the church of of San Bartolomeo on 11 August 1506, which he later published in the 1509 edition of Euclid's Elements. But Pacioli's tendencies as a publicist went well beyond sermons. With the appearance of his Compendium in 1494, Venice became the first city in Italy to publish a work on perspective (fig. 14). The next decades saw the publication there of his Divine proportion (1509), and a second edition of the Summa (1523). By the 1540's, Venice had become the most important publishing centre in Italy for texts on perspective, with 64 titles prior to 1600. Some were classical texts considered important for perspective such as Euclid (1505, 1510), Ptolemy (1511, 1548, 1561, 1562, 1564, 1574) and Vitruvius (1511). Some were architectural treatises: e.g. Cataneo (1554, 1567), Palladio (1570, 1581) and Scamozzi (1582, 1583). In some cases, as with Cristoforo Sorte (1580), who had worked with Giulio Romano, only passing comments on perspective were involved. Others, such as Giovanni Battista Benedetti (1586), were highly technical. More important was Daniele Barbaro who, as Patriarch of Aquileia, played an important role as a gobetween for new ideas, especially among instrument makers with interests in perspective, such as Baldassare Lanci, Cosimo Bartoli, Silvio Belli and Fabrizio Mordente (fig. 39, see below 2.1). Barbaro alluded to a number of these innovations in his Practice of perspective (1568, 1569), in which he consciously set out to popularize the subject, drawing on both Piero della Francesca and

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VENICE II Piero della Francesca

Luca Pacioli Bramiantino ........... Giovanni Zamberti Giulio Romano

Bramante

Baldassare Peruzzi ..................

Christoforo Sorte

Albrecht Drer

Sebastiano Serlio - Pieter Coecke

Jacopo Sansovino Jacopo Meleghino Hieronymus Cock

Daniele Barbaro

Giacomo Barozzi G.B. Pittoni

Andrea Palladio

Egnazio Danti

Vincenzo Scamozzi

Fig. 14. Venetian theoreticians and practitioners (1500-1600). Albrecht Drer, thus bringing together ideas from both central Italy and Nrnberg. Also important was Sirigatti's treatise (1596), which was based largely on Giorgio Vasari Jr.'s unpublished manuscript, and introduced a number of semi-regular solids (e.g. pl. 37.2) into the printed repertory. Indeed, Venice itself increasingly functioned as a clearing-house in exporting ideas North of the Alps, as witnessed by the most popular of all sixteenth century publications on perspective by Serlio. While still in Rome, Serlio had inherited the writings and work of Baldassare Peruzzi on the subject. This he collected as a treatise which he published separately (1542) and subsequently as book two of his works on architecture (1544-1568). By 1545, a French translation by Jean Martin

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appeared in Paris. Two years later, a German (partial) translation by Walther Ryff appeared in Nrnberg, and it is claimed that a Dutch translation by Pieter Coecke van Aelst followed in 1549. Among the individuals directly influenced by Coecke's translation of Serlio, was Hieronymus Cock who went on the produce a work on roman ruins with perspectival views (Antwerp, 1550). This was republished a decade later in Venice, in a pirate edition by Giovanni Battista Pittoni (1560, 1575), which then became the basis for a treatise by Scamozzi (1582). Paolo Gallucci also published his Italian translations of Drer (1591, 1954), and Plerin (1599), in Venice. Hence, in addition to exporting local ideas, Venice served as one of the only Italian centres, which publicized work done North of the Alps. In the seventeenth century, the significance of Venice as a centre for publishing texts on perspective dwindled considerably with 13 titles in the first three decades and only 5 in the seventy years that followed. The majority of these were reprints. Among the new authors, the best known were Contino (1645, 1660), followed by Diano da Diano (1628) and Raverta (1603) whose work on surveying and perspective also appeared in a German translation in Nrnberg (1726). The eighteenth century brought thirteen further titles, of which only Visentini's (1742) book of Venetian views bears mention. The nineteenth century added only three titles. Florence Florence was never a particularly important place for the publishing of texts on perspective. In the fifteenth century there were none. Its significance for the early history of perspective (cf. fig. XVI) was nonetheless enormous. Here Brunelleschi, who was being referred to as a perspectivist (prospettivo), as early as 1410, performed his historic demonstrations involving the Baptistry and the Piazza Signoria (1415-1425) and even before this, according to Vasari, Lorenzo Ghiberti was exploring proto-perspectival methods which influenced Maso di Christofano, Paolo Uccello,13 Donatello and Antonio Pollaiuolo. In addition, although modern criticism doubts the heritage, Vasari also reports on14 Donatello's significance for both Masolino and Squarcione who in turn taught Mantegna the rudiments of perspective in Padua and influenced the Ferrara school through Cosme Tura and his pupil, Ercole de Roberti (fig.15). The perspectival treatises of Alberti and the optical manuscript ascribed to Toscanelli written in Florence have already been mentioned. It is noteworthy that the painter Vasari omits mention of their possible debt to Biagio Pelacani and the Paduan tradition of optics and astronomy, emphasizing instead their association with Brunelleschi and that painter's influence on Masaccio and Filarete.15 In the second generation (1440-1470), with the exception of a few pages on the subject by Filarete,--who, although Florentine by birth, was much more influenced

43

by the Roman and Milanese tradition--, the field was dominated by practitioners (fig. 16). From the North, Domenico Veneziano brought with him a Venetian sense of space which inspired Fra Angelico and, as Vasari tells us,16 the lineage of painters including Andrea del Castagno, Piero Pollaiuolo, Filippo Lippi and Sandro Botticelli, as well as Andrea del Verrocchio, whose workshops included Sandro Botticelli, Botticini, Fiorenzo di Lorenzo, Leonardo da Vinci, and Perugino. Piero della Francesca was another key figure, who also had a large number of followers, including, as Vasari reports, the maker of intarsia, Cristoforo da Lendinara; the painter Melozzo da Forli,17 the architect-engineer Francesco di Giorgio Martini and the mathematician, Luca Pacioli. In the period 1470-1500 (cf. fig. XVIII), four individuals with Florentine connections wrote on perspective, namely, Piero della Francesca, Francesco di Giorgio Martini, Luca Pacioli and Leonardo da Vinci. But of these, Piero and Francesco di Giorgio had Urbino as the chief base for their theoretical work, Leonardo da Vinci did his most significant writing in Milan, while Pacioli's writing occurred in Milan, Venice and Rome. Nor did the situation change drastically in the sixteenth century which saw the publication of one important work by Gauricus (1504), a work by Dosio inspired by Roman ruins (1589) and three classical authors believed relevant to perspective, namely, Lucretius (1512), Euclid (1573) and Heliodorus of Larissa (1573). There was also Giorgio Vasari, Jr.'s manuscript of 1595 (pl. 36.3), which served as a basis for Sirigatti's treatise (1596, cf. p. 37.2). If Florence was never really a major centre in terms of theory, it was nonetheless of crucial importance in terms of paintings, gardens (see below II.3), object (e.g. what the Italians call bicchierographia), and architecture.

FLORENCE I Paolo dal Pozzo Toscanelli Leon Battista Alberti Lorenzo Ghiberti

Taccola - Filippo Brunelleschi Pollaiuolo

Paolo Uccello Donatello

Antonio

Maso di Christoforo

Masaccio

Masolino

Antonio di Tuccio Manetti Squarcione

Filarete

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Cosme Tura

Mantegna

Cosme Tura

Ercole di Roberti

Fig. 15. Florentine practitioners and theoreticians (1400-1440).

FLORENCE II Domenico Veneziano Fouquet Filarete -Jean

Andrea del Castagno

Fra Angelico

Piero della Francesca

Piero Pollaiuolo

Alesso Baldovinetti

Filippo Lippi

Andrea del Verrocchio

Sandro Botticelli Ghirlandaio Botticini Fiorenzo di Lorenzo Perugino

Fig. 16. Florentine practitioners and theoreticians (1440-1470).

FLORENCE III Francesco di Lauranna Piero della Francesca

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C. da Lendinara Melozzo da Forli F. di Giorgio Martini Luca Pacioli Andrea del Verrocchio

Luca Signorelli Fra Giovanni da Verona

Leonardo da Vinci

Perugino

Cennino Cennini Baccio Bandinelli

Raphael G.B. Caporali G. Genga

Benedetto Maiano

da

Sebastiano Serlio Diaceto Bugiardino Francesco de Salviati

Fra Bartolommeo

Benedetto Salviati della Porta

Giulio Romano Lanci

Baldassare

Martino Bassi B.Genga

Ammanati

Giorgio Vasari

Giorgio Vasari Jr.

46

Fig. 17. Florentine practitioners and theoreticians (1470-1600).

Curiously enough it played the same role with respect to universal measuring instruments and the sector which came to be intimately connected with perspective (cf.pp. ). This story involves a complex heritage of techniques and ideas which can be traced (fig. 41) from Nrnberg in the latter fifteenth and early sixteenth centuries (Peurbach, Regiomontanus, Apian), via Antwerp in the 1530's and 40's (Gemma Frisius, Mercator), and Paris in the 1540's - 1560's (Orone Fin, Pierre de la Rame and Abel Foullon), south (fig. 39) to Venice in the 1560's (Silvio Belli, Daniele Barbaro, Fabrizio Mordente, Latino Orsini), and finally to Florence (Cosimo Bartoli, Egnazio Danti, Francesco Pifferi) where in 1594, the same Giorgio Vasari, Jr. who wrote on perspective, prepared a compendium of all universal measuring instruments in the grand duke of Tuscany's collection. In terms of practical examples, this manuscript was undoubtedly of interest to Galileo Galilei who, by 1596, was developing his sector in Padua. The seventeenth century saw no basic change in this Florentine pattern. There was a book on Roman ruins by Maggi (1600), and on views of Jerusalem by Amico (1620); a manuscript by Galileo's friend Lodovico Cardi (il Cigoli, c. 1612), which was never published; one important textbook by Accolti (1526, cf. 1627, 1628); a significant treatise by Malombra (1630) and a mathematical one by Torricelli (1644). The eighteenth century saw one classical text by Apollonius (1722) and two modern works by Lorenzini (1721) and Grandi (1744, 1750, 1764) on conic sections, plus a significant edition of Leonardo's Treatise of painting (1792). The nineteenth century brought a half dozen new authors: Rossi Melocchi (1805), Benvenuti (1817), Castagnoli (1830), Sanquirico (1840), Cucchi (1862) and Bellotti (1892) plus a new interest in Renaissance authors particularly Ghiberti (1839), Alberti (1843, 1849, 1890) and Barozzi da Vignola (1831). The twentieth century has seen a development of this trend with editions of Toscanelli (1964), Alberti (1950, 1972), Bellini (1908), Francesco di Giorgio Martini (1970), Piero della Francesca (1942, 1974, 1984), Leonardo (1973) and Lomazzo (1975) plus at least ten modern authors, notably Saccardi (1961, 1970, 1975), Monticolo (1965, 1975) and more recently Aterini (1978, 1980). The interest in reprints is a reflection of a larger pattern, for Florence has become one of the leading centres in terms of secondary literature about the history of perspective. Urbino At Urbino interest in perspective was more closely connected with mathematics. As Rose (1975),18 has so elegantly shown, by the 1470's Urbino had become a major centre for the collection of mathematical texts, largely due to duke Guidobaldo da Montefeltro's personal interests. The duke had his own copies of Piero della Francesca's Book of the abacus, Booklet of the five regular solids, and

47

On the perspective of painting, all three of which--as Egnazio Danti (1583) noted-were considered as texts on perspective and served, as Daly Davis (1977)19 has demonstrated, as sources for Luca Pacioli's Summa (1494) and Divine proportion (written 1496-1499) and published 1509). In the latter decades of the fifteenth century, Francesco di Giorgio Martini, who20 was one of the chief architects of the ducal palace, and responsible for the striking perspectival intarsia in the library (pl. 79.1), also wrote on perspective there. In the mid-sixteenth century, the collection of mathematical manuscripts was given new impetus by Federico Commandino who launched a programme to edit and publish major Greek and Latin classics. His initiatives attracted a wide circle of scholars and scientists (fig. 38), which included Nicolo Tartaglia, John Dee and Giovanni Battista Benedetti.Of particular interest for our purposes, is Commandino's edition of Ptolemy's Planisphere (1558), in which he related the projections of planispheres with those of linear perspective. This recognition, that perspective involved a special case of projections that occured also in planispheres and astrolabes, brought to light a need for a more general theory of projections, which Commandino's student, Guidobaldo del Monte, attempted to fulfill in his classic text (1600), in which he demonstrated that a single universal principle underlay 23 practical methods then in use. In the revival of the Greek mathematical tradition, the texts of Apollonius and Pappus played a special role because they focussed on the theme of conic sections. Already in the 1540's, Nicolo Tartaglia in Venice had drawn attention to them. Francesco Maurolyco had gone further. But again it was Commandino who set about editing them. Both Maurolyco and Commandino were in touch with Christopher Clavius who was, in turn, a mentor of both Paul Guldin and Gregorius Saint Vincent. In the next generation Galileo, a direct descendent of the Urbino tradition, became the teacher of Bonaventura Cavalieri, Italy's foremost expert on conic sections in the early seventeenth century. These same individuals were involved with projection problems in astrolabes (Commandino, Clavius), sundials (Maurolyco, Clavius) and perspective (Commandino, Guidobaldo del Monte), and became aware that such practical interests were related to the projections involved in conic sections. The study of conic sections also brought a philosophical problem into focus. A cone at its base is a continuous surface bounded by lines. At its apex it is a discrete point. Ancient philosophers had treated continuous and discrete quantitities, (geometry and arithmetic) as independent worlds. Renaissance thinkers began to explore how the two related to one another: whence Galileo's long introduction in his Dialogue concerning the two chief world systems, devoted to line and point, involving cones as examples, or Cavalieri and Saint-Vincent's preoccupation with indivisibles, or Fermat's concerns with maxima and minima. But in a sense, Urbino merely prepared the way. As will be shown below (pp. ), it was in Paris that these new connections between conic sections and perspective came to fruition.

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In Urbino, this same small circle of Commandino and Guidobaldo del Monte, in touch with Clavius, Mordente and Galileo, were equally involved with the development of universal measuring devices and principles of statics and dynamics. Hence, the search for general principles of perspective in Urbino, was part of a larger trend towards quantification, which made possible the universal claims of early modern science (cf. below 2.1). However after the collapse of Urbino's political power at the end of the sixteenth century, its significance quickly vanished and did not return. Paris soon took its place as the chief centre for mathematics. Meanwhile Rome remained the chief city in Italy. Rome In terms of perspectival practice, Rome was important from the outset, as witnessed by the Annunciation in San Clemente by Masolino and his pupil Masaccio in the late 1420's, and Fra Angelico's work in the Vatican Stanze (c. 1455). With the return of the papal court from Avignon back to Rome, there was renewed papal patronage. Beginning with Sixtus IV in 1482 and continuing until 1527 there emerged in Rome a vision of Italian national art. Sixtus IV saw Rome as a twin capital: through the church it was the capital of Italy, but it was also the capital of the Roman empire. The rebuilding of the Vatican complex provided a major incentive for perspectival practice beginning with isolated paintings such as Melozzo da Forli's Inauguration of the Vatican Library (c. 1475), Mantegna's decorations in the chapel of Innocent VIII (1490), and the friezes in the map room of the Palazzo Venezia attributed to him (c. 1490); series by Botticelli, Ghirlandaio and Perugino on the walls of the Sistine Chapel, Michelangelo's trompe l'oeil effects on the ceiling of this same chapel (1506-1508), and finally Raphael's monumental cycles in the Stanze, with the School of Athens (pl. 11.5), which remains one of the most famous perspectival interiors, although the details of its construction may be inaccurate.

ROME I Foppa Mantegna Melozzo da Forli Leonardo da Vinci

Perugino

Bramante

Raphael

Antonio da Sangallo

Giulio Romano

49

Baldassare Peruzzi Antonio da Sangallo, Jr. Cristoforo Sorte Sebastiano Serlio

Fig. 20. Practitioners and theoreticians in Rome (1450-1550). ROME II Antonio da Sangallo Heemskerck Martin

Hieronymus Cock

Antonio Labacco Giovanni Battista Pittoni

Etienne du Perac

Antoine Lafreri - Antonio Salamanca

Vincenzo Scamozzi

Mario Kartarus

J. Sadeler

Pieter II. Stevens

Hendrik II Hondius

Samuel Marolois

Fig. 21. Artists and publishers of perspective and Roman ruins (1550-1620). The numerous artists' conceptions for the new St. Peter's, by Raphael, Bramante, Antonio da Sangallo, Baldassare Peruzzi (cf. pl. 84.5) and Michelangelo, were a further incentive to perspectival drawings21 (fig.20). In some cases, as with the

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Farnesina, a commission from within papal circles, led to a remarkable trompe l'oeil interior by Baldassare Peruzzi. Meanwhile, there were also the ruins of the ancient city, which made Rome a centre for those concerned with surveying and perspectival representation. This had begun in the early fifteenth century as a type of artistic pilgrimage with architects and painters such as Brunelleschi and Donatello. Alberti's Description of the city of Rome, was part of that tradition, as were Filarete's sketches of isolated buildings--which influenced Fouquet when he visited Rome. Lotz (1967),22 has outlined some of the more important steps in these developments, which continued through the sixteenth century with Agostino Veneziano, Sebastiano Serlio and others producing individual engravings, which were later collected in albums such as the Wolfenbttel book of engravings (c. 1540). From the 1460's onwards, however, others such as Francesco di Giorgio Martini had begun gathering their sketches together in manuscript treatises on architecture and geometry. Bramantino's Antiquity of Rome (c.1500) marked a next step. Meanwhile, another tradition was coming into play. Pope Julius II took particular interest in Rome's antiquity, to study which he brought in Bramante (1501) and Raphael (1508), whom he subsequently (1510) appointed as director of antiquities. Raphael introduced both a new scale in construction and an archaeological dimension. He had his own manuscript translation of Vitruvius, was concerned with how the principles of perspective related to architectural representation (involving ground plan and elevation). As a result, the Roman monuments came to be seen increasingly in the context of contemporary architectural theory and practice. The illustrated editions of Vitruvius, by Fra Giocondo (1511) and Cesariano (1521), heralded this new interest and led to new architectual treatises by Palladio (1570) and Scamozzi (1582). At a more practical level, Francesco di Giorgio Martini's student, Baldassare Peruzzi, developed the ordinary rule, a short cut method of finding diagonals, later discussed by Danti in his edition of Vignola's Two rules of practical perspective (1583). Peruzzi also developed a new kind of illustrated architectural book, which included both roman ruins and modern edifices. Serlio systematized this, and began publishing his work in the 1540's. Northerners, such as Francisco de Hollanda, Martin van Heemskerck, Hieronymus Cock and Jacques Androuet du Cerceau developed their own type of sketchbook, specializing in idealized perspectival ruins, which were sometimes a conscious combination of real and phantastic elements. By 1550, Androuet du Cerceau (pl. 86.3-5) in Orlans (and later in Paris), and Hieronymus Cock in Antwerp began publishing these. In the 1560's, Antonio Labacco, a student of Antonio da Sangallo, began publishing his own versions of the ruins in Rome (fig. 21). This was followed, in 1575, by Etienne du Prac's treatise. His acquaintance, Antoine Lafrry, who was both cartographer and publisher, collected together a number of isolated engravings by Antonio Salamanca and others in producing his great Topography of

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the city of Rome (1575-1602). Cartaro (1578), produced his own collection on a smaller scale. In the seventeenth century, ruins, sometimes in combination with modern buildings, dominated publications in Rome, including Lauro (1612, 1625, 1637, 1641), Orlandi (1612), Maggi (1618, 1649), Montano (1624, 1638, 1691), Bramante (1647), Rossi (1647), Falda (1655, 1663, 1665, 1666, 1667, 1670, 1675, 1680, 1683) and Ferrario (1655, 1665). There were several editions of Barozzi (1602, 1642, 1644, 1684), while the scientific side was dominated by Jesuits, beginning with Scheiner's work on the pantograph (1631), Kircher's encyclopaedia of light and shade (1646), Maignan's great treatise on sundials and perspective (1648, 1698), and at the end of the century, Pozzo's Perspective of painters and architects (1693, 1694). In the eighteenth century, two authors dominated the scene: Pozzo (1700, 1702, 1707, 1717, 1723, 1737, 1741, 1758, 1764, 1793) and Piranesi (1740, 1743, 1748, 1750, 1752, 1761, 1770, 1781, 1797, 1798). There were a number of reprints of earlier works by Maignan (1725), Le Clerc (1746), Barozzi (1770), Du Perac (1773), Falda (1773), Labacco (1773). There was an Italian translation of Taylor's fundamental work (1755, 1756) and there were at least three new treatises by Campiglia (1739), Antonini (1770) and Orsini (1771). The nineteenth century added only 25 new titles, as compared to 52 in the eighteenth. There were again reprints such as Leonardo (1817, 1890), and Pozzo (1810, 1828, 1840), plus at least seven new authors including Sereni (1826), Lanciani (1849), Gilli (1887), Fiorini (1889), Garneri (1895), Borgogelli (1897) and Bechetti (1899). Of these Borgogelli remained popular in the twentieth century with at least seven new editions (1905, 1908, 1909, 1915, 1919, 1920, 1937). There have also been at thirty-six other books, notably Fausto Vagnetti's classic textbook (1947), and works by Lazzaroni (1908), Nico (1920, 1923), Simoni (1973, 1976), and Sinisgalli (1978). Rome, which was the world centre of perspective at the turn of the sixteenth century, has thus retained a significant role to this day. Milan The role of Milan in the development of perspective is frequently underestimated. The marriage of Francesco I Sforza with ** Gonzaga (1451), issued in a new era. Vincenzo Foppa went to Mantua, where Mantegna served as an exemplar. By 1468, he was back in Milan working in Sant Eustorgio. In the decades that followed, Bramante produced his great illusionistic Choir in Santa Maria presso San Sepolcro (pl. 5.4) and Leonardo painted the Last Supper (1495-1497). In terms of perspectival practice, these two works could be seen as the greatest examples of the entire Renaissance. Milan was also of some importance in terms of theory (fig.18). Vasari reports23 that Filarete taught Vincenzo Foppa, who in turn taught the painter Butinone, Zenale and Bergognone. If credence can be given to the testimony of Lomazzo,24

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Foppa, Butinone, Bramante, Zenale and Leonardo da Vinci all wrote treatises. Unfortunately no trace of the originals survives. Even so the scattered evidence in Leonardo's notebooks provides some impression of what was happening in the 1480's and 1490's. Leonardo recognized that perspective involved more than copying the physical world, that it applied equally to different levels of abstraction and served as a bridge between the concreteness of nature and abstractions of mathematics. In addition, while his elder contemporary Piero della Francesca was content to rely on Euclid for theory, Leonardo insisted on systematic experimental demonstrations of the principles of perspective. He also became convinced that these principles could be applied equally to the physics of heat and light, indeed to the whole of nature25 (cf. below 2.1). MILAN Fouquet Pisanello Mantegna Filarete Jacopo Bellini

Bramante

Leonardo da Vinci

Vincenzo Foppa

Zenale

Butinone

Luca Pacioli

Bergognone

Bramiantino ........... Lomazzo Jacopo Sansovino Luca Signorelli

Fig. 18. Milanese theoreticians and practitioners (1450-1500). In terms of published works during the fifteenth century there was only Fazio Cardan's edition of Peckham's optical textbook, Common perspective (1482). The French invasion of 1499, and the dispersal of the Sforza court temporarily obliterated Milan's importance as a centre. And yet it continued to have some importance as is witnessed by the work of Carlo Urbino. Martino Bassi's diatribe against Pellegrino Tebaldi, concerning the relief of the Annunication for the choir of Milan cathedral, remained primarily of academic interest. (This work published in Brescia in 1571, 1572 was reprinted in Milan in 1771.) In the latter sixteenth century, in nearby Cremona, Carlo Urbino is believed26 to have composed the Codex Huygens, based on Leonardo da Vinci's studies of proportion and foreshortening applied to the human body (pl. 68.5).

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Lomazzo's treatise, published in Milan (1584, 1585), was largely a review of earlier glory. The seventeenth century brought only two new works: Raverta's treatise on surveying and perspective (1602), and Barca (1620), as well as a possible edition of Bramantino (1612). The eighteenth century brought nothing. The nineteenth century, by contrast, brought 52 books published in Milan. A dozen of these were reprints of Renaissance texts, notably Alberti (1803, 1804, 1840), Barozzi (1814, 1819, 1830, 1832, 1840, 1850, 1869) and Leonardo (1804, 1859, 1894). There were at least four original authors: Zanotti (1804, 1825), Taccani (1813, 1825), Bordoni (1816) and Landriani (1815, 1818, 1824, 1827, 1833), plus others such as Sella (1861), Suini (1880, 1896), Aschieri (1883, 1888, 1895) and Vegetti (1894, 1895). The twentieth century brought 78 further books, including reprints of five Renaissance authors, Ghiberti (1965), Filarete (1972), Martini (1967), Pacioli (1956, 1973) and Drer (1973) and one baroque author, Guarini (1968). Thanks to firms such as Hoepli, Milan has become the chief Italian centre for primary texts on perspective in the twentieth century. It has published the two authors who have dominated the scene: Claudi (1896, 1897, 1903, 1910, 1915, 1920, 1924, 1929, 1935, 1938, 1940, 1942, 1951) and Chiesa (1931, 1938, 1943, 1944, 1947, 1951, 1956, 1961, 1967, 1969, 1975, 1980). It has also published three other popular authors: Seller (1942, 1944, 1946, 1949, 1960); Roversi (1945, 1948, 1949, 1952) and Bonfigli (1960, 1962, 1968, 1975, 1976, 1979). Smaller companies such as Bertolini have published Elias (1973) on spherical perspective. Bologna Bologna with its university, the Bentivoglio family, who created a court-like atmosphere, and--after 1500-its connections with the papacy, was another important centre, the history of which sadly needs study. We are told that Albrecht Drer learned the secret of perspective there. In Bologna, Bramante was responsible for the cloisters of the catholic university. During the sixteenth century, the works of Apollonius and Serenus were published there (1566) as was Ptolemy's study of the planisphere (1572). In the seventeenth century, other than two editions of Vignola (1662, 1682), the main works were by Jesuits: Mario Bettini's monumental Beehive of the universe of philosophy (1642, 1645, 1654, 1660), and Scheiner's work on the pantograph (1653). Giulio Troili also published his important textbook in Bologna (1672, 1683). The eighteenth century saw 26 publications which included two new editions of Scheiner (1726, 1749), a series of editions of Galli da Bibiena (1703, 1725, 1731, 1732, 1745, 1749, 1753, 1764, 1777) and some original work by Quadri (1744), Tesi (1787) and Zanotti (1755, 1766, 1767, 1782). The nineteenth century saw a reprint of Troili (1863), plus a half dozen new authors: Basoli (1810, 1812), Marconi (1811), Magistrini (1816), Fagnoli (1840), Cocchi (1851, 1855), and Fiorini (1892). This pattern remained unchanged in the twentieth century, with one reprint of Barozzi (il Vignola) (1974), and seven new authors: Tagliavini

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(1904), Severi (1906), Chisini (1960), Boccaleone (1963), Speranza 91963), Lorgna (1971) and Nannoni (1978) none of whom has changed the field. Naples Naples is another centre, which deserves more attention. Under the patronage of Alfonse of Aragon, it was here that Pisanello produced his proto-perspectival frescoes. The city's historical connections with Anjou brought important visitors from the North such as Jean Fouquet and Ren d'Anjou. In Naples, Fra Giocondo worked on his famous edition of Vitruvius (Rome 1511). Publications did not begin until the latter half of the sixteenth century, with Porta's work on natural magic, which discussed the use of camera obscuras in painting (1558, 1569, 1593) and Romano's treatise on military uses of perspective (1595). The seventeenth century brought new editions of Porta (1611, 1726) and Maurolico's (1611) work on optics. The eighteenth century saw reprints of two Renaissance authors, Alberti and Leonardo (1733), plus three new ones: Januariis (1714), Martino (1727, 1734), Grandi (1737). The nineteenth century brought one popular author, Flauti (1815, 1820, 1827, 1841, 1842, 1846) and five further authors of whom Capobianco (1960, 1966), Fusco (1968) and Tenta (1968) may be mentioned in passing. Other Italian Cities There were a number of Italian cities, which published only one title on perspective in the period 1500-1700. Frequently these were in the orbit of a nearby court. Connected with Milan for example were Como, where Cesariano published his edition of Vitruvius (1521); Brescia where Bassi's Various matters (1571) appeared, Vigevano, as well as the court at Mantua, where both Alberti and Mantegna were active. Linked with Urbino, was Pesaro, which saw the first edition of Guidobaldo del Monte's landmark Six books of perspective (1600). Linked with the court of Ferrara was Ravenna. Siena offers an interesting case of a city, which began with an independent tradition. Ambrogio Lorenzetti's Annunciation (Siena, Gallery, 1348), is reported to have been the first painting in which all the lines of the floor tiles converge to a single vanishing point.27 But by the fifteenth century, as the Florentines developed demonstrations of perspective, Donatello and Ghiberti influenced the Sienese Il Vecchietta (fig. 19). He, along with another Florentine, Verrocchio, became the teacher of Francesco di Giorgio Martini, who went on to do his main work in Urbino and Rome. SIENA Il Sassetta Ghiberti Donatello Verrocchio

Il Vecchietta

55

Francesco di Giorgio Martini

Leonardo da Vinci

Agostino Chigi

Pintoricchio Baldassare Peruzzi

Sodoma

Fig. 19. Sienese practitioners and theoreticians (1400-1550). Some smaller cities, which published treaties on perspective, maintained their independence, notably Cesena, Livorno, Monte Regale, Perugia and Pisa. In the case of Palermo, there were no publications until the eighteenth century, which brought four interesting authors: Spuccez-Lanza (1701-1711), Aidoni (1706), Amato (1714, 1733, 1736) and Amico (1750). Then for almost 150 years there was nothing until Basile (1898), with seven further authors in the twentieth century of which Filosto (1964, 1979) and Santapa (1968) may be mentioned. It is important to note, however, that these patterns of publication do not tell the whole story. Some cities had no publications yet owed their significance to an artist who left his mark there. Piero della Francesca in Arezzo is the classic case. Masolino in Castiglione Olona or Filippo Lippi, with his great Annunciation in the cathedral at Spoleto, are other examples. Moreover, as Vasari reminds us, oral communication played a much greater role than is sometimes imagined. This took place at three distinct levels. In rare cases, a thinker would communicate with an author as in the case of Malatini when he advised Daniele Barbaro. Sometimes, a practitioner would counsel a theoretician, as Giulio Romano did with Cristoforo Sorte. More often, the master of a workshop would simply instruct his apprentices directly. This is almost certainly how Masaccio, Fra Angelico, Botticelli, Ghirlandaio, Michelangelo and a number of their contemporaries learned perspective. There was yet another factor. Even after the invention of printing, manuscripts continued to have precedence over books in some humanist libraries which helps explain why none of the major fifteenth century authors on perspective was published at the time (figure 15). In the North, the relative emphasis on oral, manuscript and printed communication was different. From the prefaces of Plerin (1505) in France, and Vredeman de Vries (1604) in the low countries, we know that this oral tradition existed also in the North, but to a lesser degree, and in Germany, Pfintzing (1598) reports only one individual, Hans Haiden, who communicated his ideas by word of mouth. As for manuscripts, we know of isolated instances such as the copy of Alberti made in 1476, but no cases where an author on perspective relied on manuscripts for the spread of his ideas. There was much more emphasis on printing. Indeed authors were sometimes publishers of their own works as with Jacques Androuet Du

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Cerceau. Others such as Hieronymous Cock, Philippe Galle, Melchior Tavernier and Francois Langlois published their own and other writings. This is also true of Theodore Galle who, in addition, had close contacts with another publisher through his marriage to Christoph Plantin's sister. It is not surprising therefore, that already in the sixteenth century approximately 56% of titles on perspective were published in the North. By the seventeenth century this had risen to 77%. Paris played a special role in this trend. Indeed between 1500 and 1700, 150 books were published there, as many as in the whole of Italy combined. It will be useful therefore to consider this city in some detail before turning to other northern centres. FRANCE Paris

It is generally agreed that Fouquet was the first in France to practice linear perspective, as is evidenced by his rendering of Notre Dame in Paris, in his Hours of Etienne Chevalier (pl. 11.1). He is thought to have learned the principles from Filarete in Rome, sometime between 1445 and 1450 (fig. 22). Around 1476, a French canon, Jean Plerin, Le Viator, is also believed to have made a visit to Italy, where he too learned perspective.28 This became the basis for his treatise (Toul, 1505), which was based partly on Parisian scenes (pl. 11.3) and must have been known in the city as it formed the basis of Ringelbergius' treatise (Paris 1521). Francis I provided an important catalyst for perspective in France by inviting Italian artists to his courts at Amboise, Romorantin and Fontainebleau, first Leonardo de Vinci (1515-1519), then Rosso Fiorentino, whose students included Jean Cousin, author of a Book of perspective (1560), and Sebastiano Serlio, from 1541 until his death in 1551, who worked on plans for reconstruction of the Louvre, and whose writings were translated by Jean Martin and published in Paris (1545-1547, 1587, 1590). Also engaged in these plans for the new Louvre, was Jacques Androuet du Cerceau, a native of Orlans, who published a posthumous treatise of Leonard Thiry from Antwerp, as well as his own writings about architecture and perspective. When religious wars forced Androuet du Cerceau to leave Paris, his architectural projects were inherited by Etienne Du Prac, of roman ruins fame, who taught Claude Mollet about perspective in gardening and whose son, Andr Mollet, in turn became a teacher of Andr Le Ntre, who constructed the great illusionistic gardens at Vaux le Vicomte and Versailles (see below 2.3). During the sixteenth century, seventeen books on perspective were published in Paris: approximately 14% of the total in Europe. Even so, only four authors were involved: Androuet Du Cerceau, Cousin, Drer and Serlio: two French, one German, one Italian. Hence, as late as 1600 Paris was surprisingly limited in its horizon. In the next century this changed radically: a third of all books on the subject were published there. Indeed with 133 books in the seventeenth century Paris became the world's leading centre. This did not involve a complete break

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with the past. There were reprints of foreign Renaissance authors: Alberti (1651), Barozzi (1620), Leonardo (1651) and Cardi (1663), as well as earlier French authors, particularly Androuet Du Cerceau (1607, 1611, 1615, 1648, 1676) and Cousin, le jeune (1600, 1603, 1612, 1618, 1625, 1635, 1642, 1647, 1656, 1671, 1676). There was a continued interest in both military architecture (e.g. Perret 1601, Bourdin 1655, and Bourgoing 1661) and civil architecture (e.g. Blondel 1675, 1698, Bullet 1675, Rohault, 1682, Deis 1698 and Aviler 1691). But there was a shift in the context of discussions. What had been a topic for painters in the fifteenth, and architects in the sixteenth centuries, now also became a concern for mathematicians. The reasons were several. One involved conic sections. As in Urbino (cf. pp. ), the Parisian thinkers were stimulated by problems arising out of the classical texts of Apollonius and Pappus, the difference being that in Paris, the connections between conic sections and perspective were explored much more intensely. Here Jean, le Sieur de Vaulezard (1631) played a role. But it was mainly due to an extraordinary circle of the 1630's known as the Acadmie Parisienne which included Roberval, Etienne Pascal, Marin Mersenne, Blaise Pascal, Claude Mydorge and Girard Desargues, the latter three of which were at the centre of studies concerning both conic sections and perspective. The questions they raised later directly influenced Philippe de la Hire, Leibniz and Newton. In Urbino, thinkers had recognized that this nexus of problems raised philosophical questions concerning the relation of geometry (continuous quantities or lines) to arithmetic (discrete quantities or points). In Paris, these questions became much more acute. In 1600, Henri de Monantheuil, a student of Pierre de la Rame had written a treatise on the relationship between point and line. His claims were challenged

PARIS I Filarete Jean Fouquet Leonardo da Vinci Jean Plerin Rosso Fiorentino

Jean Cousin

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Leonard Thiry Hieronymus Cock

Sebastiano Serlio

Jacques Androuet du Cerceau

Daniele Barbaro Lencker Etienne Du Prac

Hans

Jean Cousin le jeune (?) Jacques Boyceau Claude Mollet Andr Mollet Serres Andr le Nostre Fig 22. The emergence of Paris as a centre for perspectival theory (1450-1600). by the mathematician, Jacques Alaume, also the author of a treatise on perspective, edited by Etienne Migon, which influenced both Claude Mydorge and Girard Desargues. There were other developments, which gave an unexpected urgency to these debates concerning points, lines, perspective and conic sections. During the sixteenth century, the leading German experts on cossist algebra, notably Michael Stifel, Peter Rothe and Johann Faulhaber, had concentrated on numerical problems and their symbols. French thinkers such as Pierre de La Rame had suggested that cossist algebra was a vulgar form of the analytical method of Greek mathematics. Franois Vite developed this idea. He distinguished clearly between a purely numerical approach (logistique numrique), and his more general method (logistique spcieuse or calcul des symbols), whereby he resolved geometrical questions by means of algebraic analysis. Pierre de Fermat further developed Vite's idea of symbolic algebra as a tool by means PARIS II Olivier de

Philippe Danfrie Pierre de la Rame Franc ois Vite

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Salomon de Caus Henry de Suberville Johann Faulhaber

Henri de Monantheuil Jacques Alaume

Denis Henrion Jean,le Sieur Vaulezard

Etienne Migon

Pierre Hrigone

Descartes Mersenne Pascal Desargues Mydorge E. Pascal Roberval P. de Fermat

Jean Francois Nicron

Nicolas Poussin Abraham Bosse Melchior Tavernier

Jean Curabelle

Laurent de la Hire Jean Dubreuil

Philippe de Champaigne

Jean le Bicheur

Grgoire Huret

Philippe de la Hire

60

Leibniz

Isaac Newton

Fig. 23. Paris as the world centre for mathematics and perspective.(1600-1700).

of which one could unite the realms of arithmetic and geometry. Fermat's study of Apollonius' Conics, led him to perceive in the cone and its sections, a standard geometrical framework through which he could establish correspondences between equations and curves. The result was an analytic geometry, which concentrated on the geometrical construction of curves. His contemporary, Ren Descartes, another of the founders of analytic geometry, slighted Fermat's manner of construction, and focussed his own energies on a new and more advanced theory of equations. As he explained in a letter to Beeckman on 26 March 1619, Descartes was consciously searching for a new science "by which all questions can be reduced that can be proposed for any sort of quantity either continuous or discrete."29 In arriving at this new science, whereby geometry and arithmetic were reconciled, and numbers could be plotted as lines on coordinates, Descartes also relied on the construction theorems of Apollonius' Conics. This helps to explain both the tremendous fascination with conic sections from the 1630's onwards, and the preoccupation with perspective, which offered a scientific means of visualizing the complex intersections involved (fig.23). Yet another factor went hand in hand with these developments. As in other European centres (cf. 2.1), Paris witnessed a great interest in universal measuring instruments in the latter sixteenth century: Abel Foullon's holomtre, Jacques Besson's cosmolabe, Philippe Danfrie's graphomtre and Henry de Suberville's henrymtre. By about 1609, Jacques Alaume, who also wrote on perspective, had developed his own version of a sector. Denis Henrion improved upon it. Pierre Hrigone further developed it, and mentioned its application to perspective, a topic which Jean, le Sieur de Vaulezard took further, showing the sector's uses in determining various anamorphic projections in conic mirrors. In his letter to Beeckman about his new science, Descartes had specifically referred to the need for "new kinds of compasses"30 to demonstrate the new method. Was this what Hrigone and Vaulezard were doing? In any case we find thereafter, especially in the French tradition, an ongoing link between sectors and perspective (e.g. Bosse, Huret, Chales, Lambert). There was also a religious and magical context to these studies. As early as the 1450's, Giovanni Fontana, a student of optics and author of what may have been the first treatise on perspective, had used his knowledge in these fields to project images of devils onto the walls of buildings presumably to demonstrate that effects claimed to be supernatural by followers of black magic could be accounted for by purely natural causes. In the sixteenth century, Giovanni Battista della Porta, working in the tradition of artist-engineers, pursued this approach to natural magic.

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Meanwhile, Fontana's contemporary, Taccola had explored other aspects of these natural wonders, particularly those involving hydraulics. Francesco di Giorgio Martini and Leonardo developed these demonstrations and the latter's sojourn in France probably explains the particular attention given this topic in the second half of the sixteenth century by Abel Foullon, Jacques Besson and Agostino Ramelli. In the seventeenth century, Salomon de Caus, developing techniques introduced by the Florentine, Buontalenti, effectively combined these two traditions of natural magic and hydraulics in creating his remarkable mechanical automats in grottoes with fountains and optical effects (pl. 98.1). If we, in retrospect, are tempted to dismiss such projects as superficial examples of baroque playfulness, it is instructive to recall that when Descartes, in his Treatise on man, was trying to establish the credibility of his mechanistic model of the nervous system he appealed to "those hydraulically controlled puppets and mechanical statues found in the grottoes and fountains in the gardens of our kings".31 In this context, Baltrusaitis (1956) concerns with both automats and perspective,32 take on greater importance, as does his quote from Jean Franois Niron, where he cites both automats and perspective as instances of natural magic, adding "the true magic or perfection of the sciences consists of perspective which makes us understand and discern more perfectly the beautiful works of nature and art."33 The small circle of thinkers in the 1630's, who were concerned with automats and used mechanical sectors to demonstrate principles of perspective by means of conic sections, were therefore more than the forerunners of Popular Mechanics. They were stimulating Descartes to articulate a new mechanistic model of reality (cf. below 2.1). Of course, other mechanical devices such as clocks,34 were also important in this context. Not all the reactions were so profound. Melchior Tavernier, in a book now lost (1639), sought to popularize these ideas, an aim that was taken up in an anonymous three volume work by Jean Dubreuil entitled, Practical perspective (1642-1649), which emphasized the recreational value of these anamorphic demonstrations, and at the same time misrepresented Girard Desargues' original ideas. Desargues and Dubreuil exchanged pamphlets filled with diatribe. Others followed between Desargues and Curabelle. Subsequently Abraham Bosse, first professor of the Royal Academy and a friend of both Poussin and Desargues, continued the debates on Desargues' behalf, and as mentioned earlier (pp. ) brought into focus the dichotomy between projection planes of linear perspective, based on geometry, and the visual angles principles of Euclid's optics. This inspired the further opposition of Jean Le Brun and more writings against him by Jean Le Bicheur and Grgoire Huret, leading eventually to Bosse's expulsion as the academy's professor of perspective. And ironically, Dubreuil's text, with its various faults, went on to become one of the most popular texts with nine issues by the end of the century and another dozen in the eighteenth century, including translations into English and German. Dubreuil was a Jesuit. So

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too were Leurechon (1630), Nicron (1638, 1646, 1651, 1652, 1663, 1669, 1673) and Derand (1643). Their wish to popularize perspective was guided by a desire to stress its moral and didactic potentials. Others were more concerned with popularization for its own sake. Le Clerc's work, for instance, went through five editions in the seventeenth (1679, 1682, 1690, 1691, 1694) and at least seven in the eighteenth century (1712, 1716, 1719, 1744, 1754, 1764, 1774). Even more popular was Ozanam with seven editions before 1700 (1684, 1689, 1693, 1694, 1696, 1697, 1699) and fourteen more in the century that followed (1711, 1720, 1734, 1724, 1725, 1735, 1741, 1749, 1750, 1769, 1770, 1778, 1781, 1790). The eighteenth century again brought a few reprints of Renaissance classics, notably Leonardo (1716), Serlio (1745), Barozzi (1786) and Cousin, le jeune (1750) and a number of new works relating to architecture. Chief among these were Bretez (1706, 1746, 1751), Courtonne (1725), Jeaurat (1750) and Roy (1756, 1757). New books specifically devoted to perspective were few: e.g. Lamy (1701), Saurin (1720), Lanselles (1767), Saint Morien (1779, 1788) and Sabro (1790). There were also three new trends. One was the publication in Paris of contemporary foreign works including Wolff (1747), Galli da Bibiena (174 ), Palomino (1749), Gravesande (1755), Muller (1760), Piranesi (1762), Mengs (1788) and Lairesse (1787). A second trend was an increasing emphasis on conic sections with authors such as La Hire (1701, 1757, 1776), L'Hpital (1707, 1720, 1776), Chapelle (1750), Gallimard (1752), Mauduit (1757, 1761), Rivard (1757), Mazens (1758, 1761, 1765, 1768, 1774, 1775, 1777) and Muller (1760). A third trend linked mathematics, engineering and perspective through Bouchotte (1721, 1722, 1743, 1754, 1755), Dupain de Montesson (1750, 1760, 1763, 1774, 1775, 1786, 1789, 1792) and Monge (1785, 1795, 1798, 1799). During the eighteenth century Paris, with 144 books, had fallen behind London as the leading centre of publication. In the nineteenth century, with 528 publications, Paris once more took the lead as chief centre. In some respects the patterns of the eighteenth century were maintained. There was no dramatic change in the reprints of Renaissance authors: Alberti, Androuet, Barozzi, Leonardo and Plerin. The number of editions of contemporary foreign authors remained almost constant although most of the names changed: Piranesi (1804), Smith (1824, 1843), Amici (1823), Burnet (1835), Hughes (1864), Helmholtz (1870), Brucke (1878, 1881, 1885) and Salmon (1870). With respect to architecture and perspective, four authors dominated the scene, each of whom went through a number of editions: Lagardette, Normand, Robinet and Etex. In terms of mechanical drawing and perspective, there were a series of works on new instruments, among them, Phlippeaux, Burnier, Jump, Mauduit, Le Blanc and Petit. Other factors led Paris to be the most prolific centre of publication in this field during the nineteenth century. Chief amongst these was the link with descriptive geometry, forged by Monge in the latter eighteenth century, which was spread by further editions of his work (1811, 1820, 1827, 1838, 1847), and a series of followers notably Hachette (1815, 1817, 1818, 1822, 1828), Olivier (1831, 1837,

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1839, 1840, etc.), Lefebure (1834, 1837, 1842, 1847, 1864, 1870), Leroy (1834, 1837, 1842, 1846, 1850, 1851, 1855, 1859, 1862, 35c.), and Dufailly (1869, 1873, 1875, 1878, 1880, 1882, 1884, 1886, 1892, 1894). Some individuals, such as La Gournerie, wrote important works on both descriptive geometry (1851, 1853, 1855, 1860) and perspective (1859, 1884, 1898). Pillet was another, who wrote on both descriptive geometry (1876, 1887, 19291), and perspective (1885, 1886, 1888, 1901, 1921, 1953). Meanwhile, another strand, through Poncelet (1822, 1863) and his followers explored an alternative using projective geometry. In terms of artistic perspective, there were a number of popular authors including Adhmar, Bouillon, Delaistre, Jaunez-Spauville, Cassagne and Henriet. But the most significant single development in nineteenth century Paris was a new link between drawing (dessin) and perspective which included authors such as Boniface (1823, 1832, 1847), Choquet (1823, 1832, 1847), Francoeur (1827), Paillot de Montabert (1832), Thibault (1837), Trlis (1840), Daix (1842), Lahure (1847), Rouillet (1857, 1863), Grimblot (1869, 1877), Bracquemond (1885), Valtron (1888), Watelet (1893) and Forel (1893). Among the most popular authors were Henry des Vosges, who went through twelve editions and Lamotte, who went through fourteen editions. Underlying this development were basic issues concerning the role of perspective in education, inspired by philosophers such as Locke and Rousseau (see below 1.4). The combined result of these developments was to convince thinkers that descriptive geometry, and the principles of perspective, must (somehow) correspond to both objective reality and the laws of vision. Valle played a considerable role in establishing these suppositions, and accordingly, the second half of the century saw a series of works relating perspective to sight (e.g. Malaval), or to observation (e.g., Babinet, Devinat, Watelet), a theme which continued into the twentieth century (e.g. Bocquillon, Legrand), although new evidence concerning discrepancies between vision and representation had arisen in the meantime (see pp. ). In addition, there were a number of works devoted to specialized topics including carpentry (Biston), colour (Roux de Valdonne), landscape (Robert, DemarquetCrauk), photography (Colson) and even war (Philebert) and many works by minor authors. Although the twentieth century has seen 160 further publications, few of these have been innovative. Indeed, in the first decade, many were simply reprints of nineteenth century authors including Breithof, Cassagne, Delaistre, DemarquetCrauk, Laurent, Lebon, Olagnon, Pillet, Planat, Robert and Tubeuf. Cloquet was one of the few new works to go through several editions (1905, 1912, 1913, 1919, 1927). The period 1910-1960 marked a definite slump, with only a handful of authors rising to prominence, namely: Grosclaude (1919, 1946, 1947), Boll (1921, 1932, 1934), Boucher (1921, 1931, 1934), Gromort (1932, 1945, 1944, 1953) and Olmer (1932, 1943). In the period since 1960, three popularizing authors have

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dominated the scene: Parrens, Raynaud and Bonbon, their work being almost simplistic when compared to nineteenth century classics such as La Gournerie. The period since 1960, has also seen a revival of interest in Renaissance texts, with reprints of Androuet du Cerceau, Bracelli, Drer, Jamnitzer and Vredeman de Vries. New trends in recent literature include attention to spherical perspective (Barre et Flocon, cf. pp. ), and the use of models and photography in architectural design (Jantzen). In the context of France as a whole, it is striking to note how completely Paris has dominated the scene. Indeed, there are only four other cities worthy of mention: Orlans, Lyon, Rouen and Strasbourg. Orlans had a brief period of importance in the sixteenth century through publications by Androuet Du Cerceau, before he moved to Paris. Lyon, in the sixteenth century produced no original works of its own, but saw the publication of Ringelbergius (1556) and Porta (1571, 1579, 1591), with its description of the camera obscura in respect to painting. The seventeenth century brought three French authors (Binet, Cousin and Chales), and three foreign ones (Caramuel de Lobkowicz, Fabri, Porta). The next century brought one important work in instruments by Grollier de Servire (1719), and a French edition of Brook Taylor (1758). The nineteenth century saw only minor works by Girardon (1850, 1859) and Fournet (1859). In Rouen, by contrast, almost all the activity was limited to the seventeenth century with ten editions of Binet, and seven of Porta, with only one minor work by Trnard (1913) in our century. The fourth city, Strasbourg, has felt the influence of Germany more than France. During the sixteenth century there were pirate editions of Plerin (1508, 512, 1515) and treatises by Specklin (1589) and Dietterlin (1593). A reprint of Specklin (1608) was the only contribution of the next century. The eighteenth century brought Herttenstein (1736, 1737), Frzier's classic work on stereotomy (1737) and a treatise by Curel (1766). The nineteenth century added a technical work by Rtz (1879, 1883, 1894) and a reprint of Piero (1899). The twentieth century brought a reprint of Drer (1905), and treatises by Adam-Leonard (1905) and Opitz (1907). Of all these publications outside of Paris, only Frzier's was of fundamental importance, and its conclusions were soon integrated within the Parisian mainstream by thinkers such as Monge. So, in a very real sense, there was only one centre in France. In countries such as the Lowlands and Germany the situation was very different. BELGIUM We have already noted that a fascination with pseudo-perspectival space developed in Flanders in the early fifteenth century at the same time that Brunelleschi and Alberti were exploring the principles of perspective in Florence (pl. 8-11). No evidence has been found to confirm a claim (Fielding 1835), that Jan van Eyck also wrote a treatise on the subject. Instead, it is now generally accepted35 that Petrus Christus brought the principles of perspective to the Lowlands around 1457, probably after a journey to Italy, where he may well have

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learned them from Antonello da Messina. Over seventy years passed before there were publications in Antwerp. By the early seventeenth century some works also appeared in Brussels, but by then activities had shifted northward with Amsterdam as a new centre, and with Arnhem, the Hague and Leiden as satellites. Each of these will be considered in turn. Antwerp The first publications were foreign books: Gauricus (1528) and Pieter Coecke van Aelst's translations of Serlio (1539, 1542, 1545, 1549, 1550, 1553). Coecke, who was also a translator of Vitruvius, became the teacher of both the painter, Pieter Breughel, the Elder and Hieronymus Cock, who became an artist, engraver and publisher. By the 1550's, Cock's publishing house, At the four winds, played an important role in the spread of perspectival texts: his own Roman views, those of Gerard de Jode and, a decade later, those of Jan Vredeman de Vries--a series of picture books, usually with about twenty perspectival views each of fountains, gardens, tombs, ruins and idealized architectural scenes. When Philippe Galle took over Cock's press there were reissues, frequently with new plates of the perspectival views, of Cock, Jan Vredeman de Vries and his son Paul. Philippe Galle's son, Theodore, continued in his footsteps for another ANTWERP Martin Heemskerck Serlio Vitruvius Peter Fltner Hans Blum Pieter Coecke van Aelst

G. Ghisi

Pieter Breughel the Elder

Hieronymus Cock Hendrick III Cleve

Gerard de Jode

Philippe Galle Theodore Galle

Jan Vredeman de Vries

Paul Vredeman de Vries

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Hendrik Hondius, II

Samuel Marolois

Joseph Moxon Fig. 24. Authors and publishers on perspective in Antwerp (1450-1600). generation (fig. 24). In all some 30 publications of Vredeman de Vries appeared before Janson began publishing his works in Arnhem and Amsterdam. In the seventeenth century this flurry of activity ended as suddenly as it had begun. Aside from reissues of Vredeman de Vries (1606,1673), Blum (1640), and Serlio (1653), there were only a handful of new publications: a collection of ruins and views by Nieulandt (1610, 1628), an optical treatise by Aguilonius (1613), a work on conic sections by Saint Vincent (1647) and a technical treatment of perspective by Tacquet (1669). The eighteenth century saw a reissue of Tacquet (1707), the nineteenth, a new work by Neetsonne (1883) and the twentieth, one by Farcy (1943). Meanwhile Brussels had acquired some significance. Brussels Hondius, one of the students of Vredeman de Vries, is said to have published the first edition of his work on perspective in Brussels (1617, cf. Amsterdam 1623). The latter seventeen century saw a work on military perspective in Spanish by Lepeda (1661). The eighteenth century brought only an edition of Pozzo (1708). The nineteenth century brought sixteen publications: a popular textbook by Smachtens (1820, 1825, 1827); treatises by Brisson (1827), the editor of Monge, and three other mathematicians: Leroy (1837), Charles (1839, 1870) and Schmidt (1869), as well as minor works by Bossuet, Gratry, Mols, Morena and Pierre. Since nineteen hundred there have been six publications of which perhaps only Barre's (1904) discussion of alternative methods of perspective bears mention. THE NETHERLANDS Amsterdam

Aside from ancient texts such as Euclid and Ptolemy, the first perspectival treatise published in Amsterdam was a translation of Blum (1598, 1612, 1619, 1623, 1647). Italian authors published in the first half of the seventeenth century included Serlio (1606, 1616), Alberti (1649) and Gauricus (1649). Of German authors, there was only Jamnitzer (1608, 1618, 1626), who appeared in three anonymous pirate editions. In the latter seventeenth century there were editions of three French authors, Desargues (1686), Ozanam (1683, 1693, 1698) and Le Clerc (1692), as well as one English author, Wren (1671).

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As of 1550, Jan Vredeman de Vries had published a series of perspectival views in Antwerp. In 1604, together with his student, Hendrik II Hondius, he issued a more ambitious work with some mention of theoretical principles. This appeared in Leiden. In the next decade, Marolois, another student of Vredeman de Vries, developed a lengthy theoretical section to which he added engravings by Jan and Paul Vredeman de Vries, Hendrik II Hondius, and Pieter Stevens. This work in turn formed part of a massive tome in four sections dealing with geometry, perspective, architecture and fortification respectively, which had its first edition in Leiden (1614) and subsequent editions mainly in Amsterdam. For a generation this remained a standard work appearing in Latin, French, Dutch and German, sometimes complete, frequently in combinations or abridged versions. In the mathematical realm, van Schooten's (1659, 1660) treatise on conic sections was the only noteworthy publication in Amsterdam during the seventeenth century. In terms of artistic perspective there were texts by Bosboom (1686) and Hartsoeker (1699), and more general treatises by van de Passe (1643, 1644, 1664), de Graaf (1662, 1679) and de Bisschop (1670). Towards the end of the century there appeared also Lairesse (1694, 1695) who became popular in the next century (1701, 1706, 1707, 1712, 1713, 1719, 1727, 1729, 1766). Foreign publications in Amsterdam during the eighteenth century were limited to Ozanam, Lamy, Le Clerc and a translation of Brook Taylor. There were further editions of Bosboom, Graaf and Hondius. New works ranged from minor texts by Schenk (1705) and Ypey (1764), to significant contributions by Houten (1705), Vlaming (1773) and Gravesande (1774). By far the most influential eighteenth century author was Philips Jacobszoon, with a series of publications (1765, 1767, 1775, 1780, 1781, 1785, 1786, 1788, 1803, 1823, 1827), notable for his use of mirrors and other instruments in connection with perspective. In the seventeenth century, 114 books were published in Amsterdam. In the eighteenth, there were 38, and in the nineteenth this dropped to 26, of which only two were translations of foreign works: Lagardette (1833) and Thnot (1859). Most were single publications of local interest including Apol, Bes, Bilderdijk, Bing, Campen, Ferrers, Groenevelt Meerwaldt, Rinkes and Schoone. The one dramatic exception was Versluys, whose textbooks for schools went through a series of editions (1881, 1884, 1887, 1889, 1890, 1891, 1896). The twentieth century has seen at least 35 further publications, the majority of which were again of local interest only, including Albert, Hana, Kumminga, Muyak, Mayens and Ozinga. Only two authors have enjoyed more than one edition, namely, Mialaret (1910, 1922) and Arendzen (1934, 1942, 1950). There was also one translation from the German, Stark (1930). Arnhem and the Hague Intimately connected with publications in Amsterdam in the early seventeenth century, were two other cities: Arnhem and the Hague, due to Jan Jansson's publishing firm. In Arnhem, he published Drer (1603, 1605, 1613, 1614, 1617),

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Ptolemy (1617) and Marolois (1621). Since that time, Arnhem has seen only one further treatise by Graaf Hermanszoon (1870). Meanwhile, as mentioned above, Jansson had published a first edition of Marolois (1614) in the Hague. He also published Hondius, but in the 1620's the firm's activities were centred increasingly in Amsterdam. Thereafter, the Hague saw only sporadic publications. In the latter seventeenth century, Rohault (1690) and Ozanam (1691) were published there. The eighteenth century brought an important work by Gravesande (1711, 1771), a treatise by Eckhardt (1778), and an edition of Pascal's Conics (1779). The nineteenth century brought a translation of Lagardette (1821), an anonymous text (1846), and one by a local author, Aken (1891). The twentieth century has added works by three new authors, Sakkers, Schmidt and Woude, but little innovation. Leiden During the sixteenth century, the only work connected with perspective published in Leiden was Porta (1561, 1569), further editions of which appeared in the next century (1644, 1651, 1657). At the turn of the seventeenth century, the Hondius family published Vredeman de Vries (1604-1605, cf. 1664) in Leiden, thus involving that city in a nexus of relations with Amsterdam, Arnhem and the Hague. On the mathematical side, Leiden saw an edition of Stevin's (1634) important work, editions of Van Schooten (1646, 1656, 1657) on conic sections and Huygen's (1690) Treatise on light. Foreign publications included the Jesuit, Milliet de Chales' (1674) compendium. The eighteenth century brought only new editions of Gauricus (1701, 1732), while the nineteenth century added a half dozen authors of books on artistic perspective: Brag, Bregmann, Campen, FokkeSimonszoon, Richard and Schaap, and a manuscript by Humbert de Superville (1830). The twentieth century has seen a new edition of Ptolemy (1932). Other Netherlandish Cities Three other cities in the Netherlands, which have emerged in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries deserve brief mention: Groningen, Tiel and Deventer. In Groningen, the earliest text on perspective dates back to Frederik (1853, 1935). The decades that followed saw four authors of local interest: Berghuis, Gravelaar, Groneman and Soeren. The two popular authors, Versluys (1877, 1887, 1924) and Bes (1890, 1893, 1900, 1901, 1903) were also published in Amsterdam. The twentieth century has added ten further authors including Alders, Gestel, Jansen, Luinge, Nuyens, Steenderen and Wijdens, who have added nothing fundamental. In the nineteenth century, Tiel produced one textbook for schools by Berghuis, which went through at least six editions (1887, 1891, 1894, 1898, 1902, 1907). The twentieth century has brought Jansma's introduction to conic sections which went through eight editions and textbooks by de Vries de Hecklingen (1908), who published other works in Zwolle, Goslinski (1911, 1930) and Scholten (1915). Deventer is of interest mainly due to one individual active in the early twentieth century, namely, Ridderhof, whose textbook on perspective went through eight

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editions (e.g. 1906, 1949) and who also wrote on parallel perspective and perspective sketching for schools. Texts by Wijdens (1904), Reynders (1945, 1951) and Twijnstra (1948) were also published there. GERMANY Drer's famous comment, in his letter to Pirckheimer in 1504, that he was hoping to learn the secret of perspective,36 reminds us that perspective reached Germany later than either France or the Lowlands. And unlike France, where everything was centralized, developments in Germany were scattered throughout a number of cities. The earliest of these was Nrnberg, which had a seminal influence on Augsburg and Frankfurt. Cologne developed separately. The seventeenth century saw publications in a few more cities: Hamburg, Stuttgart, Hanover, Freiburg and Munich. The eighteenth century added Berlin, Gttingen and Karlsruhe, followed by Braunschweig, Darmstadt and Wiesbaden in the nineteenth century. Meanwhile, in East Germany, only one real centre emerged at Leipzig, although some works were published at Weimar. Each of these will be considered in turn. Nrnberg Nrnberg was an important trade centre already in mediaeval times. Because it was the leading European city for the production of mathematical instruments (cf. fig. 41), Regiomontanus moved there in the 1470's to pursue his own scientific interests, and to become the world's first publisher specializing in scientific texts. Martin Behaim produced one of the first globes there in 1492. This context accounts for both the fascination with perspectival instruments, which developed later in the century, and the appearance of scientific and mathematical texts, including Ptolemy's Geography (1514), Werner's work on conic sections (1522), Witelo's great optical treatise edited by Apianus (1535), and Peckham's Common perspective (1542). On his second Italian journey, Drer may have obtained a manuscript copy of Alberti's On painting, (possibly the one now in the Bavarian state library?), which could have served as the basis for the alledged 1511 edition (mentioned in earlier bibliographies). But all this is conjecture. The first published text was Drer's Instruction in measurement (1525) with fourteen pages devoted to the topic. In 1531, the author of A beautiful, useful booklet, set out to write a more popular book with numerous perspectival illustrations, including church interiors (pl. 16.4), building construction scenes (pl. 60.3-4) and even demonstrated the use of the perspective window in drawing landscapes (cf. pl. 58.1-2). In the full title of the treatise we read that it is about the art of measurement called perspectiva in Latin.37 Here the link between perspective and measurement was unequivocal. This treatise, edited by Drer's student, Hieronymus Rodler, combined serious theoretical discussion and picture-book type practical example in a new way. John Dee made a partial manuscript copy of the work (now British Library Cotton

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Vitellius VII). Augustin Hirschvogel pursued this approach, explicitly setting out to relate theoretical geometry with practical perspective in a work fittingly entitled: Geometry. The book geometry is my name. Originally all liberal art from me came. I bring architecture and perspective together. Hirschvogel also wrote an unpublished treatise on surveying (now Vienna, Stadtmuseum). Drer had entitled his book Instruction in measurement...with the compass and ruler (1525), and had emphasized the general problem of practical geogetry. Heinrich Lautensack's text (1564) echoed Drer's title, adding also of perspective. Following a brief introduction on geometry, Lautensack focussed on theoretical and practical aspects of perspective, including anatomical proportion and symmetry, themes which had been explored independently by two of Durer's other students: Hans Beham and Erhard Schn. Meanwhile, Hans Lencker and Wenzel Jamnitzer had developed a great interest in the perspectival representation of regular and semi-regular solids (pl. 36.3-37.1). Did they perhaps see therein shapes into which to cut their jewels? They also improved upon the mechanical aids for perspective, which Drer had developed. When Pierre de La Rame and Frederick Risner from Paris, visited them in 1568, they were so impressed by their work that they persuaded Jamnitzer and Lencker to publish.38 The next significant publication was a little known treatise by Paul Pfintzing (1599), originally intended for private distribution among friends. Conscious of the continuity within the Nrnberg tradition (fig.40), Pfintzing traced the development of mechanical devices from Drer and the anonymous author of A beautiful useful booklet, through Lautensack, Lencker (pl. 54.2), Jamnitzer (pl. 54.4), and the otherwise obscure Hans Haiden (1590), (pl. 54.5). Pfintzing was also aware of both traditional authorities in optics: Euclid, Alhazen and Witelo, as well as foreign authors on perspective, including, Luca Pacioli, Androuet du Cerceau and Lorenzo Sirigatti. This awareness of the cumulative nature of knowledge was even more manifest in Levinus Hulsius' four treatises on mathematical instruments (1603-1605), which included mechanical aids for perspective, a description of Jost Brgi's proportional compass and a similar device (by Michel Coignet) from Belgium. By way of introduction, he provided one of the earliest bibliographies containing dates of publication of the books consulted. The list included works from Germany, France, Italy and the Netherlands (fig.42). The same Hulsius also studied with Galileo in Padua, and subsequently published a first Latin translation (1612) of Galileo's Geometrical and military compass (1606). Hulsius also worked with Jobst Brgi's brother in law, Benjamin Bramer, active in the construction of the compass, sector and perspectival aids. An unexpected pattern thus emerges. The key centres for scientific instruments were also important in the development of perspective: Padua, Florence, Nrnberg,

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Antwerp and later Paris and London. Moreover, the key figures were often directly in touch with one another or at least indirectly influenced by one another. A more systematic approach to studying the world scientifically brought with it a more systematic network of contacts and a greater awareness of the cumulative effect of knowledge (see below 2.1). Meanwhile there had also been publications of foreign authors of perspective in Nrnberg beginning with Gauricus (1542). Of considerable importance was a compendium by Walther Ryff which provided partial translations of Alberti, Gauricus and Serlio (1547, 1558)--a third edition of which later appeared in Basel (1582). The seventeenth century saw new editions of Pfintzing, Dietterlin and Porta; treatises by Krammer (16--) and Brunn (1614), Schwenter's work on perspectival instruments (1616) and his compendium of basic principles (1651). Most popular were two treatises by Albrecht, which may have gone through as many as nine issues (e.g. 1620, 1671, 1677). Erasmus (1667, 1672, 1687), not the humanist, edited an updated version of Blum's work on the five columns, while the famous antiquarian, Sandrart, reported briefly on Italian developments in perspective in his German Academy (1675). In terms of foreign literature published in Nrnberg in the seventeenth century, Daniel Schwenter edited a German translation of Raverta's treatise on surveying and perspective (1627, cf. 1602). There were two editions of Falda (1685, 1695) and a translation of Desargues (1692). The eighteenth century saw translations of two Dutch authors, Witgeest (1702) and Lairesse (1727, 1728, 1780) and two French ones, Dupain de Montesson (1759, 1762, 1790) and Bosse (1767). Among the German authors, there were Zahn (1702), of interest concerning camera obscuras and other instruments, Sturm (1704, 1714), who wrote a handy compendium; Pressler (1774), important for his theories of drawing and Mayer (1785). The one major new author was Schubler (1719, 1732, 1734, 1735, 1749, 1758, 1763). The nineteenth century saw only one translation from the French: an important book on drawing theory by Thibault (1833, 1834, 1841). German authors included Heidelhoff (e.g. 1827, 1892), whose work on shadow construction for architects went through five editions; Eberlein (1859, 1876, 1878), Gugler, Klingenfeld and Wenz. The twentieth century has brought only two textbooks by Frst (1908) and Pechwitz (1950). Augsburg In Augsburg, the first publication was a collection of examples for use in marquetry by Stoer (1567, cf. 1617), of particular interest because the motifs therein appear to have inspired some of the woodwork at the Escorial done that very year.39 Like Nrnberg, Augsburg was famous for its instrument makers,40-notably Christoph Schissler and his son41--, which helps to explain a trend in Augsburg during the early seventeenth century to reprint Nrnberg authors who

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emphasized the use of instruments in perspective, namely, Lencker (1615, 1617), Lautensack (1616), and Pfintzing (1617). The two new works published in Augsburg at the time also mentioned the use of instruments, although Halt (1625) was mainly concerned with polyhedra, while Furttenbach (1640) focussed on perspective as applied to scenography. The eighteenth century saw a small number of significant publications. Three were translation of foreign authors: Dubreuil (1710), Le Clerc (1756) and Pozzo (e.g. 1706, 1800), who went through seven issues. With respect to artistic perspective, Heinecken produced an influential textbook with examples showing church interiors, landscapes and other complex perspectival scenes (1727, 1732, 1743, 1753). On the mathematical and technical side, there were important publications by Lambert (1760, 1768, 1770, 1772) and Brander (1764, 1767, 1769, 1771), which contained new combinations of camera obscuras with surveying instruments, telescopes and microscopes. Augsburg's only contributions to the field since have been two treatises by Voch (1780, 1817). Frankfurt As an important publishing centre, Frankfurt served mainly to make known work done elsewhere. The first treatise on perspective published there, attributed to Rodler (1546), had appeared earlier in Simmeren. The next works were by N rnberg artists: Beham (1552), 1557, 1587, 1594) and Lautensack (1564, 1565, 1567). There followed Italian authors, Serlio and Porta, and the Frenchman, Boissard (1597, 1603). The seventeenth century saw further works by foreign authors: two French, Perret (1602) and De Caus (1516); two English, Roger Bacon's work on optics entitled, Perspective (1614), and Fludd (1624), and later the Italian, Serlio (1672). German works included an alledged edition of Krammer (1600), editions by the Nrnberg artists Beham (1605) and Lautensack (1618); technical treatises on perspectival instruments by Hulsius (1603, 1605, 1615) and Faulhaber (1610); an encyclopaedic treatment by Schott (1677) and a further discussion of instruments, particularly camera obscuras by Zahn (1686). The eighteenth century brought compendia by Sturm (1710) and Wolff (1725, 1750, 1775) and a French treatise by Curel (1768). As in Nrnberg, the nineteenth century brought translations of Thibault's theories of drawing (1800, 1835, 1840). It also brought an anonymous work in drawing and perspective translated by Becker (1815, 1817, 1818) and a text by Ritter (1884). The twentieth century added reprints of Bacon, Jamnitzer, Lencker and Schn as well as two new authors: Eith (1940) and Meyers (1951). Cologne Not unlike Frankfurt, but on a smaller scale, Cologne was mainly important for what it published from elsewhere, rather than for its original contributions. Indeed in the sixteenth century it produced only foreign works relating to perspective

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including Porta (1562, 1563), Peckham's (1580, 1592) optical textbook, Guidobaldo del Monte's (1581) work on the planisphere and Ptolemy's Geography (1584, 1597). This pattern continued in the seventeenth century, with new editions of Ptolemy and Peckham, the Swiss, Blum (1600), the Dutch, Vredeman de Vries (1615, 1655) and the Italian, Bettini (1642). German authors included Krammer (1611) and Kaessmann (1630), based on Blum. Since then there have only been two minor works by Janke (1900) and Boehmler (1969) and a reprint of Ens (1951). A different pattern prevailed in the cities which began publishing works on perspective in the seventeenth century (Hamburg, Stuttgart, Hanover, Freiburg and Munich). Although they frequently began with foreign works, they soon relied almost entirely on local authors. Hamburg In the seventeenth century, Hamburg saw only an edition of the optical treatise by Heliodorus of Larissa (1610). The eighteenth century brought works on perspectival instruments by Norberg (1762) and Steinholz (1775) and the nineteenth century brought another by Stuhlmann (1869, 1974, 1876, cf. 1914) as well as a text on descriptive geometry by Schlotke (1867) and optical treatises by the famous physiologist Helmholtz. Apart from one further treatise on perspectival aids, Peter (1911), the twentieth century has brought only textbooks of local interest by Beimfhr, Heinsohn, Krger, Reichelt, Schaub and Vorwerk. Stuttgart In Stuttgart there has been a consistent emphasis on the mathematical and technical side of perspective. The earliest publication was a new edition of Hirschvogel (1611 cf. 1543). Over two hundred years passed before publication resumed with a translation of Lamotte (1835), on linear drawing. There followed translations of Leroy's influential texts on stereotomy (1846, 1850, 1861, 1876, 1883) and descriptive geometry (1853, 1873), as well as Green's (1892) textbook, which had gone through fourteen editions in England. In terms of German authors, there were mathematical works on conic sections by Riecke (1842) and Zech (1857); on descriptive geometry by Gugler (1844, 1851, 1874, 1875) and Riess (1871); geometrical drawing by Vogel (1874) and Mller (1891); projective drawing by Kleiber (1888) and Vonderlinn (1888, 1889, 1892, 1893) as well as Bckler's popular treatise on construction drawing (1866, 1876, 1878, 1886). With respect to textbooks on artistic perspective there were Vollweider (1862), Niemann (1882, 1902, 1907), Steindorff (1884), Conz (1882, 1902, 1909, 1920) and Sllner (1891). There were at least 52 books published on the subject in the nineteenth century, and 41 in the twentieth including Bernhard's popular text on descriptive geometry (1901, 1904, 1909, 1920, 1923). In 1934 there was a debate concerning the role of perspective in art education between Gahlbeck and Klauss. The most significant

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development has, however, been with respect to architecture. Reile (1922, 1923, 1941, 1949, 1951) developed a new device for architectural perspective, and more recently there have been several books on architectural drawing by Coulin (1966, with later English editions), Jacoby (1971, with later English and Japanese translations), Thomae (1976) and Prenzel (1978). Hanover The seventeenth century saw two editions of Porta (1619, 1644). The next publications in the second half of the nineteenth century were on mathematical perspective, Koutny (1868, 1869) and descriptive geometry, Gerke (1881, 1889), as well as one treatise on artistic perspective, Jantzen (1872). The twentieth century has seen a continued emphasis on the technical and mathematical side of perspective with works on isometrical drawing by Grimshaw (1902) and Vogel (1912); a text on descriptive geometry by Pohl (1951) and a popular work on architectural perspective by Dahmlos (1966, 1970, 1977). There have also been texts on perspective drawing by Zehnder (1907), on perspective and shadow by Heubach (1908) and a reprint of the German translation of Dubreuil (1977 cf. 1710). Freiburg Publications in Freiburg followed a similar pattern. In the seventeenth century there was an edition of Scheiner (1621), of interest regarding camera obscuras, then nothing until the nineteenth century which was dominated by mathematical and technical texts including Ladomus (1812) on geometrical construction drawing, Weisbach (1857) on axonometrical perspective, and Flinch on geometrical perspective. More important was Delabar with no less than ten publications (from 1866 through 1893) relating to linear drawing, descriptive geometry, shades and shadows and parallel perspective. The twentieth century has seen only a work on perspectival instruments by Routschek (1963). Munich As might be expected, there was somewhat more variety in Munich, although the seventeenth century again saw only one technical work on telescopes by Hercynianus (1625)--included under perspective in some in some early bibliographies,--while the eighteenth century saw three further mathematical works: Karsten (1768, 1773) on spherical projections in astronomy, as well as Danzer (1780) and Rauch (1790) on conic sections. The nineteenth century brought Quaglio (1811, 1822, 1823) and Adamo (1899) on architectural perspective; Schrank (1812) on blue shadows, and three authors on linear drawing: Haindl (1835, 1843), Weishaupt, whose influential work went through at least nine issues between 1856 and 1882, and Edelmann (1871). In terms of textbooks on artistic perspective, there were Gottgetreu (1851), Seeberger, whose principles of perspective went through at least ten issues between 1860 and 1904, Kleiber

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(1885) and Lbenau (1898). The twentieth century has brought at least 29 further publications of which the most original is Klee's (1925) discussion of perspective with respect to modern art. Also worthy of mention are practical textbooks by Pabst (1918, 1921, 1922), Frstweger (1928) and Fischer (1937, 1943) plus a more recent work on technical drawing by Fustle (1969, 1971). Berlin In Berlin, the first publication was near the middle of the eighteenth century with Jgel (1744), who wrote on architectural perspective, followed by a general textbook, Segner (1799). However, mathematical texts predominated, including Lambert's (1776) article on aerial perspective, Lagrange (1781) on cartographical perspective, Hildebrandt (1783) on conic sections, Mnnich (1794) and Burja's (1795) textbook addressed specifically to the mathematical painter. The nineteenth century saw 101 further publications. Some ten authors wrote on artistic perspective, namely, Benteli, Berger, Eytelwein, Frangenheim, Gennerich, Kolbenheyer, Lobedan, Rtz, Schmid and Schreiber. There was some work on architectural drawing, Burg, Schmidt; perspective drawing, Francke, Schwedler and drawing generally, Meyer. But the emphasis continued to be on mathematical aspects of perspective, with seven authors on conic sections; Bauer, Grson, Hamilton, Martus, Pofelger, Schellbach and Schneider. There were works on descriptive geometry by Busch, Flohr, Ohm and Wolff (1835, 1840, 1847, 1861); on more general mathematical topics by Arndt, Caspary, Peschka, Ravoth, Rosanes and Steiner, on instruments by Brauer and Hauck,--also famous for his work on subjective curvatures and curvilinear perspective,--as well as on geometrical drawing by Burg, Heimpl, Hertzsprung and Hoffmann. In the twentieth century, there have again been works on artistic perspective by Doehlemann (1912, 1918, 1922), Freyberger (1913, 1918, 1923), Kurth and Tuckermann; reprints of classics including Chippendale, Ghiberti and Lambert; architectural perspective, Danielowski (1968, 1969, 1976, 1982) and gardening perspective, Wilczek (1929, 1941). But the earlier pattern continues and mathematical treatises dominate with writings on descriptive geometry, e.g. Fischer, Kramer, Ludwig (1919, 1922, 1924); Rehbock (1957, 1964, 1969), Scheffers (1919, 1920, 1922, 1927) and Schmid (1912, 1919, 1922); projective geometry, Doehlemann (1924); instruments including Brauer, Edler, Griesinger, Haeder, Traenkle, and geometrical perspective, e.g. Rehbock (1978, 1979, 1980). In addition to linear perspective there has been work on cartographic perspective, Greef (1922), Sievke (1934); axonometric perspective, Papperitz (1916); parallel perspective, Vonderlinn (1914, 1920, 1925) and Meyer Sidd (1970), as well as spherical perspective, Birken (1923) and Barre (1963).

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Other West German Cities Since 1700 In the eighteenth century, there were two further cities with publications on perspective, Gttingen and Karlsruhe, and since the nineteenth century three further cities have emerged, namely, Braunschweig, Darmstadt and Wiesbaden. Here too mathematical and technical aspects of perspective were predominant, as will become clear as each is considered in turn. Gttingen In the eighteenth century, publications at Gttingen included a work on scenography, Meister (1753), a treatise on conic sections, Hube (1759), and a reprint of Werner's important work on drawing with geometry and perspective (1796). The chief author at the time, however, was Kstner whose interests ranged from conic sections to mathematical perspective in general (1758, 1759, 1764, 1771, 1774, 1786, 1790, 1792, 1796, 1800). Since the eighteenth century there has only been a German translation of Fuller's Perspective to scale (1955, 1956, 1958, cf. 1952). Karlsruhe In the eighteenth century, there was an important work on conic sections by de la Chapelle (1770, 1771, 1791) followed by two others in the early nineteenth century, by Hofmann (1815) and Ladomus (1817). These were followed by publications by Schreiber on descriptive geometry, technical drawing and perspective (1822, 1828, 1833, 1839, 1854); by Doll (1867) on drawing and geometrical plans, and Riess (1872) on geometrical perspective. The twentieth century has seen a further textbook on descriptive geometry by Reutter (1948, 1958).

Braunschweig In Braunschweig, during the nineteenth century, there were works on conic sections by de la Chapelle (1801) and Beyssel (1862); construction drawing using parallel perspective, Mller (1865, 1874), freehand drawing, Frstenberg (1854, 1863); perspectival drawing, Klette (1867, 1869, 1870, 1873, 1887) and free perspective, Balmer-Rinck (1887). In addition there were at least two works specifically intended for artists by Frangenheim (1880) and Ehrhardt (1885, 1895). The twentieth century saw a new edition of Haeder's instrument (1949, cf. 1914) and a general textbook by Brtschi (1982).

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Darmstadt In the nineteenth century, Darmstadt saw a series on publications on descriptive geometry, geometrical drawing and technical drawing by Rssler (1839, 1845, 1847, 1852, 1853, 1861). The twentieth century added Getrost (1913) on free perspective for schools, and a dissertation by Stoll (1971) on projective geometry, as well as new editions of Vitruvius (1964, 1976). Wiesbaden Wiesbaden, also had some mathematical publications during the nineteenth century including Hildenbrand (1867) on conic sections; Gut (1888), and Bouffier (1893) with respect to perspectival shadows. There were also works on artistic perspective, namely, Eberhard (1824) and Bouffier (1892, 1905). In the twentieth century there was a greater emphasis on the technical side with works on perspectival instruments, Haeder (1914), Ranke (1955); engineering perspective, Ranke and Niebler (1956, 1957, 1960); parallel perspective, Schumacher (1951) and architectural perspective, Bonbon (1977), Knig (1978, 1979). There was also one popular textbook on artistic perspective, Schmidt (1972, 1976, 1978). EAST GERMANY Leipzig

In East Germany, Leipzig was slow in becoming a major publishing centre for perspective. During the sixteenth century, there was only an edition of Peckham's optical textbook (1504), and an alledged edition of Brunn (1595). The seventeenth century was almost as sparse, with optical treatises by Euclid (1607) and Kohlhans (1663, 1777). The eighteenth century brought fifteen books of which only two dealt with artistic perspective, namely, Lairesse (1745) and Horstig (1979). All the rest dealt with mathematical aspects including general principles, Kstner (1752), Schnberg (1770, 1771, 1773); map projection, Hasius (1717, 1719), Lambert (1763); instruments, Wilke (1772), Leupold (1774), Adams (1795) and encyclopaedic summaries, Adelung (1781), Karsten (1782). But it was only in the nineteenth century that Leipzig emerged as a major centre, with some 170 books in the field, of which no less than 43 were due to the emergence of Teubner, which published classics such as Euclid, Hero of Alexandria, Ptolemy, Proclus and Serenus as well as books in mathematics and science. These subjects dominated the field in Leipzig. There were some general works, including those of Beck, Bnau, Holzmller and Schubert. On conic sections there was little in the first half of the century other than Grunert (1824) and Jahn (1836), whose work had the remarkable title, Introduction to more than 50 million primarily new geometrical projections as a result of conic sections. But when Salmon's work was translated into German it went thorugh at least ten issues from 1860 to 1918, cf. 1848. Dietzel, a younger contemporary went through five editions from 1864 to 1902; Fiedler, went through four, while Erler went through

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eleven from 1877 to 1911. Other publications on conic sections appeared by Drach, Eckhardt, Meyer, Schrter and Zeuthen. With respect to descriptive geometry there were important texts by Stoevesandt (1869), Wiener (1884), Disteli (1888) and a new edition of Monge (1900). In terms of projective geometry there were contributions by Bnau, Hnkel, Hoch and Sturm. Cartographical projections were treated by Reusch (19881) and Wangerin (1884). Drawing books ranged from general works such as Ehrenberg (1868) to various kinds, including axonometric drawing, Mayer (1855), Schmidt (1859); cavalier drawing, Neigebaur (1836); construction drawing, Steiner (1861); geometrical drawing, Schmidt (1859) and technical drawing, Schmidt (1886). Versatile individuals such as Schreiber wrote on linear, projective and technical drawing as well as perspective, descriptive geometry and shadow projection. In terms of artistic perspective, three individuals dominated the field: Berger, who went through twelve editions from 1855 to 1898, Kleiber with six editions and Freyberger whose works went through six and four issues respectively. Fliesen's three textbooks went through two editions each. Other authors included Burmester, Gehler, Hetsch, Heyn, Krause and Morstadt. The twentieth century has brought two significant textbooks by Doehlemann (1916, 1928) and Baier (1955, 1957, 1957) and a half dozen more general works by Albert, Beuhne, Meise, Riegel, Schulze and Weiner. The most important contributions have again been in terms of mathematical and technical aspects. With respect to general theory, Von ttingen (1901, 1905, 1906, 1907), has made important contributions. In descriptive geometry the chief authors have been Mller, with five editions, and Papperitz, with three editions. Other authors included Geyger, Gercken, Hessenberg, Opitz, Salkowski, Schlotke and Timerding. In projective geometry there was Doehlemann (1898, 1901, 1905). With respect to shadow projection there was Vonderlinn (1904, 1904) who also wrote on parallel perspective (1905, 1910, 1914, 1920). With respect to drawing there were general works such as Ebner (1924), and specific studies in axonometric drawing, Papperitz (1906), Haase (1907); perspective drawing, with three significant authors, Grndling, Severin; Weishaupt, and projective drawing, Geissler (1911). Other East German Cities Four other East German cities deserve brief mention. Weimar, with 21 publications, was dominated by the works of four authors concerned mainly with perspective in relation to drawing: Hertel, Steiner, Thon, Weishaupt. Greifswald was essentially a one author town, responsible for the encyclopaedic works of Karsten. Halle played a similar role with respect to Wolff's compendia, while Dresden published mainly the works of Schlotke on descriptive geometry and perspective.

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SWITZERLAND

Basel

In Switzerland, there were three centres in Basel, Zrich and Geneva. In the sixteenth century, Basel's role lay in the dissemination of texts, rather than in original contributions. At the outset, there were classical texts, which the Renaissance associated with perspective, namely, Galen (1533), Ptolemy, in six editions, and Euclid (1537, 1546, 1558). Later, the chief mediaeval authors on optics, Alhazen and Witelo (1572), appeared there. In terms of artistic perspective, there were editions of Plerin (1535, 1583), the acknowledged first edition of Alberti (1540 cf. 1582, although there was alledged to have been an earlier 1511 edition in Nrnberg), Ringelbergius (1541), Serlio (1582) and Gauricus (1582). The seventeenth century brought only editions of Serlio (1608, 1609) and Meyer (1676); the eighteenth century, nothing, and the nineteenth century general textbooks, Merian (1832) and Balmer-Rinck (1884). The twentieth century has brought two new textbooks by Billeter (1904) and Artaria (1947). Zrich In the sixteenth century, Zrich had one significant author, Blum,--the so called Swiss Serlio--, whose works on ruins and the five orders of columns went through numerous editions. The eighteenth century brought a more original author, Lambert (1759, 1774, 1789), concerned mainly with the mathematical and technical side of perspective. Interest in this dimension dominated nineteenth century publications by Largiader (1858), Kronauer (1861), Geiser (1866), Graberg (1868), Ott (1868) and Mllinger (1882). The twentieth century brought a new interest in artistic perspective, with textbooks by Gull (1839, 1941), Brunschwiler (1941, 1958, cf. 1939), Artaria (1945), Meier (1945) and Schedegger (1963). Geneva Geneva's role was more restricted. In the eighteenth century publications were limited to a compendium by Wolff (1732, 1740, 1741, 1743, 1773, 1783). The nineteenth century brought a textbook by Prader (1897) and a new perspectival instrument, Ziegler (1889). The twentieth century has seen another instrument, Odier (1934); a textbook, Leone (1962) and reprints of earlier works: Gauricus (1969), Bosse (1973) and Valenciennes (1973). 3. GREATER EUROPE Adjacent to the half dozen core European countries discussed above, were a series of other countries: Spain, Portugal, Denmark, Sweden, Norway, Finland, Austria, Czechoslovakia, Poland, Roumania and Russia. Almost all of these were in some way directly affected by the Renaissance. Some even played a significant role in its development. In rare cases isolated books on perspective were published in the sixteenth or seventeenth centuries. And yet it was not until the eighteenth and

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usually only in the nineteenth or twentieth centuries that centres of publication emerged in these countries, as will become apparent as each is considered in turn. SPAIN Madrid

Spain has had three centres: Madrid, Barcelona and Valencia. During the sixteenth century Madrid saw only a translation of Euclid's Optics (1585) and in the seventeenth century, a general textbook, Hidalgo (1693). The eighteenth century saw editions of Renaissance treatises by Alberti (1784, cf. 1827) and Barozzi (1792) and texts on artistic perspective by Palomino de Castro y Velasco (1715, 1724, 1795, 1947), Tosca (1721) and Casanova (1794). This genre developed in the nineteenth century with authors such as Brambila (1817), Rodriguez (1834), Heraez de Perea (1875), Aranaz y Izaguirre (1891), Muoz Morillejo (1893) and Salvador y Rodrianez (1897, 1898). On the mathematical and technical side, there was a Spanish translation of Valle's (1838) Manual of the science of drawing; a work on descriptive geometry by Lavina Blasco (1859); on shades and shadows by Pereda y Lopez (1866) and on axonometry by Torroja y Caball (1879). The twentieth century brought further works on artistic perspective, a compendium by Muoz Morrilejo (1914, 1923), and texts by Arola y Sala (1920, 1921), Marin Magallon (1924), Martines Sanz (1936) and Iniguez (1962). But the mathematical and technical side has continued also, with texts on cavalier and axonometric perspective by Alonso Misol (1911), shades and shadows by Fernandez Casanova (1917) and Arola y Sala (1921). Since 1950 this dimension has dominated the scene, with texts on descriptive geometry, Soto Hidalgo (1960, 1967); cavalier and axonometric perspective, Cano de la Torre (1966, 1970) and Garcia Gutierrez (1978, 1979). There has also been a surprising amount of attention to alternative forms, namely, spherical perspective, Flocon (1966) and conic perspective, Adroer (1953), Sandoval Guerra (1967), Corbella Barrios (1968), Martinez la Madrid (1968) and Fuentes Alonso (1973, 1975). Barcelona In Barcelona, publications began much later, with only four textbooks on artistic perspective during the nineteenth century: Planella y Corominas (1840), Alsamora (1842) and Castelucho (1892, 1896) as well as one text on descriptive geometry, Cardona y Escarrabil (1896). Nevertheless, in the twentieth century, Barcelona became the leading centre in Spain, with 65 publications. Of these 15 were translations of Italian, German and English texts, namely, Claudi (1914, 1965, 1971), Raneletti (1921), Reile (1928, 1972), Gull (1948, 1965), Schaarwchter (1970, 1974), Norden (1954), Morehead (1956), Lawson (1959, 1975) and Brown (1982).

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There has been some attention to mathematical and technical aspects, namely, descriptive geometry, Ranelletti (1921); shades and shadows, Arola y Sala (1923) and Rovira y Rabassa (1956); and conic perspective, Robira y Rabassa (1910), and Perez Asensio (1964). Even so the major emphasis has been on artistic perspective including authors such as Calvo y Verdonces (1912, 1924), Salat y Ferrando (1919), Vidal y Vidal (1935), Anasagasti y Algan (1945), Daming (1954), Basilio Gomez (1961, 1964) and Mestres Cabanez (1964). Four authors have stood out in terms of popularity: an individual known only by his initials F. T. D. (1933, 1942, 1958, 1964, 1969, 1973); Freixas Arangaren (1944, 1960, 1968, 1978); Parramon Vilasalo (1966, 1972, 1974, 1977) and particularly Rovira Sumalla, whose text went through 12 editions between 1966 and 1977. Valencia In the sixteenth century, there was an early edition of Peckham's optical treatise, Common perspective (1504), in Valencia. The eighteenth century saw editions of Tosca's compendium (1707, 1712, 1757). The nineteenth century brought texts on descriptive geometry, Alix (1767) and artistic perspective, Salva (1880). The twentieth century has added works by Bonuet Minguet on different branches of perspective: axonometric (1944), conic (1968, 1979) as well as linear (1969). Conic perspective has also been treated by Grajales Carbonell (1977). DENMARK Copenhagen

In Scandinavia, publication has been centred in the capitals, quantity varying considerably with 38 books in Copenhagen, 61 in Stockholm, 2 in Oslo and 16 in Helsinki. In Copenhagen publications began near the mid-eighteenth century with Horrebow's (1748) text on conic sections. There followed a textbook on artistic perspective by Jardin (1758), a compendium by Kstner (1788) and a mathematical treatise by Krebs (1799). In the nineteenth century, the field was dominated by three individuals: Hetsch, who wrote textbooks on both geometrical drawing (1822, 1828, 1840, 1844), and perspective (1839, 1851, 1868, 1881); Eckersberg (1833, 1841, 1978) and Nielsen (1869, 1878, 1884, 1894, 1899, 1907), also famous as a pioneer in the history of perspective. Less prolific authors included Fabris (1860), Klein (1879), Kranys-Hansen (1879, 1880) and Blom (1899). On the mathematical and technical side there were Schjdte (1864), Seidelin (1890), Janniche (1891, 1897) and Christensen (1896) on stereometric drawing and Petersen (1897) on descriptive geometry. The twentieth century brought further works on this subject by Hjelmslev (1943) and Pihl (1955) as well as texts on artistic perspective by Riberholt (1956), Schiellerup (1964) and Baro (1979). SWEDEN Stockholm

Publications in Stockholm began just over a century later than in Copenhagen, with isolated works on geometrical drawing by Mandelgren (1849) and Hetsch

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(1852). Since the latter nineteenth century, the field has been dominated by a handful of individuals, the most influential of which was Henriques. His textbook on geometrical and projection drawing went through 24 editions between 1896 and 1953, while his textbook on perspective for technical schools went through six editions. Indeed, technical works have been predominant, notably, Segerborg, with six editions, Werner, with five and more recently, Lagerquist, with five. In terms of artistic perspective, the major author has been Johansson, whose textbook has enjoyed seven issues. NORWAY Oslo

Oslo's publications have been limited to a text on artistic perspective by Guldberg (1880), and a technical treatment by Bergh (1872), with an appendix on axonometric perspective. FINLAND Helsinki

During the nineteenth century there were only two general texts in Helsinki: Neovius (1869) and Nikkanen (1890). The twentieth century added 14 further publications of which a handful dealt with artistic perspective: Hetsch (1906), Nordstrm (1912), Stromberg (1912), Asp (1915) and Somerniemi (1955). Meanwhile, the two most influential authors, Nystrm (1943, 1944, 1947, 1948) and Kauppinen (1978, 1978), as well as Asp (1915), Leanto (1916) and Markeno (1975) wrote technical treatises. AUSTRIA Vienna

There was but one publication in Vienna during the sixteenth century, Has (1583), with seventy-five engravings of ceilings intended to be seen from below (disotto in su, quadratura), based on Italian models, with no explanatory text. The next publication, nearly a century and a half later, Fischer von Erlach (1721) was again a collection of engravings: imaginary perspectival reconstructions of famous architectural monuments. There followed editions of a general textbook by La Caille (1757, 1767), and works on perspectival instruments, including an anonymous author (1752), Scherffer (1781) and Vorgtlanderl (1785). It was not until the nineteenth century that Vienna emerged as a major centre with 70 publications. Even so, only a small number of these were devoted to artistic perspective including works by Rittinger (1839), Schoen (1863), Staudigl (1868), Burmester (1884) and Kajetan (1884). There was a translation of Philips Jacobszoon (1803) and in the latter quarter of the century, with Eitelberger von Edelberg's sources of art history, there were new editions of Renaissance treatises by Alberti (1877, 1888), Leonardo (1888), Pacioli (1889, 1896) and Filarete (1890, 1896).

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The majority of publications concerned mathematical and technical aspects. There were works on conic sections, by Binder, Blank, Grnert, Jesser, Koutny and Salomon; textbooks on descriptive geometry by Stieser, Heissig, Peschka, Schlesinger and Stampfl, and on instruments by Corbin, Dietmann, Fialkowski and Hillardt. There were also more specialized works on cartographical projection by Steinhauser and Laffauk; axonometric projection by Pelz, and Studigl and photographic perspective by Schiffner. As in Paris, London and elsewhere in Europe, connections between perspective and drawing inspired the most new work. In Vienna two authors were particularly influential: Heissig (1852, 1854, 1855, 1858, 1863, 1868, 1875, 1888) and Fialkowski (1879, 1880, 1882, 1893). But there were at least seven others active in the field, namely, Arbesser, Hieser, Hillardt, Jelinck, Kajetan, Limpoth and Wernigk. The twentieth century has added twenty further books, of which four have dealt with artistic perspective: Barenyi, Deininger, Goldstein, Meyer. Mathematical and technical works have continued to dominate the scene. Of these, new perspectival instruments by Sitte (1907, 1980) and Mack (1918, 1923), are perhaps the only ones worthy of note. CZECHOSLOVAKIA Prague

When Prague was the centre of the Holy Roman Empire, and seat of the Emperor, Rudolph II, there were editions of Krammer (1602, 1606) and Sadeler (1606). Over a century and a half later there appeared a work on conic sections, Tesanek (1764). The nineteenth century brought several contributions on mathematical and technical aspects including geometrical drawing, Paulus (1818); instruments, Hillardt (1840) and parallel perspective, Skuhersky (1858). The latter nineteenth century added three authors with respect to artistic perspective: Tilscher (1865, 1867), Smolik (1874) and Pelisek (1890), and the twentieth century has seen another two: Chalupnicek (1913) and Crhak 91978). But the focus of attention has remained on mathematical and technical aspects, including Ebert (1910), Jer bek (1912), Mack (1924), Salner (1954) and Setzer (1955). The most significant contributions have been made by Kader vek (1822, 1929, 1954, 1954), who has also made important contributions to the history of the subject. POLAND Warsaw

The first publication in Warsaw, Bartel (1928, 1955, 1958, 1960), was one of the best textbooks on artistic perspective of the twentieth century, replete with historical background and subtle examples. Since then there have been further texts by Kurzynski (1957, 1960) and Sheybal (1958, 1963), as well as Witwicki (1954) and Rolinski (1962). On the mathematical and technical side there have been contributions by Appia, Domsta and Strasburger, texts on axonometric perspective by Lange, Lewandowski and Piotrowski and architectural perspective by Sizin.

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Elsewhere in Poland publications have been too sporadic to speak of centres, although since 1960 there have been three texts published at Cracow, namely, Gomoliszewski (1966), Bruzda (1971) and Palasinsky (1971). ROUMANIA Bucharest

Publications in Bucharest only began in the 1950s and have focussed on mathematical and technical aspects with authors including Defour, Gheorghiu, Mayer and Mihailescu. Even so two authors have been active with respect to artistic perspective: Tanasescu (1963, 1971), and Teodoru (1964). RUSSIA Leningrad

In Russia, Leningrad and Moscow have been the two centres. In Leningrad, the first publication is said to have been a translation of Pozzo (1737), arranged by the Jesuits. In the latter eighteenth century, the academy at Leningrad, which had close links with its sister institution at Gttingen, became a vehicle for a series of important mathematical articles on cartographical and spherical projection by Euler (1778, 1778, 1778) and Schubert (1784, 1788, 1790), as well as on conic sections, Fuss (1805). The first clearly documented book on artistic perspective was a remarkable trilingual (Italian, French and Russian) textbook by Petitot di Lione (1789), the year of the French Revolution. In the nineteenth century, Potier (1816, 1817) introduced descriptive geometry in relation to drawing, a theme pursued by Sevastianov (1830) and subsequently by Rynin (1918). Leve (1858) also wrote on perspective in relation to shades and shadows. Even so, the majority of nineteenth century authors in Leningrad focussed on artistic perspective, including Lavit (1834), Shparvart (1862), Markov (1875) and Russet (1893) and continued into the twentieth century with Makovskii (1911). The chief author in this domain at the turn of the century was Makarov (1892, 1896, 1899, 1902, 1908, 1914). The revolution brought a complete break in this tradition which was not resumed until 1959. Since then the focus has been entirely on artistic perspective with at least seven new authors: Evteev, Kolokol'nikov, Novikov, Pavlov, Shimanskaia, Turro and Zmetnyi. Moscow The pattern in Moscow has been quite different for at least three reasons. Publications did not begin until the last decade of the nineteenth century, Martynov (1891). There was then a break for over 35 years until Chernetsov (1927). Since then there have been at least 60 further titles dealing with various aspects. On the mathematical and technical side there has been significant interest in descriptive geometry involving a translation of Monge (1944), and since then, works by at least seven authors: Debrjakov, Evdokimov, Glagolev, Gordon, Kuznetsov, Ostrovskii and Rudaev. Shades and shadows have been treated by Klimukhin (1967), and Filina (1975). There have been studies of cartographical

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projection by Berdljant, Evdokimov, Ginzburg, Polovinkhin and Tolstoukhov; architectural perspective by Federov, Krinskii, and Mashkov; technical drawing by Solov'ev and Nepomnjaschchii, and drawing by Aksenov and Federov. With respect to artistic perspective the earliest authors were Rerberg (1933, 1937) and Shcherbakov (1939, 1969). Since then, there have been over a dozen authors including Buinov, Danilijuk, Kuznetsov, Mochalov, Peterson and Solov'ev. The two most influential writers have been Baryshnikov (1948, 1949, 1955, cf. 1952) and Vladimirskii (1950, 1952, 1958, 1969). An interest in childrens' drawings in relation to perspective developed in the 1960's with Labunskaya (1965), Sakulina (1965), Levin (1979), as well as in the teaching thereof, e.g. Alekseeva (1968), Dembinskii (1970). Alternative forms of perspective, notably inverted and spherical perspective, have been considered by Rauschenbakh (1975, 1980). 4. ENGLAND London

London became by far the most important centre in England. But it was slow to develop. In the sixteenth century there were no publications relating to perspective. During the seventeenth century foreign publications dominated the field. The earliest of these was a treatise on the five orders of architecture by the Swiss author, Blum (1608, 1635, 1660, 1674). There was also a French edition of De Caus (1612), who came to England in 1608, as tutor to Henry, prince of Wales. Translations of Italian authors included Serlio (1611, 1657), Porta (1658, 1669) and Pozzo (1693). Translations of French authors included Desargues (1659), Le Clerc (1671, 1672), and Dubreuil (1672, 1673, 1698). A work by the Dutch author, Hondius, became the basis for a treatise by Moxon (1670, 1672, 1673). There was also an anonymous work by a learned stranger. English works as such were limited to a treatise on dialling and shadow projection by Wells (1635); on camera obscuras by Hooke, (1669) and an anonymous (1690) work on the geometry of landscapes. In the course of the eighteenth century, with 210 publications, London emerged as one of the most important centres of the world. Foreign translations continued to play a significant role. The most popular among these were the French authors, Dubreuil, with 11 editions, and Le Clerc, with seven editions, and the Dutch author, Lairesse, with five editions. Other French authors included Blondel, La Hire, Lamy, Le Blon, Le Clerc, L'Hospital and Ozanam. Translations from the Italian included Alberti, Buonamici, Piranesi, Pozzo and Sirigatti. Other foreign authors included the Dutch, Gravesande and, the Spanish, Palomino. Altogether, these translations of foreign works amounted to under a fifth of all publications. At the level of theory, one English author, Brook Taylor, had a seminal influence. This came less through actual editions of his linear perspective (1715, 1719, 1742, 1815, 1835), than through a series of more popular works that it inspired, by Kirby, with ten issues; Fournier, with five issues, as well as, Cowley, Highmore, and the Maltons, senior and junior. These popularizations continued into the

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nineteenth century through Blacker, Edwards and Jopling. In terms of theory, during the eighteenth century there were at least four other, more independent authors, notably, Hamilton (1734, 1738, 1748, 1749), Hodgson (1734, 1743, 1765, 1782, etc.), Martin (1745, 1770, 1790) who, not unlike Brander in Germany, also wrote on perspective in relation to microscopes (1771) and telescopes (1775, 1780); as well as Bradberry (1795, cf. 1789). By contrast, Ditton (1712) and Noble (1771) stressed practical perspective, an approach shared by numerous more popular authors including, Bardwell, Bowles, Dodsley, Ferguson, Peele and Smith, whose combined works amounted to over 45 issues and editions. Strictly mathematical works relating to perspective were fewer in London than in France or Germany and were limited primarily to conic sections, including Muller (1736, 1765), Jack (1742, 1769), Campbell (1755), Emerson, Hutton and Walker who also wrote on other mathematical topics. There were also specialized works on curved shadows, Murdoch (1746), and geometrical drawing, Adams (1791, 1797, 1803, 1813). Architectural works relating to perspective were also fewer than on the continent, notwithstanding authors such as Pain with six issues; Nicholson with no less than 18 issues by the mid-nineteenth century, and others including Longley (1726, 1730), Carwitham (1739) and Miller (1759). Meanwhile, publications in London emphasized new areas. One was the use of perspective in cabinet making and furniture, inspired largely by the classic texts of Chippendale, which eventually went through at least ten editions, and Sheraton, which went through at least nine editions. There were other publications by Ince (1762) on household furniture and by the London Society of Cabinet Makers (1788). Since then there have been further works by Brown (1820, 1822, 1835), Smith (1826), Newlands (1880), Bell (1930) and Emory (1955). On the continent, there had been a preoccupation with views of monumental architecture, notably of Rome (see above p. ), of French palaces, e.g. Androuet Du Cerceau, Prelle and idealized German palaces, e.g. Decker. London developed its own variant of this type of literature with views of small towns, Buck (1724, 1729, 1736, 1745); local churches and buildings, West (1736, 1739); houses of individuals, Serle (1745); views, Chatelain (1753); gardens, Chambers (1763) and even a voyage from Gibraltar to Malaga, Carter (1777). In the nineteenth century, this led to a literature on perspective applied to landscapes and nature, with authors including Orme (1801, 1802), Clark and Noble (1805, 1809, cf. 1840), Wood (1814), Rider (1836, 1849), Prout (1836, 1848, 1876), Green (1840) and Chapman (1858). In the nineteenth century, with 515 publications relating to perspective, London was second only to Paris and here only a very summary description can be given of the complex developments they entailed. In terms of foreign works, with the exception of Lairesse and Leonardo, translations were of French authors. Two, Le Clerc and Ozanam, were familiar from the eighteenth century. The remainder, Armengaud, Dupin, Francoeur, Thnot and Thibault were all concerned with

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perspective in relation to (technical) drawing, a theme which also acquired considerable significance among English authors. Early in the century Hodson and Dougall produced a universal drawing book (1804, 1805, 1821). Although the first work on isometric drawing appeared in Cambridge, Farish (1820), publications in London soon followed. Two of the most popular authors were Jopling (1833, 1834, 1835, 1839, 1842) and Binns (1857, 1861, 1865, 1871, 1874, 1876, 1878). Important also was Davidson who published works on isometrical drawing (1868, 1873, 1897), model drawing, building construction and a textbook on practical perspective, which went through eight editions. There was also Burns, who wrote on isometrical drawing (1835, 1855), a work on mechanical drawing which went through ten editions, and drawing generally. Other authors on isometric drawing included Atkinson, Heather, Sopwith and Spanton. At the same time there were books on other branches of drawing including engineering drawing, Clarke, Spooner, Wells; geometrical drawing, Bradley, Winter; industrial drawing, Spooner; mechanical drawing, Blunt, Foster, Mangall, Pease and particularly Rose; model drawing, Armstrong, Williams and notably Trobridge as well as technical drawing, Mast. With respect to mathematical aspects, considerable attention was devoted to conic sections, the most influential authors being Drew, Durell, Hunter, Puckle and Taylor, followed by others such as Bridge, Narrien, Pasley, Placock and Robertson. Together, they produced at least 47 publications on the subject. Unlike continental centres, such as Paris or Berlin, there was little emphasis in London on descriptive geometry, notwithstanding textbooks by Heather (1851), Bradley (1860), Pierce (1873) and Miller (1878). As concerns technical instruments, there was Wollaston's camera lucida (1807, 1812), also discussed by Dollond (1830). Stanley (1866 etc.), described various drawing instruments in a standard work which saw seven editions by 1900. There was also Hulme (1879), on this topic, and Milles (1895) on pinhole photography. Meanwhile, there was some interest in shades and shadows, both in terms of mathematical principles and applications to architecture, with works by Barnes, Gwilt, Puckett, Pratt and Ribbans. With respect to architecture there were important works by Spiers (1887, 1888, 1892, 1902, 1905) on architectural drawing and Ferguson (1891, 1895, 1907, 1915) on architectural perspective, as well as lesser works by Domschke, Longfellow, Reid and Rimmer. One of the most striking developments in nineteenth century London, was the emergence of popular textbooks which went through many editions. At the head of this list were Penley, whose Elements of perspective had 34 editions; Knight, whose Practical guide to perspective had 29 editions, while Lewis', Principles of perspective, and Pyne's, Perspective for beginners, both went through 17 editions each. There were followed by Green, with 14 editions, Davidson with eight, Burnett with seven, and Burgess, Hayter and Jewitt, each with six editions. The emergence of these textbooks went hand in hand both with developments in drawing, and the new interest in perspective as a part of education in schools (cf.

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below chapter 4 below). Some works were specifically aimed at this market. Most popular were Dennis', Elementary school grade perspective, with 17 editions, and Burchett, Linear perspective for schools of art, with at least 10 issues. As the century progressed, this educational dimension was increasingly reflected in titles such as Allen's Short treatise of perspective for the use of schools (1886, 1887) and Spencer's Practical perspective for the use of students (1890). Less popular, but frequently more important in terms of substance, was another class of authors, whose works had three or four editions such as Wood (1804, 1809, 1844), Varley (1815, 1820, 1888), Garry (1820, 1821, 1826), Whittock (1825, 1840, 1849), Fielding (1829, 1836, 1843), Duffin (1852, 1853, 1864), Cartlidge (1883, 1884, 1889), Miller (1887, 1892, 1895, 1914), Polak (1895, 1897, 1907) and Swinstead (1896, 1901, 1907). There were also at least ten authors whose works went through two editions including Crossley, Deacon, Dicksee, Hadfield, Howard, Moore, Nicholls, Parsey, Ryan and Symns and at least as many who had only one edition, notably, Abbatt, Baker, Boyle, Clapin, Collins, Delmont, Emerson, Jolly, Locock and Taylor. Among these were authors concerned with unusual aspects of the subject, such as Bayliss (1856), who wrote on aerial perspective, or Herdman (1853), who was among the first to devote a treatise to curvilinear perspective. In the twentieth century, with 265 publications, London has remained one of the leading centres of the world, although there have been significant shifts in focus. For instance, in terms of foreign works, the French influence which dominated nineteenth century publications has gone. Instead, there have been new editions of Renaissance texts, Alberti, Leonardo and Drer; a general textbook by Parramon (1973) and German architectural texts by Schaarwchter (1967) and Jacoby (1977). On the mathematical side, there has been little on conic sections and perspective, other than Askwith (1908) and Somerville (1929). On the other hand, there have been various developments with respect to map projection including Arden-Close, Jameson, Kellaway, Merriman and Morrison. With respect to architecture, the most popular author has been Holmes, with a work specifically on architectural shadow projection, and a general textbook (1937, 1938, 1946, 1948, 1954, 1957, 1962, 1967). Other authors have included Barnes, Farcy, Forman, Hobbis and Roberts. In terms of perspective for draughtsmen, there was one popular work by Seller (1925, 1926, 1930, 1931), followed by others by Manktelow (1957), Harvey (1959), Skelton (1966) and Ordon (1971). As for general textbooks on perspective, there have been no new works which have enjoyed twenty or thirty editions as in the nineteenth century. Indeed, only half a dozen authors have gone through four to six issues or editions, namely, Hatton (1903, 1910, 1919, 1924, 1929), Storey (1910, 1911, 1915, 1972), White (1954, 1968, 1969, 1974), who has also been translated into German and Japanese, Hollis (1955, 1956, 1960, 1962, 1968, 1974), Bromham (1970, 1974, 1975, 1978)

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and Walters (1970, 1974, 1975, 1976, 1978). Only slightly less popular have been authors such as Cole, Lubschez, Warren and more recently, Gill. One of the most original contributions to the field was made by Gordon (1922) who related the reversibility principle of perspective to practical problems in photogrammetry which has had consequences for many disciplines, including architectural design. Abbott (1957, cf. 1950) remains a standard textbook. There have also been numerous authors with only a single publication, including Barne, Brown, Coombes, Last, Lyndon, Myerscough-Walker, Percival, Warnes and Wylie. Perhaps the most striking development has been with respect to various types of technical drawing. During the first half of the twentieth century there were some works on this subject by Mayock (1915), Draycott (1927) and Evans (1949) as well as works on engineering drawing, Richards (1913) and Maxton (1928) and mechanical drawing, Jagger (1910). The field was dominated by two individuals, Giesecke, whose works were published simultaneously in America, and Parkinson, whose textbooks went through at least 25 issues. Since 1950, there have been a handful of authors with more than one publication, namely, Forbes, Glenister, Hewitt, Lewis and Marriott. In addition, there have been at least 50 new authors with books on some aspect of engineering or technical drawing including, to name but a few, Bathe, Cook, Davies, Freeburg, Harris, Kale, Kelsey, and Woolven. Two other centres in England bear mention, Oxford and Cambridge. Oxford At Oxford, Haydocke's translation of Lomazzo (1598), became the first English publication related to perspective. The seventeenth century saw only an edition of Ryff's (1655) summary of Witelo's optical compendium. The eighteenth century brought editions of classical texts by Apollonius, Euclid, and Serenus; works on conic sections by Milnes (1702, 1712) and Robertson (1793), of which there were further editions in the nineteenth (1818, 1825), along with a mathematical text by Cremona (1885, 1893) and a handbook of pictorial art by Tyrwhitt (1868, 1975). The twentieth century added a textbook by Storey (1910), works on engineering and technical drawing by Cousins, Dunne, Hails and Hicks as well as a standard work on polyhedra by Cundy and Rollett which has gone through at least 14 issues. Cambridge The first publication relating to perspective was on conic sections, Frevigar (1731), a topic which dominated publications in the nineteenth century, with authors such as Vince (1800, 1805, 1810, 1817), Hustler (1820, 1843, 1845), Hamilton (1830, 1834, 1838, 1843), Puckle (1854, 1856), Taylor (1872, 1873, 1883, 1888, 1889, 1891, 1903), and Besant (1884). Other contributions included an important paper by Farish (1821) on isometrical perspective, mentioned earlier, as well as texts by Hamilton (1828) on descriptive geometry, and Carhart (1883) on artistic perspective. The twentieth century has added works on various types of drawing,

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Kennedy (1905), Dales (1914), Rudd (1916), Walsh (1944, 1945); map projection, Hinks (1921), Melhuish (1931) and a work on architectural perspective, Lawrence (1931, 1945). Hence at Cambridge, as at Oxford, concern has been focussed on mathematical and technical dimensions of perspective. SCOTLAND Edinburgh

In Scotland there were two centres: Edinburgh and Glasgow. In Edinburgh during the eighteenth century, with the exception of two texts on the principles of perspective by Bradberry (1789), and Martin (1790), the focus was on conic sections, with works by Simson (1735, 1750, 1775, 1792), Jack (1742) and Wright (1772). The nineteenth century brought several basic texts on perspective, most of which were, however, also published elsewhere, particularly London: Wood (1801), Fergus (1802, 1803, 1823), Douglass (1803), an anonymous Catechism of perspective (1821), Clark (1840), Chambers (1851), Burn (1855) and Yule (1873). The twentieth century has seen only a text on technical drawing, Malcolm (1966). Glasgow In Glasgow, the first publications were editions of a work on conic sections by Simson (1804, 1814, 1817), which had appeared previously in Edinburgh. The first textbook on artistic perspective in Glasgow, Hodge (1876), was also published previously in both Edinburgh and London. Even so, Glasgow developed an independent approach in a way that Edinburgh, or Dublin, did not. The latter nineteenth century saw textbooks by Forsyth (1883, 1885). Even earlier, Blackie and Son (Glasgow, New York), had published a translation of Armengaud's, Engineer and machinists drawing book, which proved so influential in America. In the twentieth century, the same publisher has issued works of William Abbott, including textbooks on technical drawing (e.g. 1929, 1930, 1957), a standard textbook on perspective (1950), as well as a work on technical drawing by Hewitt (1967). Meanwhile, other works on this subject have been published by Miller (1941, 1955, 1958, 1960) and Hawksworth (1966). IRELAND Dublin

In Ireland, Dublin was the only centre, and it followed the English pattern. Among the earliest publications were views of Irish cities by Smith (1750, 1756). The eighteenth century saw three popularizing texts; a translation of Ozanam (1756), an anonymous, Art of drawing in perspective, (1768, 1786, 1804) and Ferguson (1778). The nineteenth century brought only a few works relating to conic sections: Charles (1841), Salmon (1848, 1850) and Casey (1885, 1893). 5. NORTH AND SOUTH AMERICA In North America, almost all publications were in the United States, with New York as the pre-eminent centre. A half dozen centres produced between 10 and 56

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books, namely, Philadelphia, Chicago, Boston, Scranton, Cleveland and New Haven. In Canada, there were but a few publications in Toronto, Ottawa and Montreal. In South America, Rio di Janeiro, in Brazil, has been the only centre with scattered publications in a few other cities. Each of these will again be considered in turn. UNITED STATES New York In New York, the earliest publication related to perspective was a work on conic sections by Simson (1804), which had appeared previously in Edinburgh (1775, 1792). Translations of foreign works in the nineteenth century were limited to two textbooks on drawing by Thnot (1834, 1838, 1844), and Armegaud (1854, 1855, 1856, 1857), which had appeared earlier in London. This tendency to adapt works, which had already appeared in London, emerged as a pattern and included Nicholson (1837), Whittock (1840), Chapman (1849, 1864), Miller (1887, 1892, 1895, 1914) and Burnet (1888). Perhaps the most interesting example was Ruskin, whose, Elements of perspective, initially went through a single edition in London, followed by at least 16 issues in New York. Publications in the first half of the nineteenth century were dominated by a single author, Davies, whose textbooks on perspective and related subjects amounted to over 50 issues. His equivalent in the second half of the century was Warren, whose texts amounted to over 60 issues. Both individuals combined mathematical and technical interests with artistic ones, as if everything could be reduced to pragmatic techniques. A similar approach was evident in the works of Honey, Sullivan and Willson. Authors who focussed specifically on artistic perspective, such as Cone (1889, 1899) and Ware (1895, 1900, 1905, 1914), were the exception. With respect to mathematics and perspective, the nineteenth century brought two standard textbooks on descriptive geometry: Church, with at least 11 issues, and Mahan, with at least 16 issues. In terms of architecture, there were again two standard textbooks; Tuthill, which went through 10 issues and Wright, which went through five. Those who dealt with shades and shadows in relation to architectural perspective included Hill (1896), Willson (1898) and later Ware (1912). As in Paris and London, there was a particular vogue for books on technical and mechanical drawing in relation to perspective. During the nineteenth century, three authors dominated this field in New York: Appleton with 12 issues, Minifie with 17, and Krsi with 6 issues. Other authors included Gedde, Maccord, Tomkins, Tracy, and Willson. The twentieth century brought two important new authors: French, with 10 editions, and Giesecke, with five editions, and four other influential writers: Bartlett, Levens, Luzzader and Turner. In addition, the twentieth century has brought at least 60 further authors concerned with some aspect of drawing and perspective, including axonometric drawing, Roever (1941); isometrical drawing, Jamison (1911), Locke (1911); engineering drawing, Adler (1912, 1915), Leeds (1919), Mann (1930), Hobart (1941), Grant (1962) and a

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majority on mechanical drawing including Hawkins (1902), Oberg (1910), Cohen (1913), Jones (1920, 1931, 1941), Paull (1936), Meyer (1944), and Barnes (1948). In terms of mathematics and perspective, the twentieth century has seen a number of texts on descriptive geometry including Ferris (1904), Moyer (1905), Smith (1912), Kenison (1917), Kirby (1922), Hood (1926), Larkins (1939) and Douglass (1948). The most popular works have been Bartlett, with nine issues and more recently Grant (1948, 1952, 1956, 1965) and Slaby (1966, 1969, 1976). Striking about these works is their emphasis on practical applications rather than theoretical principles. The same characteristic applies to architectural perspective, with authors including Brahdy, Buck, Forseth, Hicks, Morgan, Pile, Reznikoff, Rich, Shelton, Tenle and Vrooman as well as the more influential Hornung (cf. 1910, 1949, 1950, 1955, 1956, 1971) and Fielding (1922, 1932, 1943). In the nineteenth century, there were but two translations of foreign works in New York. The twentieth century has seen a change. In terms of architectural perspective there have been translations of Coulin (1966, 1982, 1983), Schaarwchter (1967), Mori (1982, 1985), Knig (1984) and Prenzel (1985). With respect to artistic perspective there have been a number of editions and translations of Renaissance treatises including Barozzi (1923), Tory (1927), Plerin (1938, 1973, 1975), Vredeman (1968), Serlio (1970) and Leonardo (1974, 1979) as well as Baroque authors, Galli Bibiena (1971) and Pozzo (1971). During the first half of the twentieth century, a textbook on freehand perspective by Norton, with at least 15 issues, was the most popular work concerning artistic perspective. Also influential were a half dozen other authors, including Richards (1905, 1908, 1916, 1923), Lubschez (1913, 1915, 1921, 1926, 1927), Norling (cf. 1930, 1939, 1945, 1947, 1948, 1949, 1952), Freese (1930, 1938) and Postels (1942, 1949, 1951, 1952). Less influential were Colvin, Hoyt, Kraus, Laning, Lange, Reinhardt and Wilson. The decade 1943 to 1953 witnessed a slump with only two new authors: Judge (1949) and Fuller (1952). This was followed by a revival of interest through popular authors such as Amelio, Doblin, Gill, Hollis, Shaw, Walters, Watson and White, as well as at least nineteen others, their quantity alas not matched by their originality. Philadelphia The earliest work in Philadelphia was an edition of Bowles' (1794) text on artistic perspective. The nineteenth century brought three further authors on this theme: Ropes (1868), Brown (1883) and Jackson (1897). In terms of mathematical perspective, there were textbooks by Simson (1807, 1809) on conic sections, and Davies (1826, 1836, 1839, 1840, 1841, 1844) on descriptive geometry. Texts on shades and shadows included Davies (1840), Hinckley (1851) and Pillet (1896). As elsewhere, books on drawing and perspective dominated the field, notably Armengaud (1863, 1865, 1866, 1867, 1869, 1870, 1871, 1875) on industrial drawing, and Rose (1883, 1884, 1889, 1894, 1906) on mechanical drawing. There

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were also other texts on engineering drawing, Byrne (1853); isometric drawing, Klein (1869), and mechanical drawing, Thorne (1889, 1890), Rooke (1895) and Jackson (1896). The twentieth century has seen two further authors on this topic: Starkey (1909) and Fry (e.g., 1912, 1916, 1919, 1927); one writer on instruments, Wythes (1958), and two authors on artistic perspective, Burnet (1913) and Cole (1920, 1921, 1922, 1925). Chicago Drawing in relation to perspective has also been the main theme of publications in Chicago. The nineteenth century saw only a text on geometrical drawing, Eggers (1882). In the twentieth century the most influential works were by Everett and Lawrence, Kenison and the American school of correspondence. There were also texts on architectural drawing, Radford (1912), Stegman (1966); engineering drawing, Orth (1915), Giachino (1916); mechanical drawing, Webber (1904), Westinghouse (1907), Adams (1914), Harrison (1914), Hutton (1915), Wood (1927) as well as technical drawing, Beukema (1954, 1961), Giachino (1960). Exceptions to this pattern have been Taylor (1910) on artistic perspective, and Kellsey (1947), on photographic perspective. Scranton Of the 24 books published in Scranton during the twentieth century, four have dealt with artistic perspective: Koller (1940), Jones (1961, 1966) and Jellico (1966). All the rest have dealt with aspects of drawing in relation to perspective, including architectural perspective, Lowndes (1930, 1935, 1938); engineering drawing, Carter (1943), and mechanical drawing, Royce (1927, 1928), Hayes (1941, 1948), and the International Correspondence Schools with eight textbooks between 1902 and 1935. Cleveland In the nineteenth century, publications were limited to texts on artistic perspective, Brainerd (1853, 1854), and drawing, Aborn (1893). The twentieth century added two further texts on artistic perspective, Cooper (1900, 1925), Myslak (1967), a textbook on mechanical drawing, Browning (1905) and a popular translation of Barozzi il Vignola's, Renaissance treatise on the five columns of architecture (1921, 1922, 1923, 1925, 1929, 1931). New Haven During the nineteenth century, there were three editions of Bridge on conic sections; a work on linear perspective, Honey (1877), and textbooks on mechanical drawing, Honey (1881), Lockwood (1873), Marshall (1897). The twentieth century has seen further textbooks on this subject by Kirby, Kirschner and North. In terms

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of artistic perspective, there have been new editions of Renaissance treatises of Alberti and Filarete. CANADA Since the late nineteenth century there have been at least nine publications in Canada but these have been too scattered to speak properly of centres. In Toronto, there were texts on perspective and geometrical drawing, McGuirl (1887), a work on drafting, Jensen (1963) and treatises on map projection, Wray (1974), Lee (1976). In Ottawa, the earliest work was a classic text on photographic surveying by Deville (1895), which had an impact on European practice through Laussedat and others. There was also a work on map projection by Senecal (1929). Montreal has seen two works on artistic perspective, Carpentier (1975), Pansel (1975). BRAZIL In South America, Rio di Janeiro, in Brazil, with eight publications, in Portuguese, is the only city that might be described as a centre. The earliest of these was a treatise on applied geometry with a theory of shadows by Sampaio (1894). Since then there has been a further text on shades and shadows by Pinheiro (1948), who has also written on perspectival composition (1949). There have been four textbooks on technical aspects, Carvalho, Medeiros, Negro and Rodrigues, and one on artistic perspective, Azavedo Silva (1973). There was also a text by Doria (1958) published in Curitiba, Brazil. Elsewhere in South America publications have been scattered with no obvious pattern as, for instance, a text on geometrical drawing in Sucre, Bolivia by Bardin (1852) or a technical treatise by Obrecht (1893) in Santiago, Chile. 6. THE FAR EAST AND ELSEWHERE CHINA Beijing In China, there have been two centres: Beijing and Shanghai. Publications in Beijing began in 1729 (cf. 1735) with a translation of Pozzo arranged by the Jesuits. Well over two hundred years then passed before there were further translations from the West in the form of two Russian textbooks, namely, Dobrjakov (1955), on descriptive geometry and Danilijuk (1956) on artistic perspective. Since then, with the exception of a textbook by Xia (1956) on artistic perspective, publications in Beijing have focussed on mathematical and technical aspects including map projection, Fang (1957), shades and shadows, Jin (1959), Wu-han-ce hui... (1959) and Tang-shan... (1965); geometrical perspective, Zhu (1957); technical drawing, Tong-ji-da (1961) and architecture, Zhong-huacen...(1957). Shanghai Shanghai has been more obviously open to western influences with translations of at least five authors in the twentieth century: Anthony, Cassagne, Lubschez,

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Ostrovskii, and Warren. While there has been work on technical drawing, e.g., Yu (1931), Tong-ji-da... (1961), and architectural perspective, Huo (1954), Lin (1958), there have also been a half dozen textbooks on artistic perspective, including Huang (1931), Jiang (1933), Sun (1953, 1957), Wang (1954), Yan (1957) and Yen (1957). Curiously enough, there is no record of publications after 1961. TAIWAN Taipei

Taipei only began publishing on these topics in the 1970's, with works on architectural perspective, Huang (1972), Ke (1975), and works by Zhu (1975) on technical drawing, and perspective drawing (1978). JAPAN Tokyo

Publications in Tokyo only began in 1967. Since then there have been 31 books, of which over two thirds deal with architectural perspective. Indeed, this dimension has become so important that, as Mitooka (1987) has pointed out in his introduction: In Japan perspectives known under the typical Japanese abbreviation pers have come to mean architectural renderings used in the advertising activities of the construction industry, rather than the painting technique which developed remarkably in the Renaissance period. These include translations of western works by Doblin (1971), Jacoby (1977, 1979) and Frank Lloyd Wright (1977), Japanese authors, Akezawa, Itihasi, Mori, Onisi, Okamura, and the publishing house, Syokusya (1969, 1975, 1977). With respect to artistic perspective there has been a translation of White (1969) and editions by Kanazawa, Mijazaki, Nakamura, Ota, Takahasi and Tyuzenzi. No works relating to the mathematical side of perspective have appeared in Tokyo. Even more so than in the United States, the focus has been on practical applications rather than theoretical principles. AUSTRALIA Not unlike Canada, publications in Australia have been too scattered to speak seriously of centres. They began in Brisbane, with a practical textbook by Kretschmer (1904), followed, more recently by two works by Millican (1962, 1970). With the exception of a textbook on artistic perspective, Shirlow (1932), Melbourne has published only works on artistic perspective: Dean (1933), Bullen (1941), Carter (1967), Center (1967). In Sydney, four of the five publications have been by Sierp (1948, 1958, 1969, 1972), with one text intended for architects, Thorne (1969).

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INDIA Publications in India have been even more sporadic. In the mid-nineteenth century there was a work on architectural perspective in Madras by Santz (1956), and on the art of tracing in Bombay by Fritchley (1986). The twentieth century has seen a work on a perspectograph in Calcutta, Bose (1944); a textbook on geometrical drawing in Anand, Bhatt (1962), and two technical works by Ahmand and Sharma in Delhi.

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3. TREATISES 1. Introduction. 2. Early Treatises. 3. Optics. 4. Geometry. 5. Architecture. 6. Themes. 7. Categories. 8. Conclusions.

1. Introduction The contents of the early treatises varied enormously because they remained in manuscript form and because perspective was not an independent subject for classification (see below 1.4). Accordingly, as a repertoire of themes emerged in the latter sixteenth century, these dovetailed with at least four traditional disciplines: optics, surveying (particularly in terms of instruments, see below 2.1), geometry (two main methods, polyhedra, letters, human forms) and architecture (e.g. scenography, columns, ruins, idealized buildings, interiors and quadrature). A number of these themes evolved into independent topics, while others remained minor themes in the perspective treatises for the next centuries. Various branches of perspective also evolved. During the fifteenth century, treatises dealt exclusively with one-point perspective. Plerin (1505) introduced two-point perspective to the literature. (Three-point perspective only became current in the latter nineteenth century.) Meanwhile, Piero della Francesca had introduced another branch: anamorphosis. The seventeenth, eighteenth and nineteenth centuries brought further branches of perspective including cavalier, axonometric, isometric, cylindrical, conic, spherical, aerial, colour, chiaroscuro as well as shades and shadows. Each of these will be considered in turn. 2. Early Treatises (1434-1568) The early treatises focussed on practical demonstrations. Alberti, in his On painting (1434), the first extant treatise on perspective, began with basic definitions, general remarks about optics, and a description how to make a perspectivally foreshortened plane. In book two, he described the use of a perspectival window (velo). If we believe the account of Vasari (1558) it was not until the 1550s that Alberti invented such an instrument. Meanwhile, in Elements of painting (1435-1440), Alberti gave examples of perspective involving geometrical diminution, using combinations of squares (fig. 28.1), pentagons and circles. Filarete (1464?), gave an even more elementary treatment in a brief section on perspective in his Treatise on architecture (fol. 173v-178v): basic definitions, a first diagram of the legitimate construction, and a few simplified examples of perspectival diminution. Piero della Francesca's On perpective of painting (c. 1470-1480), was the first treatise devoted specifically to perspective. It opened with basic definitions and a demonstration of the window principle. Book one contained examples in groundplan involving geometrical diminution, including a square, octagon, sixteen sided

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figure, oblique triangle, hexagon, pentagon and octagon. In book two, the same principles were applied to three-dimensional objects: a cube, pentagon, octagon, hexagon, columns, a hexagonal well on stairs, a four sided and an eight sided building and a vault. Book three opened with a description of a second method, involving a combined ground plan and elevation,1 which was then applied to a mazzochio shape, a tilted cube, bases of columns, human heads and an apse. At the end Piero provided three examples of anamorphosis including an egg which became a sphere--an idea he used in his Brera Altar (pl.7.1). By contrast, the section on perspective in Francesco di Giorgio Martini's treatise on architecture, engineering and military arts, Codex Saluzziano 148 in Turin, was only two pages (fol. 33r-33v) but, nonetheless, important because it demonstrated principles of perspectival diminution in terms of surveying practice. His contemporary, Leonardo da Vinci, gave a more systematic treatment in Manuscript A (1492), beginning with basic definitions (point, line, surface), followed by quantitative demonstrations, connections between surveying and perspective and examples involving polygonal shapes.2 Luca Pacioli's discussion, in his Summa (1494), was limited to four pages, with examples drawn from surveying experience. While Pomponius Gauricus devoted ten pages to perspective in his On sculpture (1504), he emphasized etymological and literary references, mentioned classification (see below p. ) and merely included one paragraph of technical description. With the advent of Northern treatises in the sixteenth century, there was a greater emphasis on illustration. For instance, Plerin's On artificial perspective (1505), introduced a first series of architectural exteriors (fig. 29.1-2) and interiors (fig. 66.1) of both sacred and secular buildings. These themes were developed in A beautiful useful booklet (1531), edited by Hieronymus Rodler, and in Serlio's works on architecture (1544 etc.). In the next decades, specialized treatises on architectural perspective emerged with the works of Androuet Du Cerceau and Vredeman de Vries (see below 2.4). Parallel with these developments towards specialization, there was another trend in the direction of compendia. Albrecht Drer's Instruction in measurement (1525) was an early example. It dealt with geometry, regular solids, letters, shadows, methods of perspective and instruments. Daniele Barbaro, building on the work of both Piero della Francesca and Drer, took this approach further in his Practice of perspective (1568) with sections on optics, geometry, the methods of perspective, regular and semi-regular solids, irregular objects, columns, architecture, scenography, anamorphosis, planispheres, shadows, human form and instruments. Since later treatises usually contained most, and occasionally all of these subjects, it will be useful to consider the history of each in turn.

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3. Optics Optics and perspective shared a common etymological root in the Latin perspectiva, and fifteenth century authors no doubt tended to see in optics a theoretical basis for linear perspective. Hence, Ghiberti, active in protoperspectival demonstrations, also discussed optics at length in his Third commentary.3 Alberti, in his On painting, referred briefly to concepts such as visual angles and central ray, but carefully avoided details of optical debates.4 So too did Piero della Francesca, Leonardo da Vinci, Plerin and Drer. Indeed, none of these authors mentioned any specific sources on optics. One of the first to do so was Serlio (1540), and then more as a disclaimer: "In this work I will not trouble myself to dispute philosophically what perspective is, or from whence it hath the original, for learned Euclides writeth darkly on the speculation thereof."5 Barbaro (1568) referred to Apollonius' Conics and Euclid's Elements with respect to visual angles, but did not mention Euclid's Optics explicitly, although he cited introductory assumptions from that treatise. Egnazio Danti, who produced an Italian translation of Euclid's Optics (1573), did cite the work specifically in his edition of Vignola's The two rules (1583). No one at the time pointed out basic discrepancies between theories of visual angles and principles of perspectival planes noted above (see p. ). Hence, while most fifteenth and sixteenth century treatises paid lip service to optics, there was no serious consideration of its principles. In the seventeenth century the situation became more complex. For instance, Accolti (1625) cited not only Euclid's Optics, but also Heliodorus of Larissa, Theon of Alexandria, Aristotle, Galen, Hippocrates and Witelo with respect to theory. Nor did he cite blindly. For while acknowledging Witelo's great authority as "the sole and principal head of the school of perspectivists,"6 Accolti noted his mistaken claims with respect to the oblique passage of lights.7 On the other hand, Accolti continued to claim that "perspective is nothing other in effect than a representative section of the visual pyramid,"8 a view which remained popular (see below 1.4), in spite of efforts by Desargues and Bosse to establish that the laws of perspective had their basis not in Euclidean optics, but Euclidean geometry. 4. Geometry The links between geometry and perspective had been implicit from the outset in Alberti's Elements of painting. For authors such as Piero della Francesca, Leonardo, Barbaro and Danti, Euclid was considerably more than a source of geometry: Euclid provided basic definitions (e.g. point, line, surface), principles of proportional diminution and a model for the treatment of the regular solids. Beginning with Piero della Francesca, there was increasing interplay between the goals of mathematics and perspective, which helps explain why Piero's treatises on the abacus, on the five regular solids and on linear perspective were all considered

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works on perspective by Danti9 (1583). Leonardo da Vinci's quantatitive, experimental demonstrations of perspective contributed to these links. In Germany, this interplay between mathematics and perspective acquired new connotations. Etymologically the Greek term for geometry, ( ), meant measurement of the earth. Hence, Drer called his introductory book on geometry Instruction in measurement and devoted a chapter thereof to perspective. The author of A beautiful useful booklet (1531), in turn, equated perspective with measurement. Hirschvogel (1543) went further by entitling his book: Geometry. The book geometry is my name. All liberal arts at first from me came. Architecture and perspective together I bring. Barbaro (1568), included a short section on proportional principles of geometry. Danti (1583), added a larger section and described the goals of perspective in terms of transformational geometry Since beyond the description of rectilinear figures it is very useful for the Perspectivist to know how to transmute one figure into the other, I wish...to show the normal way, not only to transmute a circle and any other rectilinear figure that is wished into another but also move to expand and diminish it in any proportion that is desired, in order that in this book the Perspectivist will have all that which is required for such a noble practice.10 In the decades that followed, mathematical aspects of perspective came increasingly to the fore thanks to Commandino and his student Guidobaldo del Monte (1600), who claimed that the nobility of architecture and painting were to be attributed "to mathematical principles and especially to perspective."11 In the Netherlands, Simon Stevin wrote a treatise because his patron, Prince Maurits, wished "to design exactly the perspective of any mathematical figure with knowledge of the causes and its mathematical proof."12 Through Leonardo, Lencker (fig. 32.1), Commandino and Stevin formal mathematical problems such as conic sections also found their way into treatises on perspective (see below pp. ). As a result, by the early seventeenth century perspective had become an area of study for geometers and mathematicians generally, including Aleaume, Migon and more powerful minds such as Desargues and Pascal. It was notuntil the nineteenth century that further developments in mathematics threatened entirely to subsume perspective (see below 1.4). 5. Architecture The intimate links between architecture and perspective were due largely to the Vitruvian tradition. Renaissance thinkers tended to translate Vitruvius' three categories of ichnographia, orthographia and scenographia as ground-plan, elevation and perspective with the result that perspective was seen as part of the architect's profession. Indeed, the authors of fifteenth century treatises were frequently architects, namely, Alberti, Filarete, Francesco di Giorgio Martini and

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Leonardo da Vinci, a trend which continued in the sixteenth century with Peruzzi, Serlio, Cousin, Androuet Du Cerceau, Barozzi, Danti and Vredeman de Vries. In Bellini's Sketchbooks (fig. 83.1-2), these connections between architecture and perspective were evident from the outset. Elsewhere they emerged slowly. Filarete's treatise contained only three schematic perspectival diagrams showing the exteriors of an hexagonal, spherical and occtangular building. Piero della Francesca's On perspective of painting, contained two perspectival views of a square and an octangular building, plus a vaulted archway. Francesco di Giorgio Martini's treatise contained various rough perspectival sketches of Roman buildings, including both interiors and exteriors in section (fig. 84.2), using a method associated with Brunelleschi (fig. 84.3) which, as already noted, was also known in Northern practice (fig. 10.1-2) and was published by Plerin who used it in seven secular and three sacred buildings (fig. 10.3-4). Ringelbergius (1531) provided five simplified versions of such interiors. Rodler (1531) was the first to explore such architectural exteriors and interiors in detail, pointing the way to a new category of books by Androuet Du Cerceau and Vredeman de Vries in the next generation (see below 2.4). The treatises frequently contained architectural sections and cutaways. Francesco di Giorgio Martini employed these in a rough way. Leonardo da Vinci, applying his experience of anatomical sections, improved upon them. Serlio published them often in conjuction with a ground plan. Cousin (1560), employed a geometrical and perspectival ground-plan combined with a perspectival view in section for various idealized architectural buildings, which Androuet Du Cerceau (1576) developed further. In Italy, Barbaro (1568) and Danti (1583) illustrated an alternative using a combined ground-plan, elevation and profile, which became standard in treatises on both perspective and architecture. Vasari, Jr. (1595) and Sirigatti (1596), provided various architectural motifs in their treatises. Meanwhile, Serlio (1545), had argued that the two subjects were not only interdependent, but that perspective was a prerequisite for architecture: And no perspective workman can make any work without architecture, nor architecture without perspective. To prove this, it appeareth by the architecture in our days, wherein good achitecture hath begun to appear and show it self: for, was not Bramante, an excellent architect, and was he not first a painter, and had great skill in perspective art, before he applied himself to the art of architecture? And Raphael of Urbino, was not he a most cunning painter, and an excellent perspective artist, before he became an architect? And Baldassare Perruzzi of Siena, was also a painter, and so well seen in perspective art, that he, seeking to place certain pillars and antique works perspectivally, took such a pleasure in the proportions, and measures thereof, that he also became an architect; wherein he so much excelled, that his like was almost not to be found. Was not the learned Jeronimo Genga also an excellent painter, and most cunning in perspective art, as the fair works, which he made for the

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pleasure of his Lord, Francesco Maria, Duke of Urbino, can testify; under whom he became a most excellent architect? Giulio Romano, a scholar of Raphael of Urbino, who by perspective art and painting, became an excellent architect, witnesseth the same.13 In the generation that followed, architects began to articulate clearly the need for perspective. For instance, Pietro Cataneo, in his book on architecture, noted that "what is of greater need to the architect and of so much importance is that he be a good perspectivist,"14 adding by way of warning: But if the architect is not a perspectivist he will never be able to honour himself as well, nor show his concept by means of drawing, however excellent a designer he may be. And he will know for himself how important it is to be a good practitioner in perspective.15 Cataneo was so intent to impress upon his readers the need for perspective that he included the phrase "its elevation by means of perspective"16 in no less than eleven chapter headings, although some of the illustrations were simply elevations, others sections, and then rough perspectival views. Meanwhile, the Vitruvian commentaries of Cesariano (1521), Caporali (1536) and Ryff (1548) included perspectival woodcuts as if these were literally a rebirth of Vitruvian methods, an idea which Scamozzi took up explicitly in his Idea of architecture (1617): As Vitruvius also says, perspective serves to represent all things by means of artificial lines, [when one is] standing in a certain place. These correspond to the rays of our natural sight in such a way that they carry to our eyes the species and true images of buildings which are drawn in forshortening in scenes and elsewhere.17 Scamozzi also emphasized the remarkable qualities of perspective: And it is certainly a marvelous thing to behold such that the planes of panels or pictures, with [the aid of] colours are so well placed and drawn by art that to those who look at them they appear to be in relief, both higher and deeper [than they actually are].18 Scamozzi added that he had written six books on perspective in his youth--alas now lost--which he hoped to publish after finishing his work on architecture.19 By the eighteenth century, it was common for general treaties on perspective to contain a section dealing specifically with architecture. For instance, Courtonne's (1725) Treatise of practical perspective contained detailed ground-plans and perspectival elevations. This tradition continued throughout the nineteenth century. For example, Edwards (1803) Practical treatise on perspective on the principles of Brook Taylor, gave ground-plans and perspectival views of isolated buildings, buildings in context, and from different viewpoints. Guiot (1845), offered views of

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interiors and exteriors. Schreiber (1854), gave elevations, multiple views and detailed drawings of historical buildings. Gennerich (1865), gave ground-plans and elevations, not only for buildings, but also for canals. Meanwhile, architecture increasingly found its way into the titles of perspectival treatises: e. g. Hirschvogel (1543), Bassi (1572). Hence, the 1619 edition of Serlio was headed All the works of architecture and perspective. Later examples included Huret (1678), Oakley (1730), Galli da Bibiena (1740), Piranesi (1800), and Fabris (1860). In the sixteenth century, titles frequently mentioned that the work was dedicated to a number of professions of which architecture was but one of many.20 This continued into the seventeenth century, as in Dubreuil's Practical perspective (1642-1649), which was addressed to "painters, engravers, sculptors, architects, goldsmiths, embroiderers, tapestry makers and others using drawing."21 By the end of the seventeenth century, this began to change. Pozzo's (1693-1700) treatise, for example, was entitled Perspective of painters and architects. The eighteenth century saw a continuation of this trend towards works on perspective dedicated specifically, or mainly to architects, e.g. Bretez (1706), Costa (1747), Kirby (1761) and Cobin (1794). In the meantime, the interplay between architecture and perspective had become much more complex. On the one hand there were now a number of architectural themes, which were regularly included in treatises on perspective (see below pp. ). On the other hand there were new categories of architectural literature, which incorporated perspectival principles (see below pp. ). 6. Themes In addition to these traditional disciplines which served as major topics, there evolved a number of subordinate themes. Some were closely connected with geometry, namely, the two main methods, polyhedra, irregular objects, letters and the human form. We shall consider each of them briefly. Two Chief Methods Although we know from Danti (1583) and Guidobaldo del Monte (1600), that there were many competing methods during the sixteenth century, including a number of erroneous ones, there were two methods which gained ascendancy. The chief of these which history has remembered as the legitimate construction, deriving from Benedetti's (1585) phrase: this sole legitimate one (hunc solum legittimam),22 was linked with the perspectival window, and began simply as a verbal description in Alberti (1434). Filarete (1464?), added a scale diagram, such that relative sizes and distances could be deduced. Piero della Francesca (c. 1480), added actual measurements, as did Luca Pacioli (1494). But these involved only isolated cases. Leonardo (1490-1500) described systematic measurements of the diminutions involved. In Piero's treatise the legitimate construction became linked with the ground plan/elevation method. Leonardo evolved new combinations

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thereof, variations of which were subsequently printed by Barbaro (1568), Danti (1583) and Benedetti (1585).23 Alberti, in his Elements of painting (c 1435-1440), described an alternative geometrical method involving proportional diminution. Piero della Francesca, developed this in books one and two of On perspective of painting (c. 1480). Francesco di Giorgio Martini made this a practical demonstration. With Plerin (1505), this method emerged as the distance point construction. Ringelbergius (1531) gave quantitative examples of this method, demonstrating what happened to squares positioned 10, 20 or 40 feet from the eye. Beginning with Serlio (1545), it became customary to acknowledge that there were two methods. Danti (1583), set out to demonstrate that they were actually equivalent. Meanwhile the earlier geometrical version of this method in terms of proportional diminution continued. Piero della Francesca's example using a cube was adapted by Barbaro (fig. 28.4). His examples of foreshortened columns were adapted in a rough version by Serlio. The architectural applications of the method, explored by Plerin (fig. 29.1-2), were developed dramatically by Androuet Du Cerceau (fig. 29.3) and later by Bibiena (fig. 29.4). Discussion of both methods remained a standard topic of perspective treatises until well into the eighteenth century. Polyhedra The regular and semi-regular solids became one of the most popular geometrical themes in the perspective treatises. Plato had described the five regular solids in the Timaeus24 and Euclid had outlined their geometrical construction at the end of his Elements. Regiomontanus' lost work25 and Piero della Francesca's treatise on the five regular solids, as well as his work on the abacus, continued this tradition. Leonardo da Vinci's illustrations for Pacioli's Divine proportion (1496-1499), made the regular and semi-regular solids a stock topic for treatises on perspective. Drer, in his Instruction in measurement (1525), published nets (i.e., ground plans) of the regular solids, without giving their three dimensional equivalents. Hirschvogel (1543), was the first to publish nets and perspectival views of the solids together. This subsequently became a fairly standard practice, as witnessed by Cousin (1560), Lautensack (1564), Barbaro (1568) and Danti (1583). In Antiquity, Archimedes also considered thirteen semi-regular solids, according to an account by Pappus. Leonardo illustrated these for Pacioli's Divine proportion (1496-1499, e.g. figs. 36.1-2). A fascination for such forms and their variants developed soon thereafter. Drer (1525), provided nets or ground-plans for nine of these. Stoer (1567), integrated regular and semi-regular solids into imaginary scenes of architectural ruins in woodcuts intended as models for marquetry. Lencker (1571), also produced a number of semi-regular solids. His contemporary, the goldsmith, Wenzel Jamnitzer, created an extraordinary collection of both regular and semi-regular bodies in his Perspective of regular solids (1568) which, as he explained in his title, was based on Plato's Timaeus and Euclid's Elements. Accordingly, he associated the tetrahedron with fire, octahedron

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with air, hexahedron with earth, icosahedron with water and dodecahedron with heaven respectively. Using a "particular new adroit method never before in use"26 he provided six regular, six truncated, six stellated and six double stellated variants for each of the regular solids to create a total of 120 versions which, as he pointed out in his long title, was but an "introduction how, out of these five bodies, many other bodies of various kinds and shapes may be made and found without end."27 Meanwhile, in Venice, Barbaro also explored these problems. His Practice of perspective (1568), contained nets and perspectival versions of the five regular solids and five truncated versions. In addition, he provided nets for 16 further semi-regular solids and four stellated versions. His younger contemporary, Danti (1583), was content simply to refer to the work of Piero della Francesca, Luca Pacioli, Lencker, Jamnitzer and Barbaro with respect to polyhedra. Giorgio Vasari, Jr., by contrast, in his manuscript treatise (1595), adapted a number of the forms explored by Jamnitzer, and used them in new combinations (figs. 36.4, 37.4). These, in turn, were adapted by Sirigatti (1596), in his published treatise (fig. 37.2). Hence, if Nrnberg artists such as Drer, Jamnitzer and Lencker, at first profited from their Italian colleagues, Italians such as Barbaro, Vasari, Jr., and Sirigatti in turn learned from their Nrnberg colleagues. The conscious cumulative dimension which had entered these developments by the end of the sixteenth century was nowhere more evident than in a treatise published by a Nrnberg practitioner, Pfintzing (1598), for his friends (cf. above pp. ). While citing the contributions of predecessors, Pfintzing specifically discussed the use of instruments in drawing the regular solids perspectivally (e.g. figs. 52.2, 4-5). These themes remained popular throughout the seventeenth century. Marolois (1614) continued the tradition of instruments. Halt (1625) in a book devoted entirely to regular and semi-regular solids, provided over 170 illustrations of such shapes often in unlikely combinations. Nicron (1638, 1646, etc.), was at pains to give abstract and concrete versions of the solids, an idea which Dubreuil (1647) adopted in his popular work (figs. 35.1-2). Eighteenth century authors such as Courtonne (fig. 35.3, 1725) and Highmore (fig. 35.4,1763) developed this approach, relating several mathematical versions of a given object. The nineteenth century added nothing fundamentally new. Indeed, authors such as Bennett (1837), Catalan (1865), Pillet (1887) or Barbiani (1897), were more concerned with standard examples, than with all the variants which had fascinated sixteenth and seventeenth century artists. The main contribution of the twentieth century has been in developing a systematic framework for explaining these forms, e.g. Cundy and Rollett (1951 etc.) Irregular Objects Closely related to the regular and semi-regular solids, was a class of less regular and irregular objects. Sometimes, this was a real object, such as a lute, another form mastered in marquetry and painting practice (figs. 41.1-2) prior to appearing in treatises on perspective. Drer used a lute to illustrate the use of a variant type

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of perspectival window at the end of his Instruction in measurement (1525), an image later adapted by Barbaro (1568). Other versions of lutes occurred in Jamnitzer's manuscript (fig. 41.3), Vasari, Jr.'s (1595) manuscript and Sirigatti's (1596) treatise (fig. 41.4). Alternatively it involved a real object such as the mazzocchio, a Florentine hat, which subsequently became transformed into an imaginary shape. Once again, this form was found in painting practice prior to its appearing in treatises on perspective. Paolo Uccello used it in his Battle of San Romano, particularly in the Uffizi version, and in the Flood in the Chiostre Verde of Santa Maria Novella, in Florence, as well as in drawings now in the Uffizi. Piero della Francesca illustrated a simplified mazzocchio in his On perspective of painting. Leonardo (1400-1515) drew several versions in his notebooks. Serlio (1545) adapted the form for architectural purposes in his treatise on perspective. Lencker (1571) produced new variants. Jamnitzer (1568) produced two, interlocking, partial mazzocchio forms, while Barbaro (1568) devoted 16 variant figures to this shape making it a leitmotif of his treatise. Several of these recurred in Vasari, Jr. (1595), and Sirigatti (1596), and indeed the basic shape recurred in treatises over the next centuries, to become one of the forms with which Escher played in his work. To be sure, not every irregular shape was equally popular. In Nrnberg, Jamnitzer produced stellar shapes (cf. fig. 37.3), including piles thereof, combinations of pyramids, hexagonal towers, interlocking quadrangles, crosses, and even a sea shell. Some of these recurred in Lautensack (1564), Vasari Jr. (e.g., fig. 37.4, 1595), Sirigatti (1596) and Pfintzing (1599), while others were not taken up by later authors. One extraordinary polygonal shape, by the PP Master of Ferrara in the 1470's (fig. 40.1), which looks like a prototype for one of Leonardo da Vinci's tanks, was taken up by Barbaro in the manuscript version of his treatise, but not published until the twentieth century.28 One of the most popular of these shapes was a four dimensional cross, which Leonardo da Vinci sketched in his Codex Arundel (fol.223v, 1508). It recurred in Drer's Dresden Sketchbook, in a manuscript by Jamnitzer (fig. 38.1) and a drawing by Stoer (fig. 39.4). In the seventeenth century, it was found in authors such as Marolois (1614), Halt (fig. 38.2, 1625) and Dubreuil (1642-1649). It remained a familiar theme in eighteenth century treatises, sometimes occurring in unfamiliar contexts as in Kirby (fig. 38.3, 1755). Nineteenth century examples included Gennerich (1853). In the twentieth century the form was adapted by Dali (fig. 38.4) while becoming a symbol for both the international Red Cross and the fourth dimension in art.29 The four dimensional cross was itself a variant of the ordinary cross, which was equally popular (e.g. figs. 37.3-4, fig. 39.3) and, in turn, a variant of the more universal theme of beams and columns, which had its own rich pictorial tradition, as witnessed, for instance, by two examples from Dubreuil's popular text (figs. 40.1-3). Such examples are the more interesting because they illustrate the

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interplay between geometrical and architectural themes. Indeed there were a number of irregular objects, which might conveniently be classed under either or both headings. One was chairs. Giorgio Vasari, Jr., was perhaps to first to consider the perspectival problems of chairs from different points of view in his manuscript treatise (fig. 42.1, 1595). In the seventeenth century, Dubreuil popularized this theme of chairs, (fig. 42.2, 1642-1649), while Nicron (fig. 42.3, 1646) explored its anamorphic possibilities. This prospect has continued to fascinate artists into the twentieth century including Ames (fig. 42.4), and more recently, Berset (fig. 42.5, 1985). Stairs constituted another such theme, and here a few examples will serve to indicate another popular topic which persisted through the centuries. Circular stairs, for instance, became a common theme in treatises on perspective and were illustrated by Rodler (1531), Cousin (1560), Lautensack (1564), Jamnitzer (1568), Androuet Du Cerceau (1576), in double form by Danti (fig. 43.1, 1583), Vredeman de Vries (1604), Heinecke (fig. 43.2, 1727) and Frzier (1739) among others. The same motif also occurred in painting practice as in Peale's Staircase Group (fig. 43.3, 1795). Regular stairs were no less popular. Here there was a fascination with presenting them from unexpected angles, which often introduced ambiguities as to what was up and what was down: a theme that intrigued Vredeman de Vries (fig. 43.4, 1604) and has continued to intrigue artists in our century such as Escher who applied it not only to stairs but to waterways (fig. 43.5, 1961). Human Form The quest to impose geometrical regularity onto irregular forms extended to the human form. It was found that, while simple geometrical shapes required information from only two viewpoints, above and in front (i.e., ground plan and elevation), complex organic objects required at least four viewpoints (above, below, frontal and lateral), in order to arrive at a correct perspectival view. Piero della Francesca illustrated this principle with respect to a human head in On perspective of painting (c. 1480), showing the complications that arose when a head tilted upwards was viewed from below.30 According to Lomazzo, these problems must have been popular in Milan in the last decades of the fifteenth century, for we are told that both Foppa and Bramante wrote on the quadrature of the body--human and horse.31 We know that Leonardo devoted considerable attention to the use of perspective in his anatomical studies.32 He was also concerned with the geometry of movement in the human body as witnessed by the Codex Huygens (fig. 68.5), and a later treatise by Thomas Coke (figs. 68.6-7). In his manuscripts, Leonardo also outlined a simplified approach, which may have been the source of Drer's diagrams in his Four books on human proportion (fig. 68.1, 1528). The same Drer, also offered a more pragmatic solution to the problem: use of a perspectival window. With Beham (1528) and Schn (fig. 18.3, 1538) human and animal proportions and their geometrical forms became an independent theme, leading to treatises

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such as Bracelli (fig. 68.4, 1625). Nonetheless, the connection with treatises on perspective continued in Germany with Lautensack (1564) and in Italy with Barbaro (1568) who devoted the eighth chapter of his treatise to measures of the human body beginning with the proportions of a young man taken from Vitruvius. Barbaro also integrated the foreshortened figures of hands from Piero's and Drer's works for his own purposes (fig. 68.2). Meanwhile, the perspectival foreshortening of the entire human body was a problem again solved in painting practice long before it became a topic in the treatises. Paolo Uccello dealt with it in the slain soldiers in all three versions of his Battle of San Romano (London, National Gallery; Paris, Louvre; Florence, Uffizi, 1456), as did Mantegna with the putti in the oculus of the Camera degli Sposi, at Mantua (fig. 70.2, 1473) and the Dead Christ (Milan, Brera, 1480, fig. 70.1). In the treatises the problem was taken up in the Codex Huygens (fig. 70.4), which served as the source of an extraordinary sheet33 by Carlo Urbino (fig. 70.5), variants of which were popularized by Dubreuil (1649) and Houten (1705). Jean Cousin, le jeune's Book of portraiture (1595), the first published treatise which dealt systematically with perspective and human proportions (e.g. fig. 70.3), enjoyed at least a dozen editions in the seventeenth, and five further issues in the eighteenth century. Perspective and anatomy, a combination which fascinated Leonardo, inspired little interest in his successors. Indeed anatomy books tended to steer an independent course. There were exceptions of course, as, for instance, Cheselden, who regularly used perspectival windows in preparing his anatomical illustrations and recently there have been at least two authors who have dealt specifically with anatomy and perspective: Oliver (1972) and Smith (1984). Letters Letters of the alphabet were yet another irregular geometrical form, which became a theme in treatises on perspective. Some early authors notably, Pacioli (1509), Drer (1525), Tory (1529), and Serlio (1545) dealt with both perspective and calligraphy without discussing possible links between them. Lencker, by contrast, devoted an entire book to the subject, Perspective of letters (1567, 1695) which, as he explained in his title involved a clear instruction how one can render perspectivally in a plane all the letters of the entire alphabet, in antique or Roman letters in many a kind and position. In the seventeenth century Halt (1625) continued this theme. De Bry (fig. 39.1) produced more ornamental variants combining letters and human forms. Haesel (fig. 39.3) combined letters and regular solids in a striking title page. But these were exceptions. By 1700, letters were no longer a significant theme in treatises on perspective.

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Scenography Among architectural themes in treatises on perspective, scenography was amongst the most complex because its meaning was unclear. One interpretation, obviously based on the passage in Vitruvius cited earlier (p. ), equated scenography with perspectival stage design, whence the discussions of perspectival scenes for theatres by Serlio (1544), Barbaro (1568), Danti (1583) and Guidobaldo del Monte (1600). During the sixteenth century, scenography in this sense was discussed only in Italian treatises and even here there were ambiguities. For, when Serlio considered perspectival foreshortening in this context, he referred to "sciographies," thus perpetuating a Renaissance confusion between sciographia and scenographia.34 Serlio (1544), who was the first to include a chapter on scenography in a treatise on perspective, provided a cross-section and view of a typical stage and auditorium, several illustrations of stairs, plus examples of comic, tragic (fig. 81.3) and satiric stage sets. Barbaro (1568), reprinted Serlio's woodcuts of these three kinds of stage sets, and reported briefly on the methods of Pompeo P(i)edemonte to make painted scenes appear as if they were real buildings. Danti (1583), criticized Serlio's approach, mentioned that the three kinds of sets had been dealt with sufficiently elsewhere, offered his own technical advice, and alluded to examples of Florentine stage practice such as the comedy presented at the ducal palace in 1569, on the occasion of the visit of Archduke Charles of Austria. Guidobaldo del Monte (1600), devoted the last book of his great treatise to a more detailed technical account of perspectival stage design. The seventeenth century saw the development of more specialized treatises on stage scenery including Sabbatini (1637) and Chiaramonti (1675), some of which remained in manuscript form, e.g. Gallacini (1641) and Aleotti (16__). Architects, such as Furttenbach (1604), helped spread these ideas to the North. The Jesuits also played a significant role in this process. Their efforts at politics through education involved the use of theatre. Accordingly, Dubreuil's well known treatise (1642-1649), contained a section on perspectival scenery. Even more famous in this regard was the Jesuit, Pozzo's treatise (1693-1700) with editions in Latin, Italian, English, German, French and even Chinese (1729, 1735) and Russian (1737). From the outset, these perspectival scenes had been connected with court life and as such were designed to reflect princely grandeur and magnificence. As the courts of Europe evolved in the direction of absolutist states, the magnificence and splendour of the performances blossomed accordingly and reached its heights in the eighteenth century through the stage settings of individuals such as Juvarra (1710) and families such as the Bibiena, particularly Ferdinando (1703, 1711, 1725) and Giuseppe (fig. 79.2, 1740). The latter eighteenth and the nineteenth centuries brought a spread of these ideas to more public theatres and treatises on perspective, such as Petitot (1758) or La Gournerie (1884), frequently had a chapter devoted to these problems. There were

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also specialized treatises on perspectival stage design, including Landriani (1815, 1818, 1827), Taccani (1825), Cocchi (1851, 1855) and Burmester (1884), as well as collections of stage scenery such as Sanquirico (1832, etc.). The twentieth century has brought a few more specialist treatises on perspective in scenography including Arola y Sala (1920, 1922), Sonrel (1943) and Morgan (1979). Meanwhile, scenography sometimes had other meanings. Vitruvius, in another passage mentioned earlier, referred to three types of architectural drawings, ichnographia, orthographia and scenographia, which were commonly interpreted to mean ground-plan, elevation and perspectival view respectively. Scenography, thus became associated with architecture and had wider connotations to mean perspective generally. Hence Plerin's treatise, originally entitled, On artificial perspective (1505), appeared subsequently as Treatise on artificial perspective or scenographic architecture (1535, 1583) and On artificial perspective or scenography (1599). Vredeman de Vries also assumed these connotations, when he entitled his work Scenography, or perspective, as the ordinary painter calls buildings which have been drawn optically. Occasionally, this wider context was not acknowledged, but nonetheless assumed. For instance, Barbaro (1568), headed part four of his book on the practice of perspective: "In which one deals with scenography, that is the description of scenes,"35 but dealt therein, not only with stage design but also with the five orders of columns and perspectival problems relating to architecture in general. Interiors We have already shown that the mastery of perspective with respect to interiors evolved in painting practice largely independent of the textbooks. Even so, it is useful to recall that interiors constituted a minor theme in the treatises on perspective. With respect to sacred interiors, Plerin, (1505) was the first (fig. 10.3-4). In the generation that followed, Rodler (1531) offered another example (fig. 16.4). It is noteworthy that during the sixteenth century no Italian treatises included sacred interiors among their illustrations. Vredeman de Vries (1604), provided one of the first detailed engravings of a church interior (fig. 17.1). In the eighteenth century, an important treatise in this regard was Heinecke (1727), which gave general views of church interiors (fig. 19.1) and detailed views of confessionals, etc. (fig. 19.2). Isolated drawings of church interiors remained not uncommon in treatises on perspective until the end of the nineteenth century as witnessed, for example, by Guiot (fig. 19.3, 1845), or La Gournerie (fig. 19.4, 1884). Secular interiors were a more popular theme in the treatises. Again, Plerin (1505), was the first to include a view of a room (fig. 66.1). The work edited by Rodler (1531), contained a number of rooms, including artists' workrooms, a study (fig. 67.1), a bedroom and a small assembly hall. Lautensack (1564) included a larger meeting place. Vredeman de Vries (1604) provided a rather luxurious vision of a contemporary bed-sitter (fig. 66.3). Dubreuil (1642-1649) preferred to strip rooms

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down to their essential lines (fig. 66.2). By the eighteenth century, it was common for perspective treatises to include an interior and these increasingly reflected the taste of the time, for example, in Bischoff's (1741) living room (fig. 67.2). By the early nineteenth century, such interiors had become veritable period pieces, as shown by Wood (fig. 67.3, 1809). A recent example by Brtschi (fig. 67.4, 1976) confirms that rooms in perspective texts continue to reflect the taste of the day. Quadratura There were particular problems involved with paintings on ceilings seen from below (di sotto in su). Again, artists, such as Mantegna (fig. 70.2), had mastered the difficulties in painting practice, long before they were discussed in treatises on perspective. Indeed, the first discussion occurred in Danti (1583), who distinguished between flat and concave ceilings, and cited a number of examples, such as Vignola at Caprarola (fig. 72.2, cf. 72.1), Giovanni Alberti dal Borgo in the Palazzo de Mattei, and Tomaso Laureti in the Bolognese palace of Signore Tasonne and Signor Pompeo Vizani.36 The same year as Danti, there appeared in Vienna an extraordinary collection of 75 examples of such ceilings by Has (fig. 73.3, 1583). Vredeman de Vries (1604), offered examples both of scenes seen from below and scenes seen from above (di su in sotto, fig. 72.1), again without explanation. The Jesuit, Dubreuil (1642-1649), was among the first who set out to clarify the principles involved. Another member of the order, Pozzo, used his practical experience in painting the ceiling of Il Ges, in Rome, as a starting point for explanations, in his famous Perspective of artists and architects (figs. 73.1-2, 1693-1700). In the course of the eighteenth century, such explanations became a common theme, particularly in perspective treatises associated with architecture such as Decker (1711), Bretez (1751) and Kirby (1755). The continued fascination of such problems in our century is witnessed by Escher (fig. 73.4 cf. 73.3). Columns The five orders of columns were probably the most popular architectural theme in the perspective treatises. It evolved in the early fifteenth century as part of a growing interest in the measurement of Roman antiquities. Manetti, for instance, recorded how Brunelleschi and Donatello together: made rough drawings of almost all the buildings in Rome and in many places beyond the walls, with measurements of the widths and heights as far as they were able to ascertain.... When possible they estimated the heights [by measuring] from base to base for the height and similarly [they estimated the heights of] the entablatures and roofs from the foundations. They drew the elevations on strips of parchment graphs with numbers and symbols which Filippo alone understood.... Filippo spent many years at this work. He found a number of differences among the beautiful and rich elements of the buildings - in the masonry, as well as in the types of columns, bases, capitals, architraves, friezes,

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cornices and pediments, and differences between the bases of temples and the diameters of the columns; by means of close observation he clearly recognized the characteristics of each type: Ionic, Donic, Tuscan, Corinthian and Attic.37 According to Manetti, Brunelleschi and Donatello were the only individuals interested in these problems at the time.38 But this soon changed. Starting with Piero della Francesca (c. 1484), columns also became a topic in treatises on perspective. Following the rules of Vitruvius and Alberti, Piero was concerned specifically with a Roman Corinthian column, which he illustrated with four diagrams of bases and three of capitals. Francesco di Giorgio Martini, in his Codex Saluzziano, which also dealt with perspective, included a number of drawings of columns and bases. Meanwhile, Vitruvius offered a framework for a more systematic study of columns, as witnessed by the editions of Fra Giocondo (1511), Cesariano (1521), Caporali (1536) and Ryff (1547). By the 1530's, artists such as Peter Fltner, Jacques Prevost, Sebastiano Serlio and Agostino Veneziano were producing engravings of ancient bases, columns, capitals and architraves. These were sometimes bound together in haphazard fashion, as in a Wolfenbttel volume entitled 93 engravings with studies of columns (1540): cf. a Washington volume by Androuet Du Cerceau (1580?). Inspired by Vitruvius, Serlio organized his material in a treatise specifically devoted to the five orders of columns entitled General rules (1537). This was soon translated into Dutch by Pieter Coecke van Aelst (1539), and was integrated as book four of Serlio's works of architecture. In Switzerland, this idea of a specialized treatise devoted to the five orders of columns was pursued by Blum (1550), whose work went through various editions (e.g. 1596, 1627, 1635, 1674) and served as the basis for later treatises by Kaessmann (1630) and Erasmus (1667). Blum's illustrations combined geometrical ground-plans and perspectival elevations (e.g. 44.1). The most popular of all works on columns was Giacomo Barozzi, il Vignola's Rules of the five orders of architecture (1563), later versions of which stressed the use of perspective in the form of shades and shadows, with editions in Italian (1808, 1814, 1818, 1831, 1832, 1850); French (1786, 1823, 1827, 1828, 1857, 1865, 1897), and English (1902, 1905, 1910, 1912, 1923, 1931, 1940). This aspect was also stressed in a treatise by Hondius, where the columns were rendered in perspective by Vredeman de Fries (1617, 1620, 1628, 1638). In addition to these specialized treatises, columns featured regularly as a theme in perspective treatises. For instance, Jean Cousin (1560) provided full-page illustrations with a geometrical and a perspectival ground plan as well as combined perspectival views for each of the five orders. Barbaro (1568), who preferred to illustrate elements such as bases, capitals and architraves individually, devoted 21 diagrams to the subject. A shorter treatment occurred in treatises by Danti (e.g. fig. 82.5, 1563), Vasari, Jr. (1595) and Sirigatti (1596). Fascination with the

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perspectival effects of columns continued throughout the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. Sometimes, as in the case of Nicron (fig. 44.2, 1646), this occurred as a chapter in a more general treatise on perspective. Alternatively, as in the case of Viola-Zanini (1629), Bosse (1664, 1684) or Bosboom (1686), a specialized treatise on the architectural orders was involved. Illustrations varied considerably. Bosse (1664) produced geometrical ground-plans and elevations, which he combined with their perspectival equivalents (fig. 44.3). His opponent in the French academy, Grgoire Huret (1678), preferred a more abstract approach with multiple views of a given object (fig. 45.4). Pozzo (16931700) was considerably more systematic. He related geometrical ground-plan and elevation, perspectival ground-plan and elevation along with a perspectival view of the appropriate part of a column or architrave (figs. 45.1-2). The clarity and elegance of Pozzo's approach made his text one of the most influential works of the eighteenth century (e.g. 1702, 1708, 1711, 1717, 1737, 1758, 1764, 1800, 1810). Also popular was Schubler (1719, 1732, 1735, 1749, 1758). Authors such as Bretez (fig. 44.4, 1751) provided illustrations from unexpected points of view, but added little in terms of method. Eighteenth century treatises characteristically gave both abstract and realistic versions of various parts of columns, as in Jeaurat (1750, 1760, 1770) or Kirby (fig. 45.3, 1755-1761). By contrast, early nineteenth century authorsn, such as Edwards (1803-1805) preferred to emphasize only abstract essentials. Specialized treatises on columns continued until about the middle of the nineteenth century, e.g. Lagardette (1797, 1823, 1833, 1835, 1851, 1853), Nicholson (1834, 1839) and Rebout (1845), but it continued in reprints of Vignola, in general treatises, and other genres of architectural treatise. Ruins As noted above, the study of columns was but one manifestation of a larger concern with ancient monuments which began with Brunelleschi and Donatello and, for which, Alberti's Description of the city of Rome (1430-1440) offered a methodical approach. Even so, systematic treatises were not immediately forthcoming. Francesco di Giorgio Martini's Codex Saluzziano included a number of monuments in no particular order as was also the case with Bramante (c. 14951500), Maarten Heemskerck (1532-1536), Francesco de Hollanda (c.1538-1539), and even Serlio (1545-1547), the first published treatise to include ruins, which also dealt with perspective. In exceptional cases, an author such as Cousin (1560), would include examples of ruins in a treatise on perspective. But unlike other themes which became part of the ordinary repertoire of these treatises, ruins effectively became an independent genre from the outset. Androuet Du Cerceau (1545 etc.), was among the first to publish books which specialized in perspectival ruins. These works in Orlans and Paris were soon complemented by De Jode (1550), Cock (1551) and Vredeman de Vries (1560) in

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Antwerp; Pittoni (1551) and Palladio (1554) in Venice and Labacco (1550) in Rome. In the next generations, with Lafrry (1575), Du Perac (1575), Cartaro (1578), Stevens (1600) and Maggi (1601), Rome became and remained the centre for this genre of views (vedute). The illustrations in these books went in two different directions. One was archaeological in spirit, increasingly treated the ruins as objects to be recorded for their own sake, and led via Heemskerck, Francesco de Hollanda and Cock, to Du Perac (fig. 59.1, 1575), Stevens (fig. 85.1, 1600), and eventually to Piranesi (fig. 59.2, 1750), whose work has rightly been compared with actual photographs of the scenes (fig. 59.3). Another strand had little interest in the ruins for their own sake, but used them as a springboard for the imagination (fig. 89.1-4), which led not only to idealized ruins (see below 2.4), but also dovetailed with a more general theme of idealized buildings. Idealized Buildings There was a natural link between perspective and idealized buildings for the simple reason that such buildings conformed more readily to the systematic geometrical grids imposed by perspective. As we have shown (see above p. ) such buildings were there from the outset. They dominated Bellini's Sketchbooks (figs. 6.1-2, 9.3-4, 11.2, 82.1), and in painting practice, as characterized by the Baltimore, Berlin and Urbino (fig. 96.3) panels. But these were exceptions in the early period. Even in the sixteenth century interest in the theme varied enormously. In Germany, for instance, where the emphasis was on individual objects, particularly regular solids, such idealized buildings were rare, although authors such as Lencker sometimes included an architectural example, as if it were a variant of the semi-regular solids. In the course of the sixteenth century, throughout Europe, and particularly in Italy and the Low Countries, the Vitruvian tradition played a significant role in the development of this theme, commentators providing their often phantastic reconstructions of ancient and contemporary buildings, notably Cesariano (fig. 80.2, 82.1, 1521), who directly influenced Caporali (1536) and Ryff (1547). Even more seminal was the work of four individuals: Serlio, Palladio, Androuet Du Cerceau and Vredeman de Vries. Some of Serlio's examples were almost certainly connected with his interest in scenography, and included idealized buildings with colonnaded archways (fig. 82.3), as well as rows of buildings. Others served as instances of his architectural drawing methods (fig. 84.1). However, the majority of examples occurred in his other books in architecture, rather than in his second book devoted specifically to perspective. These included idealized ancient and contemporary buildings, both churches, such as Bramante's Tempietto (cf. fig. 96.4-5), and contemporary Venetian palaces and villas. Palladio took these themes considerably further, particularly in terms of existing and planned country villas. His systematic approach relating ground-plans, elevations and perspectival views made his work a classic which became all the more influential because it was subsequently adapted and transformed to suit English, French and other national tastes.

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Androuet Du Cerceau's collections of engravings provided a new repertoire of both idealized Roman ruins (fig. 9.1, 11.1, 86.2-5, 97.1) and contemporary buildings, some real, such as Bramante's Tempietto (fig. 46.5), some purely imaginary (fig. 29.3). His work on the most excellent buildings of France (1576-1579), gave versions of the great chateaux such as Annecy, Chenonceaux and Fontainebleau, which were a curious mixture of fact and fancy. The collections of Vredeman de Vries were also in this tradition, but with a greater emphasis on the imagination, visions of possible architectural environments, rather than careful records of existing ones (figs. 15.4-5, 87.1-2). As in the case of ruins, this repertoire of images of idealized buildings went in two quite different directions during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. On the one hand, it led to ever more realistic chateaux and buildings, such as Prelle (1660), and eventually to photographs of famous monuments. On the other hand, it led in a utopian direction with authors such Perret (1601 etc.) who produced extra-ordinary edifices and towns in a roughly parallel perspective, or later designers such as Decker (fig. 93.2, 1711), who gave artists' conceptions of possible buildings appropriate for potentates and the like. Idealized buildings also remained on theme in treatises on perspective such as Dubreuil (1642-1649), a tradition which continued into the nineteenth century (fig. 62.1), although the interplay between ideal and real elements became ever more subtle (figs. 62.2-3, see below 2.4). Towns As mentioned earlier (p. ), views of towns became a regular feature in the backgrounds of fifteenth century paintings. By the sixteenth century, these came into the foreground, as with the views of Innsbruck attributed to Drer (figs. 60.12). The treatise attributed to Rodler (1531), was one of the first to include such townscapes in a work on perspective (fig. 60.3-4). Military interests also played a role, spies being sent out to sketch a town about to be attacked (fig. 58.1, cf. 58.4), as did documentary concerns: artist's sitting in church towers to make views of battles serving as the sixteenth century version of reporter's cameras. These concerns aside, in Italy, with the exception of views of Rome such as Ferrario (166_), there was little interest in this theme. In France, Prelle (1666-) published a collection of views of Paris, chateaux of France and views of Rome. In Britain, during the eighteenth century, this theme became more important. Buck (1736) published proposals for six perspective views of Canterbury, Rochester and Chicester and in the next decade (1745?) of York and the towns of Leeds and Wakefield. Smith (1750) published perspective views of the chief towns in County Cork. Anonymous views of Oxford (1753) and Shrewsbury (1756) also appeared. In the nineteenth century, views of towns became a regular feature of treatises on perspective. Sometimes, as in the case of Edwards (1805), this involved more than one view of some city (fig. 64.1) or of buildings

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encroaching into a landscape (fig. 65.2). Sometimes, as with Wood (1809), fashionable views of London were involved, including Portland Place and Hill Street, (fig. 65.1, 3). Authors such as Tilscher (1865) provided a series of views of a given park (fig. 65.4-5). In the twentieth century there has been at least one book, Vlaardigen (1967) devoted specifically to the problem of drawing townscapes. Landscapes In many treatises there was no clear separation between townscapes and landscapes, as is vividly illustrated in the treatise by Edwards (1805). His engraving of houses on a hill (fig. 65.2), with its division down the middle, could be seen as a townscape on the left and a landscape on the right side. Indeed, most of Edward's illustrations involved architectural features positioned with varying degrees of prominence within a landscape (figs. 62.1-3, 63.1-3, 64.1), such that clear boundaries between townscape and landscape disappeared. This ambiguity had, in a sense, been present from the outset. Already in the sixteenth century, when authors put their buildings into context (fig. 61.3), or when Du Cerceau did so with his chateaux, the same ambiguity occurred. It arose also in connection with themes such as reflection, as in Dubreuil (fig. 50.1-2), or Robert (fig. 51.3-4), where town and country frequently appeared together. In the latter eighteenth century, landscape gradually emerged as an independent theme through individuals such as Werner, who extended the application of perspective to various aspects of the organic world: flowers (1765), four footed animals (1768) and humans (1768), as well as landscapes (1768) and views (1781). In the nineteenth century, Basoli (1810, 1830) made a collection of landscape views (paessaggio). In England, landscape often entered into the titles of treatises such as Orme's (1801) Rudiments of landscape drawing, or Noble's (1805) Practical perspective exemplified on landscapes. Subsequent examples included Wood (1814), Varley (1815), Nicholson (1820, 1823), Fielding (1839, 1852), Robert (fig. 51.3-4, 1895) and more recently, Vanderveken (1950). Gardens The theme of gardens was closely related to landscapes and in the sixteenth century overlapped also with other themes, such as ruins and idealized buildings. Androuet Du Cerceau, for instance, sometimes included reconstructions of ancient gardens in his views of Roman ruins (fig. 92.1) and, in like manner, included contemporary gardens in his views of modern chateaux and palaces. Vredeman de Vries was the first to publish collections of perspectival views of gardens (fig. 92.2), some of which involved adaptations of the five orders of columns (fig. 92.3). These prepared the way for an approach to nature as pure artifice, which authors such as Salomon de Caus completed, with the aid of automata, and other feats of engineering (fig. 98.1). Books on gardening from the seventeenth century

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onward frequently contained brief instructions concerning perspectival effects (see below 2.3). It was not until the eighteenth century that books concerned with perspectival views of specific gardens emerged in England, as for example, Serle's (1745) plan of Mr. Pope's garden, Chatelain's (1753) views of the buildings and gardens at Stowe or Chambers' (1763) views of Kew Gardens. The nineteenth century added books specifically devoted to creating perspectival gardens such as Vergnaud (1835) or Glindemann (1900). Nature Landscapes and gardens were in turn related to the theme of nature, which became a regular feature of treatises during the nineteenth century. Sometimes, as in the case of Nicholson (1820, 1923), the title referred explicitly to drawing and painting landscapes from nature. Frequently the reference was to nature in general, as in Thnot (1826, 1829), Krane-Matena (1840), Locock (1852) or Nicholls (1858). The influence of drawing academies and conflicting philosophies with respect to drawing instruction in schools, gave new connotations to nature (see below 1.4). For instance, some thinkers held that model drawing was a first step to drawing from nature. Others acted, as if nature involved drawing from artificial models of nature, more than actually drawing from life. Still others, such as Rosenbeck (1895), saw drawing from nature as a simple alternative to memory drawing. 7.CATEGORIES In addition to the above themes there were different categories or branches of perspective, which served as topics in the treatises, many of which subsequently evolved into independent genres of literature. These involved three sub-categories: alternative picture planes, technical applications and special effects, each of which will be considered in turn. Alternative picture planes Anamorphosis In linear perspective the picture plane is usually parallel with the plane in which objects are situated. In cases when objects are at right angles to the picture plane distortions occur. When done deliberately, as with the skull in Holbein's Ambassadors, the effect is termed anamorphosis. Seventeenth century authors used this term in a more general sense to include deliberate perspectival distortions produced by alternative picture planes, particularly cylindrical, conic and spherical ones. In the early treatises, anamorphosis was a topic specific to Italian texts. Piero della Francesca introduced it (c. 1480), with his famous example of an egg which became a sphere when viewed from below, as in his Brera altar. Leonardo da Vinci took up this theme in both the Manuscript A and Treatise of Painting. Even

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so, a clear knowledge of the principles cannot have spread quickly, for Barbaro (1680) continued to discuss it in a veiled manner in a chapter entitled: "a beautiful and secret part of perspective."39 Danti (1583), by contrast, gave clear descriptions of two basic anamorphic tricks.40 One, which may have been invented by Leonardo, involved the parts of a portrait being spread out on one surface of a series of triangular slats tilted such that the portrait could only be recognized when viewed in a correctly positioned mirror.41 The second case considered by Danti (1583), involved the face of a man which was greatly extended horizontally along the side wall of a peep show, and required that one viewed it from the side in order that it again appear normal. Anamorphic effects produced by a reclining human body have already been mentioend earlier under the theme of the human form, and were explored by the author of the Codex Huygens (fig. 70.4, 1560-1580), Cousin, le jeune (fig. 70.3, 1595, etc.), Carlo Urbino (fig. 70.5), Dubreuil (1642-1679) and Houten (1701). In the seventeenth century, Marolois (1614-1617) explored the effects of alternative picture planes, notably cylinders, V shapes and inverted V shapes. Vaulezard (1630) began a more systematic study of anamorphic effects produced in cylinders and cones. The Jesuits were fascinated by these problems as a manifestation of God's subtle laws of nature and for didactic reasons. Accordingly, Nicron (1638), wrote a first treatise devoted specifically to anamorphosis. His contemporary, Father Dubreuil, (1642-1649), popularized these findings in his textbook, as did the later Jesuit, Father Pozzo (1693-1700). Aside from new gadgets to produce some of these effects mechanically by Leupold (1713) and summaries in encyclopaedias, such as Martius (1797), the eighteenth century added nothing to the topic. Indeed the principles involved were increasingly discussed in separate publications devoted to conic, cylindrical and spherical perspective. Conic Perspective Ptolemy used conic projections in his Geography (fig. ), a theme which Schubert (1784) pursued and which has continued to interest twentieth century thinkers such as Arden-Close (1925). Vaulezard (1630), the first author to devote a treatise to the subject, began a tradition of discussing conic and cylindrical projection in tandem, which continued with Le Poivre (1704), Morton (1830), in the context of descriptive geometry with Leroy (1834, 1837, 1846, etc.) and more recently with Ridderhof (1925) and Giovanardi (1934). The topic was implicit in more specialized treatises on conic sections by Pascal (1640), La Hire (1673) and others. Since the late nineteenth century, there have been several French authors who have written specifically on conic perspective, namely, Lebon (1887), Aubert (1895), Raull (1921), Faling (1955) and Fradin (1966, 1980). But the topic has held most fascination in Spain with works by Robira y Rabassa (1910), Adroer (1953), Perez Asensio (1964), Carreras Soto (1960, 1975), Sandoval Guerra (1967), Bonet

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Minguet (1968, 1979), Martinez La Madrid (1968), Corbella Barrios (1968), Fuentes Alonso (1973), Grajales Carbonnel (1977), Lopez Gonzalez (1962) and Martin Morejon (1983). Meanwhile, Adams (1976) has explored a method of tetraconic perspective to approximate visual perception. Cylindrical Perspective In cartography, Mercator initiated a serious interest in cylindrical projection (fig. ). However, for many authors on perspective, optics provided the first incentive to studying this alternative, namely, concern with producing a picture plane equidistant from the plane of vision. Leonardo explored this problem in Manuscript A and elsewhere in his notebooks, which subsequently inspired the author of the Codex Huygens (1560-1580) and Cardi (1612). In seventeenth century France, Vaulezard (1630, etc.), explored the anamorphic potentials of cylindrical perspective, a theme which Dubreuil (1642-1649), pursued. Bosse (1643, 1653, 1660, etc.), on the other hand, was more concerned with distinguishing between cylindrical projections, which he associated with vision, and the plane projections of linear perspective. In the eighteenth century, Pozzo's influential treatise focussed interest back to anamorphic aspects of the problem. The nineteenth century saw examination of geometrical aspects, in the context of descriptive geometry, by authors such as Leroy (1834, etc.) and Bailby (1976), as well as a renewed interest in optical connections through authors such as Herdman (1853) and Ware (1882, 1883, 1894, 1895, 1900, etc.). The twentieth century has seen continued interest in cylindrical perspective by Garnier (1934) and Hammerschmidt (1940), with short sections in treatises on perspective of Abbott (1950) and Vero (1978). Spherical Perspective Sixteenth and seventeenth century treatises on perspective almost always avoided questions of spherical perspective, except in connection with astrolabes (see below p. ), but by the eighteenth century this theme emerged with respect to projection problems in astronomy and geography with contributions by Karsten (1768, 1773), Wright (1772), Kautsch (1784) and Schubert (1784, 1788, 1789, 1790) and later by Germain (1866). In the nineteenth century, spherical projections were subsumed as a branch of descriptive geometry by Davies (1826, 1832, etc.), Lacroix (1840), Leroy (1850) and Church (1868, etc.). In connection with optics, there has been some confusion between spherical and cylindrical perspective, the sphere of vision frequently being represented simply as a circle equidistant from the eye. This confusion led Drer (1525), for instance, to adopt his method of negative perspective, whereby objects further from the eye were represented as larger in order that their apparent size remain constant. Serlio (1545) took up this principle, as did Barbaro (1568) and thereafter it became a commonplace in both treatises on perspective and architecture (cf. fig. 2.1). In the

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nineteenth century, Hauck (1879), believed that the subjective curvatures of Greek architecture corresponded to spherical theories of vision. These possible links between architecture and optics were also touched upon by Maertens (1884) and taken up seriously by Borissavlievich (1921, etc.), who gradually evolved a personal theory of spherical perspective with respect to architecture. Connections between spherical projections and optics also arose from unexpected quarters such as landscape gardening. Seventeenth century authors, such as Tacquet (1668, etc.) had suggested that trees should be planted in rows of half hyperbolas in order to appear parallel. This problem was taken up by an anonymous author (1719) and Varignon (1720), only to be challenged by Bouguer (1755). Debates concerning curvature of parallel rows continued in the twentieth century with experiments by Hillebrand (1902), Blumenfeld (1913) and Luneberg (1947). In the nineteenth century, Helmholtz (1866, 1896), developed a new demonstration involving a curved checkerboard to illustrate subjective curvatures. Two other important demonstrations evolved: one using the vault of the heavens, e.g. Reimann (1890-1891) and Zoth (1899), the other using the apparent bending of light from lighthouses on the horizon, e.g. Bernstein (1904). The twentieth century has seen an increasing interest in relating spherical projections of optical theories with painting practice. Deininger, in a lecture to the central organization of Austrian architects on 15 August 1914, outlined what he believed was a new theory of artistic painters' perspective, and its practical results, in which he claimed that: only (on such) a spherical surface is it possible to represent graphically all those lengths, i.e., all the perspectival dimensions in their correct relations and proper sizes.42 In New Hampshire, an artist and a physicist, Ames and Proctor (1921) did experiments together: for the purpose of determining the exact nature of the image received by the human eye in the belief that a knowledge of its nature would be of aid in suggesting how the various parts of a picture should be painted to give a technically pleasing and artistic effect.43 Birker (1923), took out two patents for a mechanical means of producing spherical perspective. Stark (1928) and Hegenwald (1932), wished to use the spherical surface of the retina as the basis for their theories of spherical perspective, but were hesitant in their application thereof. An important book, in Canada, by Jobin (1932), argued that with the development of skyscrapers one needed to apply perspective to the vertical as well as the horizontal axis. In part two Jobin set out: to show that the curved line, determined by the principles of the optical sphere, today constitutes a theory of vision superior to that of the straight line established by the principles of the optical cone.44 He illustrated his theories with an impressive series of illustrations using a four point, spherical perspective. Similar ideas were explored two years later by

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Garnier (1934) and Serrano (1934, 1952). These works were virtually ignored, however, and it was over a decade before a next wave of interest was initiated, this time largely by architects, i.e. La Grassa (1947), Giorgi (1947), Mohrle (1949) and Zanetti (1951) and an opthalomologist, Graf (1949). These again had no sustained impact. Another decade passed before the matter was taken up afresh by Barre and Flocon (1962, 1964, 1968). This work excited more attention and was eventually translated into German (1983), Spanish (1985) and English (1988). During the 1970's problems of spherical perspective inspired the imagination of American artists. Hansen (1973), who has since translated Barre and Flocon into English, developed a five point spherical perspective, which he termed hyperbolic linear perspective. Independently, Termes developed 4, 5 and 6 point spherical perspective methods (fig.**). Turner (1976) and Casas (1983) developed alternative methods to accommodate the complexities of visual perception. An exhibition by Marcia Clark (1988) attested that a number of artists, notably Jacqueline Lima, have been developing their own empirical methods. At the same time there have been developments elsewhere. In Buenos Aires, Reggini (e.g.1973) has written a number of articles on the problem. In London, Shaw (1977) has devoted an important thesis to spherical perspective. In Paris, Blotti (1986, 1987) has created a series of demonstrations including spherical and other alternative projection methods for the Muse des sciences et de l'industrie de la Villette. There have also been books by Elias (1973), Fuentes Alonso (1975), and Bonbon (1983). Indeed, these interests are leading to new links between objective and subjective elements (see below pp. ** ). TECHNICAL APPLICATIONS Various methods of parallel perspective were developed for military purposes and different types of technical drawing (e.g. geometrical, linear, machine, etc., cf. 1.4 below). These methods included cavalier and military perspective, orthogonal or parallel perspective, cabinet perspective, axonometric perspective with its three branches, isometric, dimetric and trimetric, and multiview perspective. Because a number of these distinctions only emerged in the twentieth century, historical discussion thereof must be approximate. Cavalier and Military Perspective Today, cavalier perspective is defined as a dimetric projection and distinguished from military perspective, which can be either dimetric or trimetric (cf. above, p. and fig. ). In the sixteenth century, these distinctions were not made. Military perspective was an ambiguous term. On the one hand, it could refer loosely to presentation drawings designed to impress patrons by artist engineers such as Francesco di Giorgio Martini and Leonardo da Vinci. This led to commemorative paintings of battles such as those of Giorgio Vasari in the Palazzo Vecchio, books with elaborate military drawings, such as Perret (1601, 1602) and a tradition of military examples in regular treatises on perspective such as Androuet Du Cerceau

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(1576), Marolois (1614) and Dubreuil (1642-1649). On the other hand, it also referred to simplified methods adapted for military purposes, as outlined by Cataneo (1567), or Specklin (fig. 58.4, 1589). At the turn of the seventeenth century, Romano (1595), Hulsius (fig. 58.1, 1605), and Faulhaber (1610) adapted the perspectival window for these purposes. But in the heat of a battle there was frequently not time for even these methods. As a result, practitioners developed rough and ready methods of parallel perspective, technically inaccurate, yet sufficient to convey essential information concerning a site.45 It was particularly in France that these new methods evolved, heralded by practical theorists such as Hrigone (1634, 1642). Bourdin (1635), was the first to devote a published treatise to this new kind of military perspective and the Jesuit, Dubreuil soon incorporated it as an appendix to the second edition of his influential Practical perspective (1663). The following year analogous methods were outlined by Luders (1664). In the mid eighteenth century, Dupain de Montesson, wrote a basic treatise which related military perspective directly to professional surveying and drawing techniques (1750, 1760, 1712, 1790, 1799, etc.), followed by The art of drawing up plans (1763, 1792, 1804, 1811) and a text for officers (1774). Other treatises were by Dupuis (1773), Keller (1856) and Philibert (1898). The nineteenth century brought a number of works which related cavalier perspective to axonometric and isometric perspective, including Adhmar (1852, 1866, 1875), an anonymous author (1867), which have continued in our century with Corsanego Wauters-Horcasitas (1926), Labalette (1927), Bonet Minguet (1944), Gomes de los Reyes and Cano de la Torre (1966) and Alonso Misol (19__). Breithof (1881, 1905), in his treatise on cavalier perspective, compared the advantages of linear perspective to those of orthogonal projection methods. Authors who wrote specifically on cavalier perspective included Ciani (1900, 1903), Darcheville (1914), Carreras Soto (1943), Breton (1970) and Garcia Gutierrez (1970). Orthographic Perspective The evidence of the early treatises suggests that orthographic or parallel perspective began less as an alternative, and more as a complementary method to linear perspective, particularly in the case of complex organic objects for which a simple ground plan and elevation did not suffice. Piero della Francesca (c. 1480) and Leonardo da Vinci (e.g.W 12605r, c.1490-1492) used it in their representations of human heads. Gauricus (1504) used a variant. These principles were adapted by Drer (fig. 68.1, 1525) and further standardized by Barbaro, (fig. 68.2, 1568). These principles were then extended to the entire human body by Cousin, le jeune (fig. 70.3, 1595, etc.) and Carlo Urbino (fig. 70.5,c.1580). However, it was not until the mid-eighteenth century that thinkers in London began to describe orthographic perspective as an independent method. Emerson (1749, 1769), for instance, consciously compared orthographic, stereographic and

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gnomonic projections. Walker (1777) wrote one of the earliest treatises devoted specifically to this method. In the mid-nineteenth century, Binns (1857, 1961, 1863, etc.), produced a standard textbook on orthogonal perspective which went through thirteen editions by 1899. Other authors included Bradley (1861, 1862), Davidson (1868, 1873), Plunkett (1885) and Carroll (1888). In Germany, there were some works on orthographic perspective, e.g. Gerke (1881), Krger (1911), cf. Fliesen (1877, 1880), Reutter (1948); as was later the case in Italy, with authors such as Monti (1900), Magri Tilli (1967), Mondino (1968) and Bartoli (1975). In France these problems were usually classified under descriptive geometry (cf. fig. ) and drawing (dessin). In the United States, works entitled orthographic perspective were also the exception, e.g. Church (1911) or Ashley (1975), the topic usually being dealt with in various types of drawing books: geometrical, industrial, linear, machine, mechanical, etc. Parallel Perspective Raverta (1627), was probably the first to refer to parallel lines in connection with perspective in the title of a treatise. Even so, it was not until the mid-nineteenth century that German publications in Czechoslovakia referred specifically to parallel-perspective, e.g. Schnedar (1856, 1864) and Skuhersky (1958). The term soon spread to Austria with Klamminger (1865) and Barzala (1882) and Germany, where it was used by a number of authors including Mller (1865), Koutny (1867), Delabar (1870, 1888, 1893, 1907), Hauck (1888), Freyberger (1897, 1899, 1903), Hertzer (1902), Papperitz (1906), Vonderlinn (1920), Brunschwiler (1939), MayerSidd (1940) and Schumacher (1951). In the United States, there were some publications under this title by Noble (1886), Cooper (1900), Adler (1912) and Koller (1940). Elsewhere there were works by Werner (1904, 1908, 1915, 1923, 1930, 1935) and Lagerquist (1963) in Sweden; Ridderhof (1913, 1918, 1925) and Keulen (1957) in the Netherlands, and Kirchmayr (1935) in Italy. Axonometric Perspective Awareness that parallel perspective might be further divided began in the eighteenth century with preliminary distinctions between parallel, and military or cavalier perspective. The nineteenth century gradually brought formal distinctions. For instance, the term axonometric perspective made one of its earliest appearances in a bilingual title of a work by Engel (1854) in Berlin. Other German authors soon took up the term including Meyer (1855-1863), Weisbach (1857), Largiader (1858), Schmidt (1859), Hertel (1862), Weishaupt (1863), Sellar (1865), Butz (1870), Pelz (1870) and Beyel (1887). This trend has continued in our century with Vonderlinn (1905, 1920) who distinguished between right-angled (i.e. isometric) and oblique (dimetric, trimetric) axonometry; Schssler (1905), Papperitz (1906, 1916), Haase (1907), Meyer (1922), Pechwitz (1950), Berns (1962, 1968) and Thomae (1976).

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Use of the term was by no means restricted to Germany. It soon spread to Italy with Sella (1861), where there have been works since by Capelli (1905), Tomasinni (1943), Roversi (1945, 1948, 1949, 1952, 1954), Calloni (1948), and Aterini (1980). It reached England through an article in the Athenaeum (1865). In the next decades it spread to Sweden with Bergh (1872), the Netherlands with Versluys (188*) and later Thiel (1913) and Reynders (1951), as well as Denmark with Seidelin (1890) and Gjerding (1967), and Spain with an anonymous author (1867), Valenzuela (1896), Corsanego Wauters-Horcasitas (1926), Bonet Minguet (1944) and Garcia Gutierrez (1979). In the twentieth century, there have been further authors in Poland, Plamitzer (1925), Piotrowski (1956), Lange (1962) and Lewandowski (1973); the United States, e.g. Roever (1941) and Bartholemew (1944); Finland, Nystrom (1943) and Kivela (1979) and Portugal, e.g. Aires de Silva (1945). In addition to these texts where axonometric perspective was specifically mentioned in the title, there were numerous other works on drawing, architecture and mathematics which dealt with these problems. Axonometric perspective was, in turn, subdivided into three branches: isometric, dimetric and trimetric perspective (cf. above p. and fig. ). In Britain, during the Second World War special templates were used to produce these variants. While all three branches were discussed in books, only the first of these, namely, isometrical perspective inspired an independent literature. Isometrical Perspective The term isometrical perspective emerged some three decades before axonometric perspective, which was subsequently to become the more universal term. Isometrical perspective was developed as a formal method by Farish (1821, 1923) as a means of best conveying information about models of the more important machines used by British manufacturers at the time.46 In the decade that followed his ideas were spread by Bradley (1831), Jopling (1833, 1834, 1835, 1839, 1842) and Sopwith (1834, 1836, 1838), and were subsequently taken up by other English authors, including Heather (1851), who related isometrical perspective to Monge's descriptive geometry, Burn (1853, 1855), Atkinson (1860), Binns (1864), Davidson (1868, 1873), Spriggs (1871), Spanton (1895), Middleton (1919), who applied it to architecture and Parkinson (1953). Through the Oxford press, there was also a work by Dean (1933) in Australia. In Europe, isometrical perspective made no dramatic impact as an independent topic. Nonetheless, there were authors such as Mllinger (1840) in Switzerland; Adhmar (1852, 1866, 1875), Carnou (1880) and Labalette (1927) in France; an anonymous author (1867) in Spain; Versluys (188_) in the Netherlands, as well as Schmidt (1888), Grimshaw (1902) and Vogel (1902) in Germany. In the United States, by contrast, isometrical perspective inspired more interest than anywhere else. At the outset this was sparked by authors concerned with drawing, notably, Minifie (1849, 1851, 1855, 1857, 1868, 1873, 1875, 1877, 1882,

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1890), Appleton (1857, 1862, 1864, 1866, 1869), Beard (1858) and subsequently Klein (1869), Palmer (1894), Jamison (1911), Jameson (1932) and Locke (1981). But as early as 1860 Warren sought to put this discussion in a wider mathematical context as suggested by his title: General problems from the orthographic projections of geometry with their applications to oblique - including isometrical projections, graphical constructions in spherical trigonometry, topographical projection and graphic transformation. The relationship between descriptive geometry and isometrical perspective was next considered in an influential work by Church (1864, 1865, 1867, 1868, 1870, 1875, 1877,1892, 1911), and later by Randall (1905) and Bartlett (1911). Others, such as Comfort (1874), were content to discuss its connections with projections generally, while Richards (1903), was concerned merely with showing that this branch was the only practical perspective. Multiview Projection Axonometric perspective, and its branches (isometric, dimetric and trimetric), assumed that the objects considered were in some way oblique or tilted in relation to the picture plane. In multiview projection it was assumed that the face(s) of the objects were parallel to the picture plane. In Britain, these methods were typically discussed in works on practical geometry or machine drawing, such as Abbott (1930). In the United States, by contrast, these problems were usually considered in works on machine drawing, solid geometry or more general works on drawing or architectural drafting such as Weidhaas (1981). The solutions reached also differed widely. In Britain a preference evolved for first angle projection (fig. ), which could be seen as almost a direct development of the picture plane tradition (figs. 30-31), or Pozzo's methods in architecture (fig. 45.1-2), i.e., a looking out at projections on planes beyond the object. This method of first angle projection was accepted as a standard by the British Standards Institution in 1927 (Report No. 308). Meanwhile, American texts favoured third-angle-projection, i.e., a method of looking in at the projections of an object as if encased in a transparent plane (fig.** ). Although this so called glass box method was in common use by the First World War, it was not accepted as a standard until 1935. Special Effects Already in the fifteenth century, thinkers recognized that linear perspective alone could not achieve all the spatial effects of three-dimensional objects. Hence, Leonardo da Vinci, explored the role of colour perspective, aerial perspective and what he termed disappearance of form perspective. He also noted the importance of shading in creating contours and saw these effects of chiaroscuro or relief (relievo) as an extension of perspective. This later emerged as an independent topic of shades and shadows. In addition, Leonardo recognized that motion perspective was also important. Since most of these categories have developed an independent literature, each will be considered in turn.

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Colour Perspective In his Optics, Ptolemy (c. 150) referred briefly to an empirical use of colour by Roman artists in representing effects of distance.47 During the Renaissance, Fontana was the first to explore these principles in his now lost treatise, of which we have only a description by Pompilius Azalus: From this natural experience, pictorial art took its optical rules as was described clearly in a book dedicated to Jacopo Bellini, the famous Venetian painter, and by which means he knew how to oppose dark and bright colours such that, by means of ratios, not only the raised parts of an image were seen depicted on a plane, but actually seemed to be seen extending beyond the hand or foot. And those things which were in the same plane of men, animals or mountains, by these means appeared to be distant by miles and so on. Indeed, the art of painting teaches that nearby objects should be tinged with bright colours, remote ones with dark colours, and medium range distances with mixed colours.48 In the period 1480-1518, Leonardo da Vinci explored the principles of colour perspective in his notebooks. Curiously enough, this theme was not taken up in published treatises during the sixteenth century. Zaccolini (c. 1600), who may have drawn on now lost works of Leonardo, devoted two manuscripts to problems of colour perspective.49 Accolti (1625), was one of the first to mention colour perspective in a published treatise. Even so, it was not until the turn of the nineteenth century that colour emerged as an independent category as indicated, for instance, in the title John Wood's (1799, 1801) treatise Elements of perspective, containing the nature and light of colours, or simply found in a chapter of Cloquet (1823). Awareness of colour perspective went hand in hand with a growing attention to shades and shadows (cf. below p. ), as witnessed by Schrank (1812), Hummel (1830, 1842) and Delabar (1875), as well as colour itself by authors, such as Le Blon (172_, 1756, 1916), Schreiber (1868) and Bracquemond (1885), which led to a gradual distinction between coloured lights of optics and coloured pigments of painting. Since then Scharf (1949) has written on tensions between colour stereoscopy in vision and effects of drawing in linear perspective. Authors who have written specifically on colour perspective include Roux de Valdonne (1898), Adam Leonard (1905) and Cloquet (1913). The last decades have also seen at least one important work in Russia, namely, Aksenov (1976), and increasing interest in the Far East as witnessed by Ota (1968), Yamasiro (1975) and Takahasi (1977) in Tokyo, as well as Wang (1977) in Hong Kong. Aerial Perspective Leonardo da Vinci (fl. 1480-1519), was one of the first to discuss aerial perspective at length. Even so, it was not until the latter eighteenth century, that

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this topic emerged as an independent category through the publications of Lambert (1776), Saint Morien (1779, 1788) and Casanova (1794). In the first half of the nineteenth century authors frequently referred to linear and aerial perspective in tandem in their titles, as with Valenciennes (1803), Clinchamp (1820, 1840), Valle (1821, 1838), Isabeau (1827, 1832), Kercado-Molac (1932), Fielding (1836-1843), Laurent (1840) or Howard (1840, 1876) who reversed their order. Bayliss (1855) wrote more specifically on The elements of aerial perspective or light, shade and colour. Sutter (1858, 1870) wrote on the Philosophy of the fine arts applied to painting containing the aesthetics of aerial perspective. An author known only by the initials R.B. (1916) wrote on aerial perspective in relation to photography. Cole (1920) devoted a section of his textbook to the subject, while Baier (1955) wrote an entire book on it. Meanwhile the precise meaning of the term varied considerably as becomes clear when one compares various definitions given by authors of treatises. Brunel de Varennes (1830), for instance, claimed tersely: We divide perspective into two principal sections. The first is linear perspective, the second is aerial perspective, in which are included, the theory of shadows, that of reflections, and the reflection of objects in water and on polished surfaces.50 Vergnaud (1835), in his Manual of perspective, provided a more detailed and poetic distinction between linear and aerial perspective: Perspective has as its goal to represent on one and the same surface the whole and details of objects which nature spreads at unequal distances on surfaces infinitely varied. To attain this end, there are two distinct parts in perspective. One needs to determine the apparent contours of objects and their respective positions on the surfaces where they are located. The other needs to take the actual colour of these objects, with all the modifications brought upon it by both the accidents of light and the more or less thick layers of atmospheric air which separate them from one another. The first is a positivistic science, where one is rigorously guided by the simplest principles of geometry. This is linear perspective, without which one cannot be an adept at drawing. The second, which would at first sight appear to be obtained by a no less rigourous means, with the aid of geometry and physics, is aerial perspective, without which one cannot be a painter. But one should not hope to attain the magic of colours or the sublime, unless one is endowed by that warmth of imagination, sparks of the sacred fire without which the true artist cannot exist. In a word, one can, with the help of linear perspective, produce fine statues, the forms of which are pure and pleasant, but for which aerial perspective will never cease to be the creative breath of Prometheus.51 Brisson (1838) in his Theory of shadows and perspective which served as an appendix to Monge's Descriptive geometry saw this distinction in more clear cut ways:

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As in the theory of shadows, one has to admit two distinct parts. The one is purely geometrical and its object is to determine in a precise manner on the canvas the position of each point that is represented. The other has as its object a study of the tint of the shadow and light which one needs to give to each part of the canvas, and it is by means of physical considerations that one can deal with it in general. This latter part, which one designates under the name of aerial perspective, enters wholly into the circle of studies, which we shall attempt to expose later to complete the theory of shadows. Hence we shall occupy ourselves here only with the first part, called, linear perspective.52 Jules de la Gournerie (1859), by contrast, associated aerial perspective with colour, and as something dispensable Perspective is the art of representing objects on a canvas while maintaining their appearance. It is either linear or aerial depending on whether it deals with forms or coloration. In this work there will no question of aerial perspective.53 Just over a decade later, the Larousse encyclopaedia, in an article on drawing, cited the views of Delacroix on the subject (see below p. ), which attributed to aerial perspective a more fundamental importance. Brcke (1878) was of a similar view, but for different reasons, when he devoted a chapter of his Scientific principles of the fine arts to "Aerial perspective and the apparent size of objects,"54 his main concern being to relate it to problems of steroscopic vision. The Dictionary of pedagogy (1883) was, nonetheless, able to provide a simple distinction: Linear perspective studies the reproduction of contours of objects. Aerial perspective is concerned more specifically with the modifications that the layers of air interposed between objects and the eye of the spectator brings to shadows and tints.55 Delaistre (1897), writing at the end of the century, was closer to La Gournerie's view that the distinction was between line and colour, although he decided that both should be dealt with: Perspective, considered as a whole is the science, art of representing objects onto a surface in accordance with their optical effects, that is, in accordance with the laws of vision and of light, which means that one divides it into two classes. The one is what one calls linear, the other is what one calls aerial. Linear perspective is made by lines alone. Aerial perspective is made by the degradation of colours resulting from the greater distance of the light, as well as from the greater distance of the objects, as well as the greater or lesser intensity of the vapours which interpose themselves between the eye of the spectator and these same objects.56 Chiaroscuro Alberti mentioned colour perspective in his treatise, On painting, but concluded that the highest goal of art lies in knowing how to use black and white, because light and shade make things appear in relief.57 Piero della Francesca's definition

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of colour also referred to effects of chiaroscuro: "By colour we mean giving colours as they are shown in things, bright (chiari) and dark (oscuri) as the lights make them vary."58 Leonardo da Vinci pursued problems of chiaroscuro and relief, which he saw as an extension of perspective.59 Again, it was not until the end of the eighteenth century that this emerged as an independent category with Breysig's (1798) attempt to explain relief perspective. In the nineteenth century, the term, relief perspective, was more popular than chiaroscuro, and works were often addressed to a specific discipline: Amati (1840) and Berti (1841) to architecture, Burnet (1827, 1828, 1830) to painting; Noelli (1917) to sculpture, Poudra (1862) to theatre. More frequently, they were addressed to mathematics as with Anger (1834, 1836, 1840), Morstadt (1867), Tessari (1880, 1883), Vecchi (1891), Becchetti (1894, 1900) and Loria (1924). There were also a number of more general works, frequently with a mathematical slant, by Poudra (1860, 1866), Staudigl (1868), Burmester (1883), Cloquet (1913, 1934), Stuhlmann (1914), Berger (1944) and Steen de Jehay (1964, 1965, 1966). Shades and Shadows Although shades and shadows is listed as one of the offical subjects in the Library of Congress classification, its precise meaning is elusive indeed. One reason was etymological. Renaissance thinkers sometimes thought sciographia was synonymous with scaenographia with the result that shadows and perspective were sometimes treated as if they were interchangeable as in Piranesi's (178_) Sciographia of four old temples, or Puckett's (1808) Sciography or radial projection of shadows. Notwithstanding this tradition, systematic treatment of shadow in treatises on perspective evolved only gradually. Alberti (1434) mentioned shadows,60 but did not explore them. Leonardo da Vinci explored them in his Manuscript C (c. 1490), in a lost treatise on light and shade, and elsewhere. Drer (1525) was the first to publish rough principles of shadow projection (fig. 46.1), which were taken up by Barbaro (1568) and Danti (1583) and thereafter became a stock theme in treatises on perspective.61 By the mid-seventeenth century the study of perspectival shadow included attention to objects in a room, as for example, in Dubreuil (fig. 46.3 1642-1649). These examples became increasingly subtle as seen in Huret (fig. 46.4, 1670), and by the early nineteenth century included veritable tour de force cases, as in Cloquet (fig. 47.3-4), which uncannily prefigures pointilist techniques by half a century. Meanwhile, corresponding attention was being given to complex arrangements of individual objects as seen in Highmore (fig. 46.2, 1764), or Cloquet (fig. 47.1, 1983), who was at pains to correlate the geometry of individual objects with views showing context. In the next generation, Gennerich (fig. 47.2, 1865), included penumbral effects. While almost every treatise on perspective from the latter sixteenth century onwards included a brief chapter or section on shadows, more detailed studies emerged on at least three fronts. First, there were a number of treatises which made

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direct reference to the importance of shadows in their titles. Second, there were some books dedicated specifically to this theme. Third, there were a series of other books on shades and shadows which arose in the contexts of architecture, drawing and geometry. Each of these will be considered briefly. Salomon de Caus' (1612), Perspective with an explanation of shadows and mirrors, was among the first treatises to mention shadows and mirrors in its title. In the eighteenth century, Hamilton (1738) pursued these themes in his Compleat body of perspective together with their projections on shadows and the reflections by polished surfaces, and it was developed in Clinchamp's (1826) New theory of perspective of shadows and theory of reflections for the use of artists. Thereafter, the twin themes of perspectival shadows and reflections were taken up by a series of authors, including Berg (1854), Smith (1857), Heyn (1885), Charles (188 ), Kleiber (1892), Crosskey (1901), Petty (1901), Fuchs (1902), Beuhne (1907), Swinstead (1907), Tagliavini (1910), Masriera (1912), Arjona Lechuga (1918) and Bonbon (1986). More frequently, authors referred only to linear perspective and shadows in their titles, as in Ozanam's (1686) Theoretical and practical perspective and how to represent the shadows caused by the sun or a small light or Curel (1768). The nineteenth century saw a dramatic rise in such works including Richard (1828), Davies (1832) Treatise on shades, shadows and linear perspective, Francke (1836), Barnes (1842), Hummel (1842), Kempees (1846), Menzel (1849), Leve (1858), Warren (1863), Fliesen (1877) and Neel (1879). The 1880's brought at least seven new authors on this topic including Nielsen (1884), Bklen (1886), Chizzoni (1886), Lebon (1887), Hauck (1888), Gut (1888) and Kajetan (1888). The 1890's brought four new authors, Hill (1894), Freyberger (1897), Sparton (1898) and Willson (1898). In the first decade of the twentieth century, interest in this topic reached a peak with no less than eight further authors including Hertzer (1902), Johnson (1902), Lafarga (1902), Fernandez Casanova (1907), Haase (1907), Heubach (1908), Hauck (1910) and Spink et al. (1910). Thereafter interest faded temporarily. Since the 1930's there have been a series of further works by Giombini (1934), Erremes (1934), Brunschwiler (1939), Kirchmayr (1945), Pasman (1947), Pinheiro (1948), Holmes (1950), Nordlindh (1950), Parrens (1961), Boccaleone (1963), Geiger (1965), Fradin (1966, etc.), Carreras Soto (1967), Folina (1975) and Mondino (1976). While most authors have emphasized the relation of perspective to shades and shadows, some have discussed the problem in terms of lighting as, for instance, Schwedler (1852) in Practical introduction to making a perspective drawing and lighting of same; Rohn and Papperitz (1906) in Axonometry, perspective, lighting or Vries de Hecklingen (1907) in Teaching of projection and lighting. The earliest manuscripts specifically on light and shade in connection with perspective were probably Leonardo da Vinci's (1490) Manuscript C and his now

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lost treatise. Theriaci's (1551) Discourse and explanation of shadows, may well have been the first published work on the subject. The seventeenth century brought several more works including a manuscript by Zaccolini (c.1600) On the description of shadows produced by rectilinear opaque bodies; an optical text by Maurolico (1612), often classed as perspective; Albrecht (1622) etc. who devoted the second of his two treatises on perspective specifically to shadows; Kircher's (1646, etc.), Great art of light and shade, an encyclopaedic tome which dealt with gnomonics, surveying and optics as well as perspective and shadows. The eighteenth century added at least one interesting title: Philip Jacobszoon's (1785) Scientific, mathematical and perspectival introduction to the placing of the sun and moon in a picture in order to determine their cast shadows. The nineteenth century saw more than a dozen works devoted specifically to perspective and shadows including Marconi (1812) On the theory of shading, Schrank (1812), Muhlert (1821), who set out to determine shadows following optical principles; Similien (1842), Hinckley (1851), Fournet (1859) with Researches into coloured shadows which manifest themselves at different seasons and on the application of the phenomenon, Rtz (1864), Schreiber (1868), Delabar (1871), Seeberger (1876), Landriani (1879), Steindorff (1884) and Cabuzel (1887). Such works have continued in the twentieth century with Weishaupt (1901), Vonderlinn (1904), Jaulin (1909), Luckiesh (1916), Arola y Sala (1921), Opitz (1926), Gromort (1932) and Grondona (1932) with a Treatise on the theory of shadows and more recently Brtschi (1978). This interest has also spread to the Far East with Jin's (1959) Research on shadows in perspective and a work by the association, Tong-ji-da-xue-gong-cheng-h (1961), on Shadows and perspective. Shades and shadows have played an important role in architecture from the outset as, for instance, in the method of representing cross-sections of buildings attributed to Brunelleschi (fig. 84.3), and particularly in connection with the five orders of columns (figs. 44-45) as evidenced by an early compilation of engravings by Veneziano, Serlio, Prevost and Fltner (c. 1540), or the classic treatises by Blum (1550 etc.), Barozzi, il Vignola (1583, etc.) and Hondius (1617, 1620, etc.) On the five orders of architecture with some fine architectural designs rendered in perspective invented by Jan Vredeman de Vries and his son Paul. The latter seventeenth century saw new examples of shades and shadows in Bosse's (1664), On the orders of columns in architecture, and Huret's (1678) New treatise on architecture, as well as adaptations of earlier works, such as Erasmus' (1682) version of Blum and Bosboom's (1686) edition of Scamozzi. The latter eighteenth century brought treatises on shades and shadows intended as a direct complement to Vignola, including Spampani and Antonini (1770), Lagardette (1797, etc.), Heidelhoff (1834, c. 1851, 1859, 1888, 1812), Bourgeois (1838) and Rebout (1845). It also brought direct additions to Vignola's work such as Elementary lessons of shadows in architecture demonstrated by principles taken from nature. (e.g. 1786, cf. 1792, 1823, 1902, 1905, 1910, 1912, 1923, 1940).

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Meanwhile, Nicholson, who also wrote a new work on the five orders of columns (1795, 1804, 184_), published a more general work (1795, etc.) on Principle of architecture containing...the true method of drawing the ichnography and orthography of objects; geometrical rules for shadows. In the nineteenth century such books, which applied perspective and shadows to architecture generally emerged as an independent genre, with authors such as Rossi Melocchi (1805), Heidelhoff (1888), Watelet (1896) and Planat (1899). Some books were addressed specifically to students at schools of architecture, e.g. L'Eveille (1812), Ribbans (1843), Pillet (1888) and Lawrence (1893). The nineteenth and twentieth centuries saw a development in two opposite directions. On the one hand, there were ever more specialized works (cf. fig. ), such as Beuhne's (1907) Textbook of linear perspective with construction of shadows and reflections and application to drawing of furniture and interiors or Grndling, who wrote on descriptive geometry, projection and the perspective of shadows specifically for masons (1912), and a similar work specifically for carpenters (1912). On the other hand there was a trend towards more universal books such as Burg (1830) or Robinet (1855), which combined architectural and machine drawing. Tessari (1880) took this approach further, when he made his theory of shadows and chiaroscuro volume one of his applications of descriptive geometry "for the use of engineers, architects and designers."62 In the twentieth century works on shades and shadows officially addressed to architects, have frequently assumed applications to engineering and other disciplines, as in McGoodwin (1904), Ware (1912), Holmes (1929), Buck (1930), Shelton (1931) Vriend and Arendzen (1934), Morgan (1950), Turner (1952), Doria (1958), Mandino (1962), Parrens (1962), Fradin (1966), Carter (1967), Klimukhin (1967), Hasegawa (1977), and Vroman (1978, 1983). One of the earliest drawing books which dealt with perspective and shadows, was produced for the military: Bouchotte's (1721, 1743, 1754, 1755) Rules of drawing and wash drawing. This connection with water-colours, or wash drawing, continued in the nineteenth century with Tripon (1848), Armengaud (1849), Delaistre (1855), and Pillet (1875), who produced a Theory of shadows and wash drawings. From the mid-eighteenth century onwards, there was increasing emphasis on the scientific dimensions of drawing. Seminal in this respect were Dupain de Montesson's (1750, etc.) Science of shadows with respect to drawing and Valle's (1821) Treatise of the science of drawing, containing a general theory of shadows, linear and aerial perspective. As in the case of architectural books, drawing books on shades and shadows also went in two directions. On the one hand, there was greater specialization as shades and shadows became associated with different kinds of drawing, such as construction drawing, e.g. Arbesser (1824), Muller (1865); linear drawing, Laurent (1827), Burg (1845), Edelmann (1871), Anonymous (1875), Segerborg (1896, etc.); machine drawing, Astolfi (1824) and technical drawing,

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Dietzel (1864), Bretagne (1967). On the other hand, there was a growing conviction that the laws of drawing were universally applicable as with Ryan (1860), Pereda y Lopez (1866), Davidson (1868, etc..), Ryan (1869), Krsi (1876, etc.), Spanton (1896), or Curtis (1909), who entitled his work, Elements of graphics, orthogonal projections, shades, shadows and perspective. The conviction that the principles governing perspectival shades and shadows were indeed universal owed much to connections with mathematics. It is noteworthy that Desargues, among the first to establish the mathematical laws of perspective, was also the author of a now lost Lessons on shadows (163_). In the eighteenth century Murdoch (1746) explored the origins of curves by means of shadows. Dupuis (1793) wrote a Memoir on the geometrical determination of tints in drawings. In the early nineteenth century Bordoni (1815) wrote On the geometrical determination of shadows and (1816) On the contours of ordinary shadows. His contemporary, Magistrini (1816) described An easy and universal delineation of geometry of shadows which round objects undergo. As the nineteenth century progressed, a branch of geometrical drawing evolved with Burg (1845), Minifie (1849), Schmidt (1863), Rheims (1865) and Spriggs (1871). This has continued in our century as witnessed in a work by Xu (1979). Meanwhile, even closer connections developed between descriptive geometry, perspective and shadows. One of the first studies by the father of descriptive geometry, Monge, was concerned also with shadows (1780): Memoir on properties of several kinds of curved surfaces, particularly those of surfaces which can be developed with a theory of shadows and penumbra. He also wrote (1785) On shadows. By the 1820's, thinkers such as Harchette (1822), Ohm (1826) and Schreiber (1828) saw shades and shadows as applications of descriptive geometry. Important in this connection was Brisson's (1827) Theory of shadows and perspective, which was added as an appendix to the fifth edition of Monge's Descriptive geometry. A series of such works followed including Sevastianov (1830), Wolff (1835-1840), Leroy (1844, etc.), Pasi (1844), Bielsa (1846), as well as Olivier and Terte (1847). Fialkowski (1851) added a new feature: Pocket models to aid the study of descriptive geometry with the help of shadow construction and perspective. Bardin (1855) also advocated the use of models. In the latter half of the nineteenth century, the application of descriptive geometry to perspective and shades and shadows became a regular feature in textbooks by at least fifteen authors including Nigris (1853), Bardin (1855), Schnedar (1856), Heissig (1859), Hieser (1861), Church (1864, etc.), Alix (1867), Cardona y Escarrabil (1869), Butz (1870), Riess (1871), Tessari (1880), Gerke (1881), Warren (1884) and Schmehl (1894). These connections have continued in the twentieth century with further works by Bernhard (1901, etc..), Randall (1902), Alonso Misol (1911), Ranelletti (1921), Loria (1924), Roversi (1945), Mondino (1962), Soto Hidalgo (1967), Gaman (1976).

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Motion Perspective In his notebooks, Leonardo da Vinci also explored the effects of motion on perspective. Some of these ideas were published in his Treatise on painting (1651, etc.). Even so these problems were largely ignored until the development of cinema in the latter nineteenth century which led to works such as Mannheim's (1880) Course of descriptive geometry of the Ecole polytechnique including the elements of cinematic geometry. One of the first works devoted specifically to these problems was Nico's (1920), Theory of perspective in relation to movement in space. Pizzigoni (1951) produced an illustrated perspective book "for painters, architects, scenographers and cinematographers." In terms of technical drawing there has been Krames (1952) Descriptive and kinematic geometry for machinists. At a theoretical level Gibson (1979)63 has emphasized the significance of motion perspective, but as yet there has been no satisfactory text in this domain. 8.Conclusions Our survey of the contents of treatises on perspective points to some important trends. Already in Antiquity, authors such as Ptolemy, noted that distance affected the optical vision of lines, colour, the air and even the clarity of form of objects. Early fifteenth century thinkers working in the optical tradition were fully aware that distance also affected the perspectival representation of these same characteristics. Indeed Fontana, in his now lost treatise set out to explore aerial and colour perspective. But he was an exception. The Florentine ideal of creating effects of depth through chiaroscuro reduced colour problems to black and white questions of linear forms and, as a result, fifteenth century treatises were limited to geometrical themes such as the two chief methods, and regular solids, as well as aspects of human form, notably the head, which could readily be reduced to geometrical regularity. It is no accident, therefore, that we associate the Renaissance with linear perspective. Other branches, such as colour perspective, aerial perspective and diminution of form perspective were systematically excluded. Thinkers such as Leonardo (fl. 1490-1515) and Accolti (1625) made serious efforts to re-introduce them, but to no avail. To this day, standard works such as Cole (1920) or Abbott (1950) effectively limit themselves to perspective of lines. Implicit in this approach was a new emphasis on instruments in the process of representation (see below 2.1). Alberti was convinced that perspective required the use of a window to be carried out properly. Piero's methods assumed at least a ruler and compass. Francesco di Giorgio Martini used strings to demonstrate the distance point. Leonardo considered all these possibilities. In short the fifteenth century authors lay the foundations of what is now termed construction drawing (see fig. cf. pp. ). The Nrnberg practitioners of the sixteenth century made explicit and codified this instrumental approach such that, by the end of the

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century, Pfintzing (fig. 54.2, 4-5) served almost as a catalogue of available devices. In terms of contents, German treatises of the sixteenth century added a considerable number of semi-regular solids and related shapes to the repertoire of available forms, including the entire human form. But the scope was limited almost entirely to geometrical themes. This continued to be the case. For as we showed in our chapter on the various centres, many German cities, notably Berlin, Leipzig, Stuttgart, Darmstadt and Braunschweig published almost exclusively technical and mathematical works on perspective. Indeed, it is significant that in one of the basic catalogues of drawing books (1888) perspective was classified simply as a branch of construction drawing (fig. cf. pp. ), as if it had nothing to do with freehand drawing, colour, air and many other effects. Meanwhile, architectural themes in perspective emerged largely in Italy, the Netherlands and France, in the context of Vitruvian commentaries and Serlio's works on architecture. Almost from the outset, some of these themes, including perspectival ruins, columns, and idealized buildings tended to become independent genres of literature. Cousin (1560) in France, and Barbaro (1568, etc.) in Italy, integrated geometrical and architectural themes to produce a new type of perspective treatise which has served as a model ever since. The seventeenth century added many new examples of geometrical and architectural forms. The eighteenth century, particularly in England, added new architectural themes such as towns, gardens, landscapes and nature as part of regular treatises. The nineteenth century saw these themes spread through Europe and the addition of both historical reconstructions of buildings, as well as modern buildings. The twentieth century added to this repertoire mainly modern buildings and views, many in the form of photographs. Authors were slow in considering alternative picture planes. In the fifteenth century, it was assumed that the picture plane would be rectilinear, with objects positioned regularly to produce one point perspective. Cases of anamorphic distortion, although studied by Leonardo, and mentioned by Barbaro (1568) and Danti (1583), became fashionable for a brief period in the 1630's and 1640's in Paris with Vaulezard and the Jesuits, Nicron and Dubreuil. Some thinkers classed these methods independently (fig. ), but they never assumed an important role in basic texts. Similarly, conic and cylindrical projections were considered in isolated sixteenth century treatises, and some seventeenth century texts, but subsequently tended to emerge as independent works, rather than becoming a typical feature of treatises on perspective. This happened also in the case of spherical perspective, which was considered by isolated figures in the nineteenth century, a number of individuals in the first half of the twentieth, although only recently inspiring more popular interest as an independent genre. In the case of alternative projection methods there were analogous trends. During the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, the treatises contained rough examples of

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parallel perspective which, in retrospect, could be seen as prototypes of cavalier, military and axonometric projection. But as thinkers defined them more precisely, these methods tended to become independent genres of their own. For instance, isometric perspective, once Farish had described it, was usually not added as an additional chapter to regular treatises on perspective. Instead it became part of a new genre of alternative literature on technical drawing, frequently appearing in books devoted specifically to isometry. With effects such as colour, aerial perspective, chiaroscuro and shades and shadows, the same principle obtained. While some works did attempt to deal with linear and aerial perspective together (see above p. ) these were the exception. Innovations were usually not integrated within a corpus of linear perspective as a whole, and were relegated instead into other genres of literature, such as architecture, drawing and mathematics, particularly descriptive geometry. This was no coincidence. It reflected a deeper problem, namely, that perspective as a concept never obtained any serious independence of its own. In the early period, perspective was classed as a branch of optics and linked with architecture (see above pp. ), and traces of this heritage have remained to the present. In addition, perspective also became classed under two other headings, drawing and mathematics. Hence the process outlined in this chapter, how optics, architecture, drawing and mathematics, were themes within treatises on perspective is only half the story. For it is also necessary to examine how perspective functioned as a theme within these larger classes: to outline the effects of perspective on the history of optics, architecture, drawing and mathematics and to sketch some aspects of the history of classification. This will be the challenge of the next chapter.

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4. CLASSIFICATION 1. Introduction 2. Optics 3. Architecture 4. Drawing 6. Mathematics 7. Conclusions. 1. Introduction From the outset, the classification of perspective posed problems. Etymologically it was linked with optics, which could not be classed simply. Historically it was linked with architecture, which equally eluded simple classification. By the nineteenth century the nature of the problem began to come into focus. Systems of classification had forged clear distinctions between (subjective) art and (objective) science, as well as between (theoretical) science and (practical) technology. Perspective had the embarrassing characteristic of belonging clearly to all of these. It belonged to art, because it created spatial effects in paintings and it was accordingly classed under drawing. At the same time its theoretical principles were so clearly connected with the mathematical projections underlying scientific demonstrations, that it came to be listed under descriptive geometry. Finally, it also involved instruments, such that it was also classed under technology. These three headings, plus the historical one connecting it with architecture, have been maintained in the Library of Congress classification to this day. On the surface, this was merely a matter of semantics, a search for convenient cubbyholes in the case of a borderline subject. There were, however, dramatic consequences. It meant, for example, that numerous innovations pertaining to perspective accrued to the larger categories to the extent that, when the artistic aspects of perspective came under fire, it could reasonably appear to some that perspective had died although the number of treatises on perspective in these other fields continued to grow. The continued association with optics perpetuated a confusion between subjective optical questions of how an object is seen, and objective geometrical questions of an object's projections. The connection with drawing meant that perspective became entangled in conflicting philosophies of artistic education and was affected by changing fashions therein. Ironically, the connection with mathematics, which seemed the most obvious of all, proved to be the most perplexing. By the mid-sixteenth century mathematicians such as Commandino had established the mathematical foundations of perspective. These were further clarified by Guidobaldo del Monte and Stevin, and consolidated by Desargues. In the nineteenth century, with the development of descriptive geometry, it seemed obvious to class perspective as a branch thereof. In the twentieth century, with the development of algebraic geometry, this more general concept embraced both descriptive geometry and perspective. The problem was that algebraic geometry was non-visual, which posed a curious paradox: perspective, the chief means for visualizing space and objects, was classed as a subset of a non-visual method. Meanwhile, where perspective stands in relation to other branches of projection such as isometry, 5.Drawing Education.

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affinity and topology has become an open question. In order to gain further insight into these problems of classification it will be useful to consider each of them in turn. 2.Optics Etymologically, both the term for linear perspective and for optics stemmed from the Latin, perspectiva.1 Already in Antiquity, optics had eluded attempts at simple classification. The ancients had partially sidestepped this problem by dealing with its geometrical, philosophical and physical aspects separately. Aristotle had included optics among the mixed sciences,2 which subsequently led to its being classed among the mechanical arts by some mediaeval thinkers.3 Considered less important than astronomy and music, optics was excluded from the quadrivium section of the mediaeval seven liberal4 arts and yet, ironically, by the late thirteenth century, it emerged as chief of the mathematical sciences. In the words of Peckham, archbishop of Canterbury: Among the investigations of physics, light is most pleasing to students of the subject. Among the glories of mathematics it is certitude of demonstration that most highly exalts the investigators. Therefore, optics (perspectiva), in which demonstrations are devised through the use of radiant lines, and in which glory is found physically, as well as mathematically, so that optics (perspectiva) is adorned by the flowers of both, is properly preferred to [all] the teachings of mankind.5 The Renaissance continued to class optics as a branch of mathematics. This continued into the seventeenth century when two trends emerged: one listing optics as merely another item in a growing list of mathematical sciences, the other distinguishing between optical, mechanical, geographical and other sciences. Some examples from both traditions will be needed to reveal the constantly shifting interplay between optics and perspective. The idea of listing disciplines grew out of the mediaeval tradition of the seven liberal arts, by means of which optics was subsumed under geometry as one of the basic disciplines. In Gregor Reisch's Philosophical pearl (1517), for instance, this list included: grammar, dialectic, rhetoric, arithmetic, music, geometry, astronomy, natural philosophy, alchemy, vegetative and sensitive soul, rational soul and moral philosophy.6 In the works of Joachim Fortius (1531), this list was reduced to grammar, dialectic, rhetoric, mathematics and divination, but the branches of mathematics were correspondingly expanded to include the sphere, astronomy, cosmography, book of time, table of time, perspective (optice) and mathematical chaos (which included practical geometry, surveying, cosmography, astrology, meteorology and dreams).7 John Dee's (1570) list, in his mathematical preface, included optics, amidst a number of more exotic branches: "perspective [i.e. optics], astronomie, musike, cosmographie, astrologie, statike, anthropographie, trochilike, helicosophie, pneumatithmie, menadrie, hypogeiodie, hydragogie, horometrie,

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zographie [i.e. archemastrie."8

perspective],

architecture,

navigation,

thaumatargike,

In the seventeenth century, these lists continued to change, with optics emerging increasingly as an independent category. Valentin Andreae (1614), for instance, included geometry, arithmetic, statics, astronomy, gnomonics, automata, optics, architecture, fortification, surveying, and polyhedra.9 Robert Fludd's (1617) list included arithmetic, music, geometry, optics, pictorial art, military art, science of motion, science of time, cosmography, astrology and geomancy.10 Blancanus (1620) listed only six branches of speculative mathematics: geometry, arithmetic, optics, mechanics, music and astronomy,11 to which he added six others which were their practical equivalents.12 Ciermans (1641) also chose a dozen disciplines in order to have them correspond with the twelve months: geometry, arithmetic, optics, statics, hydrostatics, nautical science, architecture, war, military machines, geography, astronomy and chronology.13 Schwenter (1651) increased the list to sixteen: arithmetic, geometry, stereometry, music, optics and perspective, catoptrics, astronomy and astrology, gnomonics and clocks, statics, motion, pyrotechnics, pneumatics, hydraulics, writing, architecture and chemistry.14 Four decades later, with the Jesuit, Milliet de Chales (1690), optics had moved to twentieth place in a list of thirty-one treatises on: the fourteen books of Euclid, the Sphaerics of Theodosius, conic sections, arithmetic, trigonometry, algebra, practical geometry, mechanics, statics, geography, magnetism, civil architecture, art of dyeing, stone cutting, military architecture, hydrostatics, fountains and rivers, hydraulic machines, navigation, optics, perspective, catoptrics, dioptrics, music, pyrotechnics, astrolabes, gnomonics, astronomy, astrology, meteors and calendars.15 When the librarians at Gttingen developed their systematic subject catalogue (1730's ff.) their list for mathematics was effectively a new combination of these disciplines: 1) speculative and practical geometry, arithmetic, algebra; 2) optics, catoptrics, dioptrics; 3) cosmography, on the sphere, globes etc.; 4) astronomy, 5) gnomonics; 6) judiciary astrology; 7) physiognomy, chiromancy and other divinatorial arts; 8) civil architecture; 9) military architecture; 10) military art; 11) art of navigation, 12) hydraulic art and hydrostatics, machines; 13) art of painting and sculpture; 14) art of writing; 15) music, 16) mechanical and illiberal arts.16 While many more lists could be cited the above examples amply confirm that there was no fixed order for listing the mathematical sciences, that optics was sometimes listed as a general category including perspective, and sometimes listed separately from perspective. Similar conditions obtained in another tradition, which arranged the mathematical sciences in groups. For example, Hrigone (1644), in his new course on mathematics, divided his work into five tomes (adding a sixth as a supplement). The first tome dealt with theoretical geometry; a second with arithmetic, computus, algebra and analysis. A third tome contained trigonometry, practical geometry, art of military and mechanical warfare; a fourth contained the

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doctrine of the sphere and geography while a fifth dealt with optics, catoptrics, dioptrics, perspective, spherical trigonometry, planetary theories, gnomonics and music.17 Ozanam's (1697) five tomes were somewhat differently arranged: 1) introduction to mathematics and Elements of Euclid; 2) arithmetic, trigonometry and sine tables; 3) [practical] geometry; 4) mechanics and optics (perspectiva); 5) geography and gnomonics.18 Wolff (1730-1738) reduced this scheme to four tomes: 1) mathematical method, arithmetic, geometry, trigonometry; 2) mechanics, with statics, hydrostatics, aerometry and hydraulics; 3) optics, perspective, catroptrics, dioptrics, the sphere and spherical trigonometry and astronomy, both spherical and theoretical; 4) geography with hydrography, chronology, gnomonics, pyrotechnics,, military and civil architecture.19 Frobes (1743-1746) preferred to further subdivide Wolff's third to fourth categories thus producing six parts: 1) arithmetic, geometry and trigonometry; 2) mechanics, hydrostatics, aerometry and hydraulics; 3) pyrotechnics as well as military and civil architecture; 4) optics, catoptrics, dioptrics and perspective; 5) astronomy; 6) geography, chronology and gnomonics.20 Clemm (1764) chose to distinguish between five kinds of sciences: arithmetical sciences (computation of numbers, letter computation, practical computation); geometrical sciences (elementary geometry, trigonometry, plane and spherical; practical geometry, higher geometry); static sciences (statics or mechanics, hydrostatics, aerometry, hydraulics), optical sciences (optics, catoptrics, dioptrics, perspective) and astronomical sciences (astronomy, spherical and theoretical geography, chronology, gnomonics, civil and military architecture).21 By the time of Wiegleb's edition of Martius' Instruction in natural magic (1796-1798) this list of different sciences had been transformed into eight realms of artifice (Kunststcke): electricity, magnetism, optics, chemistry, mechanics, computation, economics and cards (sic!).22 Meanwhile, Kstner (1792) reduced the sciences to two basic divisions: 1) mechanical and optical sciences; 2) astronomy, geography, chronology and gnomonics.23 Lorenz (1798) devoted a first book to arithmetic and geometry; a second book to mechanical, optical and astronomical sciences and a third book to general computation of sizes.24 Such examples confirm that even in this second, more organized tradition, there was still no fixed order for listing the mathematical sciences, that optics25 was sometimes listed as a general category including perspective, and sometimes listed separately from perspective. If there was debate about the relationship of optics and perspective within a general framework of the mathematical sciences, there was an even greater difference of opinion concerning the respective branches thereof. In John Dee's (1570) table, for instance, "perspective" [i.e. optics] was that "which demonstrateth all maners and properties of all radiations direct broken and reflected," while "zographie" [i.e. perspective] was that "which demonstrateth and teacheth, how,

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the intersection of all visuall pyramids, made by any plaine assigned (the center, distance and lightes being determined), may be, by lines and proper colours represented".26 Another author divided optics into theoretical and practical; dividing the latter into technical, perspectival, planisphaeric and anamorphic; subdividing perspectival in turn into vertical (with its categories united or pictorial and separated or scenical) and horizontal; while subdividing anamorphic into ithyoptic, catoptric and dioptric.27 Guldin (1635) divided optics into optics proper, catoptrics, dioptrics and diocatoptrics; subdividing optics proper into perspectiva [i.e. optics] and perspectiva [i.e. perspective], the latter of which he further divided into orthography, stereography and scenography28 (an adaptation of the Vitruvian scheme, cf above p. ). He also subdivided catoptrics into plane, convex, concave and burning mirrors. Haesel's (1672) scheme bore some resemblance to this. He began by dividing optics into general and specific, the latter of which he subdivided into parts which dealt with 1) straight or direct ray (including ichnography, orthography, scenography and sciography); 2) reflected ray or catoptrics (as in plane, concave and convex mirrors) and 3) a refracted or infracted ray (as in mesoptics through glass, water or air).29 Rather different again was the view of Adelung (1781) who also looked upon perspective as a branch of optics: Perspective in turn divides itself into [1] linear perspective which, with the help of geometry, teaches the proper foreshortening of straight lines as, for example, the parts of a building; [2] aerial perspective, which falls entirely within the domain of the painter and teaches how to establish light and shade in accordance with changes which colour of the air brings to bodies and their colours at a certain distance and [3] mirror perspective, which teaches one how to draw irregular and distorted figures, which spherical, conic and other mirrors again restore to their regular shape.30 Meanwhile, Ciermanns (1641), subdivided optics into eight categories: perspective, orthography, scenography, practice, compendious [perspective], scenography, curious [perspective] and problematic [perspective].31 Wiegleb (1786-1798) focussed on eight quite different subdivisions: 1) the eye and its imitation; 2) curious perspective [i.e. anamorphosis]; 3) plane mirrors; 4) concave and convex mirrors; 5) prisms and prismatic colours; 6) convex and concave lenses; 7) perspective; 8) instruments and machines for drawing.32 Von Schlosser (1935) assumed that the discovery of perspective led to a clear distinction between optics (perspectiva communis) and perspective (perspectiva artificialis).33 Panofsky (1927) spread this idea.34 However, as the above examples confirm, there was no ready consensus about either the relation of optics and perspective or their further subdivisions. Granted there were cases when linear perspective was distinguished by an extra adjective as in prospectiva pingendi, or

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prospectiva pratica, but in general, the terms for optics and perspective tended to remain interchangeable. Indeed Leonardo, adopted the title of Peckham's treatise on optics, when he headed a section on perspective in his Treatise on painting: prospettiva comune.35 And Leonardo's contemporary, Cesariano added a basic diagram relating to perspective in a manuscript version of Peckham's text.36 This continued interplay of meanings helps explain the enduring impact of optics on perspective in terms of both titles and content, although it varied from country to country. In Italy, for instance, because the term prospettiva continued to mean both "optics" and "perspective," these connections remained largely implicit. In Germany, works which specifically mentioned optics in their titles, were rare, as, for example, Mhlert's (1821) Art of shadows following optical laws, ttingen's important article (1906), Judgment of perspective images with references to the viewpoint of the observer and Riegel's (1952) The visual image, Handbook of Perspective. In France, this connection between optics and perspective, became explicit in the sixteenth century. Hence the Antwerp encyclopaedist Ringelbergius (1531), whose works were published in Paris, had a section on perspective headed optics (Optice), while Androuet Du Cerceau (1551) entitled one of his works Twenty figures for they contain most ancient optical views which they call perspective. In the seventeenth century, Nicron (1638) wrote Curious perspective or the artificial magic of wonderful effects of optics, catoptrics and dioptrics, and Huret (1670) entitled his treatise on perspective simply, Optics of portraiture. The eighteenth century saw only isolated examples such as La Caille's (1750, etc.) Elementary lessons of optics, which dealt with perspective. In the nineteenth century Valle's (1844), Theory of the eye played an important role in asserting that the laws of descriptive geometry, perspective and vision coincided. He began his work with a survey of famous contributions to optics by Leonardo da Vinci, Kepler, Soemmering, Brewster and Young, noting that his own interests had begun more than two decades earlier: ...in 1821 we published the Treatise of the science of drawing. In this work we consider painting, drawing in its different genres and in general the art of imitating objects in order to produce a greater or lesser illusion, as an application of the rules by means of which one can deceive the eye. Hence the theory of vision serves as the basis of our treatise, where it is explained in some detail and often envisaged under new aspects. In this work, of which perspective and shadows are important parts, geometry guides us constantly and has led us to an explanation of the achromatic nature of the eye based on the non-homogeneity of the vitreous body.37 The second half of the nineteenth century saw a number of new works, which assumed close links between optics and perspective, such as Babinet's (1855), Studies and readings on the sciences of observation, Charles' (1884), Elementary treatise on linear perspective and perspective of view, Payen's (1884), Extract of a

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treatise on ocular perspective, and numerous works on perspective of observation including Pierre (1885), Daniel (1891), Tensi (1895), Watelet (1893), Chevrier (1900), Legrand (1903, 1908), Lienaux (19135-1949) and more recently Raynaud (1962). In the Netherlands emphasis on the optical aspects of perspective began with Vredeman de Vries (1560), who entitled one of his earliest collections of engravings, Twenty most select buildings of scenography or perspective, as buildings summoned forth to the eye are called to the ordinary painter, and later wrote (1604-1605 etc.) Perspective, that is, the most famous art of looking in or through the axis of the eyes, a title which recurred in subsequent editions by his student Marolois (1628, 1638) etc. Another of Vredeman de Vries' students, Hondius (1623, etc.), wrote an Instruction of optics or perspective, as if the two terms were fully interchangeable. Similarly, a later edition of Marolois (1653) was entitled simply, Optics or perspective. In England, the work of Hondius and Marolois was a starting point for a treatise by Moxon (1670): Practical perspective or perspective made easie teaching by opticks. In 1701, Lamy published his Trait de perspective, ou sont contenus les fondemans de la peinture, which was translated into English the following year (1702) as: Treatise of perspective or the art of representing all manner of objects as they appear to the eye in all situations, which almost certainly influenced Brook Taylor (1715, etc.) when he entitled his seminal work: Linear perspective or a new method of representing justly all manner of objects as they appear to the eye in all situations. Meanwhile, Shuttleworth (1707), had written A treatise of optics direct...to which is added an appendix on perspective. Later in the century, Harris (1775), also dealt with perspective in A treatise on optics containing elements of the science. The nineteenth century saw further works linking optics and perspective, such as Keating's (1812) Eidometria or optic mensuration and (corollary) perspective or Burnet's (1837, etc.), An essay on the education of the eye with reference to painting. This tradition continued in the twentieth century with works such as Roberts (1904), Perspective of sight, and Myslak's (1967), Point of view perspective. These analogies between optics and perspective affected both fields. In the sixteenth century, Leonardo had explored tensions between a spherical--or cylindrical--plane of vision, and the rectilinear plane of perspectival representation. In the seventeenth century, Bosse deliberately contrasted a cylindrical plane of vision, with a rectilinear plane of perspective, to demonstrate why one must not draw what one sees. By the nineteenth century, the development of descriptive geometry encouraged the assumption that there were universal laws of reality, which applied equally to geometry, vision and representation. The window principle now served to demonstrate that the laws of optics and perspective were identical, and became a standard example in introductions to textbooks on perspective, as in Ruskin (1859):

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When you begin to read this book, sit down very near the window, and shut the window. I hope the view out of it is pretty; but, whatever the view may be, we shall find enough in it for an illustration of the first principles of perspective (or, literally, of "looking through"). Every pane of your window may be considered, if you choose, as a glass picture; and what you see through it, as painted on its surface... ...Every picture drawn in true perspective may be considered as an upright piece of glass, on which the objects seen through it have been thus drawn. Perspective can, therefore, only be quite right, being calculated for one fixed position of the eye of the observer; nor will it ever appear deceptively right unless seen precisely from the point it is calculated for.38 Ruskin quietly relegated to an appendix the problem of visual angles39 (cf. p. ) which implicitly challenged this equation between vision and representation. Cassagne (1879), referred to equally sized objects positioned at different heights strictly in terms of their projections, without references to their different visual angles. For him the visual angle was only of interest as applied to the ensemble, particularly with respect to establishing the proper distance for viewing and drawing objects.40 In the meantime, the initial wave of enthusiasm for descriptive geometry had passed, and thinkers had become aware that there were problems with these easy equations between geometry, perspective and optics. Jules de la Gournerie (1859), for instance, noted that: Perspective is a graphic art of a special kind. It poses practical difficulties peculiar to it alone and which, in the course of several centuries have occupied a great number of learned men and artists. Authors who have treated it as a simple application of descriptive geometry have not been able to give it the necessary developments. There are moreover grounds to believe that several of them deigned not to study the older treatises. In fact practically all the students of Monge believed that all the graphic arts presented only uncertainty and confusion prior to [the coming] their master. One finds in the writings of several of the most famous of these, assertions which are completely erroneous in this regard.41 At about the same time, the researches of Hering and Helmholtz42 were suggesting that the perceptual space of optics might be non-Euclidean, and hence fundamentally different from the Euclidean space of perspective. This led gradually to a whole body of literature on alternative projection methods designed to approximate more closely the realities of visual perceptions (cf. pp. and ). When Panofsky wrote his landmark essay on perspective as a symbolic form (1927),43 he assumed that the discovery of linear perspective brought about a change in Euclidean theories of visual angles. This did not occur in the sixteenth century, as he imagined, but rather in the nineteenth, and then only briefly under

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the impetus of descriptive geometry. And even then, perspective remained under the spectre of being classed as a branch of optics such that whenever there were innovations in optical theory, there were usually corresponding innovations in perspectival methods. This has continued to the present day such that works relevant to perspective are still sometimes classed as optics. 3. Architecture In the case of architecture, this question of classification posed an even greater problem. For in a sense it could be argued that every illustrated architectural book related somehow to perspective. We have already noted some of the chief architectural themes contained in actual treatises on perspective (pp. ). And while it is clearly beyond the scope of this essay to provide a comprehensive survey of all architectural works which might have a bearing on perspective, it will be useful to outline some of the more obvious points of contact. At the most obvious level, there were architectural books with sections on perspective, and some books specifically devoted to architectural perspective. In order to understand the larger context of these problems, a brief excursus into the history of classification of architecture itself will be required. This will lead to a consideration of links with descriptive geometry and specialized categories, such as architectural drawing and drafting. Each of these will be considered in turn. Just as there were general treatises on perspective with sections on architecture (cf. p. ), so too were there general treatises on architecture with sections on perspective. For instance, Furttenbach's Recreational architecture (1640), contained numerous perspectival views and a special section on stage design. Caramuel de Lobkowitz (1678) offered various perspectival methods of interest to architects. Guarino (1737), included an important discussion of perspective in his Civil architecture, while Amico (1750), in his Practical architect added a "Compendium of perspective." Vittone (1760, 1766) also discussed perspective at some length. This tradition continued into the nineteenth century with general works such as Gwilt's Encyclopaedia of architecture (e.g. 1842, 1851, 1861). Stonecutting was a branch of architecture, which involved perspective in a special way. During the middle ages knowledge of this trade was kept a secret by the guilds. Roriczer (1486) published on the topic in a secretive way. Philibert de l'Orme (1567), began to explore the relations of stonecutting and perspective in veiled terms. Yet it was not until the 1640s that the writings of three French architects explored these connections in greater detail, namely, Jousse (1642), Desargues (1643) and Derand (1643). In the 1730s, these connections were taken up anew by Gaurino (1737) and exhaustively by Frzier (1737-1739) in his monumental three volume, Theory and practice of stonecutting. As the eighteenth century progressed, this subject emerged as the new field of stereotomy, which was subsequently subsumed as a category of descriptive geometry.

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A class of books devoted specifically to architectural perspective emerged slowly. In the sixteenth century, there was a tradition of dedicating perspectival treatises to a number of professions (cf. p. ). This tradition continued in then nineteenth and twentieth centuries. A number of authors addressed their texts to painters and architects as, for example, Palaiseau (1818), Hummel (1825), Klette (1867), Longfellow (1901, 1908) and Denev (1948). There were numerous variants on this theme. Girardon (1850, 1900) addressed his work to schools of fine art, artists and architects; Holmes (1937, 1938, 1946, 1948, 1954, 1957, 1962, 1967) to artists, painters and art students; Clark (1936) to artists, architects and students, while Pyne (1870), specifically addressed young students and amateurs in architecture, painting. Mols (1816), extended the scope to painting, architecture, mechanics. Berger (1867) mentioned architects, construction workers, painters and amateurs. Adamo (1899) limited himself to architects and construction workers. Others included architects and designers, e.g. Sierp (1958, 1969,1972), White (1968, 1969,1974, 1976), Coulin (1966, 1962). Capelle (1969), addressed architects and engineers. Pizzigoni (1951), addressed painters, architects, scenographers and cinematographers, while Gratry (1855) included artists, painters, architects, engravers, decorators and all persons concerned with drawing.44 In the latter half of the nineteenth century, there evolved architectural treatises addressed specifically to architects, such as Schaap (1856), Schoen (1863), Krause (1876), Wright (1885, 1890, 1892, 1898) and Ferguson (1891, 1895). In rare cases, they were even more specialized as in Bailby's (1876) Complements of perspective. Application of linear perspective to the architectural decoration of ceilings. The first decade of the twentieth century saw no less than four new authors with works on perspective dedicated specifically to architects: Lawrence (1902, 1908, 1922, 1927, 1931, 1947), Ferguson (1903, 1915), Middleton (1903, 1907, 1915, 1919) and Hicks (1909). The next decades saw more examples with Rudd (1916), Dean (1933), Mashkov (1935), Bullen (1942), Retera (1946), Schutte (1949) and Woord (1953). The 1960's saw another upsurge, with Parrens (1962, 1967, 1973, 1971, 1982), Georghiu (1963), Schaarwchter (1964, 1967), Gomolozewski (1966), Danielowski (1968, 1969, 1976, 1982) and Rosati (1969). More recent texts on architectural perspective, dedicated to architects, include Docci (1972), Suzin (1974) and Bonbon (1977). In addition to this obvious level of books specifically devoted to architectural perspective, there were other connections between architecture and perspective, which will become more apparent through a brief excursus on classification of architecture. In the mediaeval period written architectural knowledge was imparted mainly via the Vitruvian tradition and model books45 such as those of Villard de Honnecourt,46 which contained a variety of other topics including surveying, geometry, machines and drawing (fig. ). The fifteenth century saw a further distinction between books of mechanical inventions (e.g. Taccola)47 and those which focussed on architectural inventions (e.g. Francesco di Giorgio Martini), though vestiges of other topics remained in both. By the end of the fifteenth century, a distinction emerged between pleasurable drawings (e.g. Leonardo da

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Vinci, Windsor, Royal Collection) and useful drawings (e.g. Leonardo, Codice atlantico). In the sixteenth century there were further distinctions between useful mechanical drawings (e.g. Besson, cf. below p. ) and useful architectural drawings (e.g. Serlio), between modern (Serlio), and ancient buildings (Du Cerceau); between civil (Palladio) and military architecture (Cataneo). In terms of perspective, there were works which dealt specifically with military architecture such as Specklin (1589, 1608) and Perret (1601, 1613). Perspectival fortifications gradually found their way into standard works on perspective such as Dubreuil (1642, etc.), Pozzo (1693, etc.), Bretez (1751); manuscripts such as Sovero (16__), Leturc (17__), as well as a considerable literature on military architecture proper by authors such as Marolois and Hondius, who also wrote treaties on perspective, Le Duc, Pagan, etc. Meanwhile, (fig.** ), there were also categories of literature to distinguish between sacred and secular architecture, or dealing with specific parts of buildings such as columns (Porta) or chimneys (Vredeman de Vries), or special problems such as gardening (Mollet, cf. below 2.3) or stonecutting, mentioned earlier. Gradually more subtle distinctions emerged (fig.** ). Drawings could deal with the past (buildings that had existed), the present (existing buildings), the future (planned buildings) or be a-temporal (imaginary buildings). Drawings of past buildings could be based on archaeological evidence (cf. fig. 84.1, 2, 4) or be artists' reconstructions (e.g. fig. 97.3) of what a building or monument might have looked like. Drawings of existing buildings could be idealized (e.g. fig. 86.1-4), realistic (e.g. fig. 85.2) or actually measured. A temporal drawings could involve possible buildings, such as Steven's anachronistic view of Emmaus (fig. 85.2), or purely fanciful constructions, as in some of Piranesi's more exotic prisons. Perspective played a complex role in these developments. On the one hand, it undermined such distinctions by creating images which subjected archeological record (fig. 96.1), architectural plan (fig. 96.2), architectural phantasy (fig. 96.3), architectural reality (fig. 96.4) and artist's reconstruction (fig. 96.5) to the same spatial rules. On the other hand, precisely because of its window principle, which introduced a possibility of testing and measuring potential matches between representations and object, perspective was crucial in making these distinctions possible (cf. below 2.4). The details of these distinctions cannot concern us here.48 It will suffice merely to note that their evolution went hand in hand with the rise of treatises on perspective and indeed a whole corpus of technical literature on drawing (fig. cf. below p. ). Already in the sixteenth century professions such as surveying developed their own literature49 and by the nineteenth century this had led to a special branch of plan drawing. Cartographers developed a literature on map drawing (cf. fig. ); engineers on engineering drawing and architects on architectural drawing. The distinction between existing and projected buildings led to a special branch of planned drawings called architectural drafting. A branch devoted specifically to

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shadows (considered earlier on p. ) also evolved which became linked in turn with geometry. At least some of these developments must be considered in more detail. Hirschvogel (1544), had consciously cited perspective as bringing together architecture and geometry (cf. p. ). By the nineteenth century, these links between architecture and geometry had developed considerably. In some cases they involved traditional Euclidean geometry as in Toussaint's (1812) Simplified treatise of theoretical and practical geometry and architecture, Bennett's (1837) Original geometrical illustrations or the book of lines, circles, triangles, polygons indispensable to architects and Burns (1853) Illustrated London practical geometry and its application to architecture drawing. Tabacchi (1844), was one of the first to link descriptive geometry, perspective and architecture. This Italian work was followed by a French treatise by Peyrat (1865): Descriptive geometry applied to graphical instructions in general, to architecture, drawing of perspective and the determination of shadows. The next decades brought Tessari (1860, 1883), Applications of descriptive geometry, The theory of shadows and of chiaroscuro...for the use of engineers, architects and designers, and Schreiber (1884 cf. 1822, etc.). Twentieth century examples included Smutz (1938), Fischer (1942) and Lippold (1949). In rare cases, such as Mondino's (1962), Perspective and the theory of shadows. Applications of descriptive geometry and central projection for the use of students of the faculty of architecture, perspective, descriptive geometry, shades and shadows and architecture were all discussed together. Meanwhile, each of these had also emerged as independent themes (cf. p. ). In a general sense, architectural drawing had emerged with the study of Roman ruins in the fifteenth century (p. ). Even so, one of the first works specifically devoted to the subject was Nicholson's (1795), Principles of architecture containing the true method of drawing ichnography and orthography of objects, geometrical rules for shadows, which went through numerous editions (1809, 1827, 1831, 1841, 1848). Shortly afterward in France, Lagardette (1803), also a pioneer with respect to shades and shadows, published, New rules for the practice of drawing and wash drawing in architecture. As the nineteenth century progressed, there were efforts to relate architectural drawing within a larger context of technical drawing. For example, authors such as Weale (1841) and Burn (1854, 1856, 1860, 1882, 1893), wrote on architectural, mechanical and engineering drawing. Willson (1898) wrote on science, engineering and architectural drawing. Burg (1830) and Robinet (1842, 1855, 1859) wrote on architectural and mechanical drawing, a theme which Armengaud (1848) pursued in his Course of industrial drawing applied principally to mechanics and architecture. Henry des Vosges (1843, 1845, 1846), and Reid (1848, 1858, 1859), wrote on architecture and surveying. Pyne (1864, 1894) addressed operation builders and architects. Davidson (1869, 1871, 1882, 1896) addressed building constructors and architects. Linear drawing, as a branch which applied to all the

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building trades, was also emerging through authors such as Heissig (1855, 1863), Julien (1861) and Anonymous (1875). Meanwhile, by the 1850's, a trend towards specialization was also evident, with books specifically on architectural drawing by Etex (1850), Graeb (1855), Gantz (1856), Spiers (1887, 1888, 1892, 1902, 1905), Edminster (1899, 1902). This trend continued in the twentieth century with Roberts (1906, 1907, 1916), Field (1922, 1932, 1943), Loundes (1930, 1935, 1938), Hake (1929, 1948) and Farey (1931, 1949). The nineteen sixties saw an upsurge in publications with Halse (1960), Bonfigli (1962), Coulin (1966), Mller (1967), Lockard (1968) and Jacoby (1969). More recently there were publications by Bruzda (1971), McGinty (1980) and Knig (1979, 1984). Many of these were more primitive than their nineteenth century predecessors, mainly because traditional tasks in this field were increasingly coming within the realm of computers (see below p. ). The nineteenth century also brought a gradual distinction between drawings of existing buildings (architectural drawing), and plans for further buildings (architectural drafting), though this varied from country to country. In France, for instance, both drawing and drafting, remained part of a more general concept of dessin. In England, there was again no standard term for drafting. Burn (1857) dealt with it under Ornamental drawing and architectural design, while Tuthill (1881, 1891, 1892, 1894, 1897, 1902, 1905, 1914, 1915) did so in, Practical lessons in architectural drawing or how to make working drawings and write the specifications of buildings. In Germany,,there evolved a branch of drawing concerned specifically with plans (Entwrfsdarstellungen) as in Seeger (1969). Drafting emerged as an independent field particularly in the United States, where Armengaud's (1848) Cours de dessin industriel, was translated as The practical draughtsman's book of industrial design forming a complete course of mechanical, engineering and architectural drawing (1853, etc., cf. Andr, 1874). In the twentieth century Hornung's (1910), Architectural drafting became a standard work with at least five subsequent editions (1949, 1954, 1955, 1966, 1971). Other significant works have included Stegman (1914, 1966), Fischer (1942), Barnes (1960) and Bellis (1961). But here, even more so than in the case of architectural drawing, the development of computer aided design (CAD) has been changing the field so rapidly that there is at present no standard textbook (see below p. ). While there have been many innovations, there has also been a striking continuity of images and problems within architectural treatises. For instance, the vault has been a regular theme ever since Piero della Francesca used it in On perspective for painting. Serlio (1544, etc.) used it as did Lautensack (1564). In the seventeenth century, Dubreuil (1642-1649) used it a number of times and it remains a stock image as witnessed by Schaarwchter's (1967) Perspectives for architecture. A similar continuity is evident in terms of problems. In the nineteenth century, authors such as Edwards (fig. 64.1-2, 1803) and Schreiber (1854) offered multiple

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perspectival views of a given building. Morgan (1950) provided a more systematic treatment of this problem in Architectural drawing, perspective, light and shadow, rendering, and the latest developments in computer aided design (p. ) can be seen as a direct elaboration of these principles. Or one might cite the example of Cloquet (1823), who offered both abstract geometrical and photograph-like perspectival drawingsw of various scenes in his Treatise of picturesque perspective, a method which was taken up by La Gournerie (1859, 1884, 1898) and which has become widespread in the last decades through a juxtaposition of photographs and line drawings (p. ). Authors such as Hiss (1985), who distinguish between three levels of perspective drawing--base perspective, design study and final perspective--have simply taken this approach one step further. 4. Drawing To understand the larger context of these developments it is necessary to return to the distinctions between pleasurable and useful drawings, mentioned earlier (p. ). In the sixteenth century useful drawings were divided into architectural and mechanical drawings. The latter category led to collections of different machines such as Besson and Ramelli and specific mechanical devices such as fountains and wells (e.g. Vredeman de Vries,1568). Such books had straightforward examples with little or no explanation. By the nineteenth century, books on specific mechanical devices such as mills (e.g. Bckler 16xx) with some explanation appeared. By the eighteenth century engineers such as Leupold (1727) moved in the direction of general principles of machines, an idea which F. Reuleaux developed in his Kinematics of machinery.50 To convey this knowledge also required developments in drawing techniques. Literature on drawing of machines, as noted earlier was frequently linked with architectural and engineering drawing, but gradually emerged as an independent branch of machine drawing or mechanical drawing.51 As in the case of architecture, further distinctions arose between existing and planned states, which led to specific books on machine drawing and machine drafting or design. Meanwhile, because all technical drawings involved constructions with the aid of instruments a distinction arose in Germany between construction drawing, and freehand drawing which applied to artistic and aesthetic domains. Construction drawing included applications to professions such as architecture and engineering and various trades such as bricklayers, carpenters, decorators, locksmiths, masons, etc. These distinctions varied from country to country. In France, dessin remained the general term for both technical and aesthetic domains. Industrial drawing became a term for technical applications involving professions, while linear drawing applied to trades in general. The Larousse Encyclopdie asserted that linear drawing included "tracing of working drawings, of elementary, descriptive and analytical geometry, ordinary and isometrical perspective, drawings of architecture, machines and topography."52 In England, construction drawing was frequently referred to as geometry applied to art (cf. fig. ), while freehand

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drawing was simply called drawing. In the United States these distinctions between useful and pleasurable drawing emerged as technical drawing versus fine arts. If the precise relations between drawing and descriptive geometry or mathematics as a whole varied from country to country, the net result of these relations was the same everywhere. They introduced a vision of a single set of laws underlying the near infinite diversity of applications. As a result, in the nineteenth century, literature began to go in two opposing directions. One involved ever more branches of drawing: architectural, engineering, industrial, machine, map, plan, technical, etc. (fig. ). The other involved a quest for a universal graphic language which would encompass all these variants, which has been inherited by the realm of computer aided design and which helps explain why distinctions between technical and aesthetic drawing have never become as clear cut as some might have wished. Even so there had been a number of developments specifically related to pleasurable or aesthetic drawings. At the beginning of the sixteenth century an implicit distinction had arisen between drawings of artifice (luxuries of the man made world) and nature (luxuries of the natural world. With respect to the former, Leonardo devoted a section of his Treatise on Painting to drapery,53 and drew various examples thereof in his notebooks. He also made several hundred drawings of grotesques, as well as numerous costumes, hats and ornaments. Some of these themes became subjects of separate books later in the century, as in the case of costumes (Amman )54 and ornament (Cock, Liefrinck, Dietterlin),55 while others such as hats, were treated in sections of drawing books (e.g. Vogtherr).56 By the nineteenth century most of these had become independent topics and in the case of ornament or costume there were even independent bibliographies. As for nature, the situation was more complex. With respect to topics such as the human figure, a considerable literature evolved in the sixteenth century, proceeding in no less than four directions: anatomy (e.g. Leonardo, c. 1480-1815); proportion (Drer, 1528); geometry (Stoer,1567) and subsequently, perspective (Lautensack, 1564; Cousin, le jeune, 1595, etc.). In the case of animals such as horses there were apparently treatises on their geometry, i.e. quadrature, and perspective by Foppa (148_) and Bramante (14__). In Soden Smith's catalogue of drawing books, the earliest examples date from the 1640's, namely, A. Cuyp's (1641), Various qaudruped animals drawn from life, and G. Fyt's (1642), Etchings of dogs.57 As far as aesthetic treatment was concerned, the botanical realms of nature evolved later. To be sure Leonardo, Drer and their contemporaries drew a number of isolated examples of flowers, fruits and trees. Nonetheless, most sixteenth century treatises focussed on the useful and necessary aspects thereof, particularly with respect to their medicinal purposes. Indeed, in Soden Smith's list, the earliest

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aesthetic book on flowers was Syme's (1810), Practical directions for learning flowers, and in the case of trees, Laporte's Sketches of trees (1798-1801).58 Landscape, on the other hand, had begun in sixteenth century treatises on perspective such as the one edited by Rodler (1531), although the earliest examples recorded by Soden Smith were Stoer (1617), Preissler's (1734), Introduction which one can use in imitating beautiful landscapes in perspective, and Smith's (1797), Remarks on rural scenery with twenty etchings of cottages from nature.59 As for marine scenes, by the 1550's, Cock had produced a number of engravings of ships. In the seventeenth century, Robert Dudley produced remarkable manuscripts60 on the subject. Even so the earliest work in Soden Smith's list was an anonymous (1827) Book of shipping of various classes from the cutter to the first rate from drawings by Lieutenant Luna and others.61 Hence by the nineteenth century, what had begun as a simple category of pleasurable drawings, had spawned literature involving various aspects of the man made world (notably costumes, drapes, hats, grotesques, ornament) and nature. Soden Smith's standard catalogue, for instance, included 123 works on the human figure, 43 on animals, 7 on flowers, 29 on trees, 88 on landscapes and 13 on marine subjects. 5. Drawing Education These practical changes in drawing were accompanied by institutional ones, which reflected both theoretical and philosophical developments, which had begun in the sixteenth century with efforts by Leonardo to create a systematic framework for representation. Lomazzo (1585), reduced these precepts to a list of five basic concepts: proportion, force (and motion), colour, light and perspective.62 De Piles63 and others produced their own variants on this list of ingredients. Bracquemond (1885) expanded it to include: drawing, colour, warmth, reflections (and chiaroscuro), value, outline (and modelling), line (mass and silhouette), perspective, effect, execution, ornament and decoration.64 As for the goals of art, each country seemed to go in a different direction. In Germany, the tradition of Drer, Frst, Testelin, Bloemart, Preissler and Herz emphasized geometrical drawing.65 In Italy, ever since Alberti, there had been an emphasis on composition and aspects of the story (istoria). In addition there were also major regional differences ranging from the Venetian preoccupation with colour, to the Florentine concern with chiaroscuro, to create effects of relief through line drawing. In the Netherlands, thinkers such as Van Mander and Hoogstraeten developed their own version of the story telling goal. Hoogstraeten, for instance, described nine types of story telling to correspond to each of the muses.66 In France, debates shifted to questions of technique, namely, to relative values of line versus colour, which sparked a major controversy between Poussinists and Rubenists.67

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By the mid-seventeenth century it appeared that perspective was losing the significance it had once had. Indeed the decision of the French Academy to oust Bosse as professor of perspective (see above p. ) appeared only to confirm this trend. Then there is the as yet untold story of the role that perspective played in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries as the academies of (fine) arts, particularly in Rome, Florence, Milan, Paris, London, Vienna, and Copenhagen became public institutions and, alas all too often, prisons for the imagination as members of the avante garde would one day complain. At the same time there were other currents, which led in the opposite direction and were destined to make perspective a fundamental aspect of drawing. Part of this impetus came from philosophers such as Locke (1693)68 and Rousseau (1762),69 who decided that perspective should become a basic ingredient in the education of children.70 How to teach drawing properly, and what should be the goals of drawing became a matter of increasing debate. Leonardo da Vinci had considered at least three distinct goals of representation: at one extreme, nature; in between, models, and at the other extreme, imagination. By the latter seventeenth century, the ideas of Lairesse, which favoured the copying and imitation of models had gained ascendancy. By the later eighteenth century two intermediate positions found powerful new exponents. The Swiss philosopher of education, Pestalozzi (1746-1847) argued that models might be used to develop the imagination,71 while Thibaut (1757-1826), professor of perspective at the school of architecture in Paris argued that models and perspective might be used in nature drawing. Pestalozzi's position was developed by Joseph Schmid (1809), who argued that this approach to imagination via models could be aided by the use of geometry and perspective which led, in turn to no less than five further responses in the early nineteenth century: 1) Reissmann (1801, etc.), who claimed that one could stimulate imagination via geometrical forms and perspective; 2) Boniface (1823), who emphasized perspective as a stimulus to the imagination; 3) Ramsauer (1821), who proposed the use of models, geometry, perspective and even some nature in stimulating imagination; 4) Francke (1833, 1836), who emphasized copying examples using perspective and; 5) Harnisch and Platz (1815), who favoured stigmographic drawing with some perspective. Later in the century there were two further responses; 6) Glinzer (1868), who insisted on dictation drawing to help the imagination, which method Pillet (1882) subsequently linked with perspective; 7) Soldan (1830) and Bes (1891, 1896), who believed that projection drawing and perspective offered a key to the imagination. Meanwhile, Thibault's opposing school, which emphasized the use of models for nature drawing, led to two important responses. The chief of these was by his student, Thnot (1803-1857), who emphasized (1826) the use of perspective and some models. His work proved influential and was soon translated into Dutch (1829), German (1833, etc.), American (1834, etc.), English (1836, etc.) and subsequently Italian (1870). A second response to Thibaut came from Peter Schmid (1828) who emphasized models, but adcknowledged the use of

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perspective, shades and shadows in the process. This in turn inspired a clearer formulation by the brothers Ferdinand and Alexandre Dupuis (pl. 1820-1840), who argued for the use of both geometrical and perspectival models in the process of nature drawing.72 This approach won such acclaim that it was introduced into Germany in the next decades by Wolfgang (1825-1874), Frstenberg (1854) and Domschke (1876), and into the Netherlands by Parv (1852), Bergmann (1857) and Braet von Ueberfeldt (1863). The next generation saw a series of German books on nature drawing which emphasized the use of perspective, namely, Seeberger (1871), Huther (1872), Audel (1880), Kuchinka (1880), Lang (1880), Steigl (1880), Kajetan (1881) and Gennerich (1882). The result of these developments was that perspective became integrated into the whole spectrum of drawing, ranging from natural objects, and man made models through purely imaginary objects as becomes evident from a brief examination of some of the key programmes. In the Encyclopdie (1754) drawing was defined as the art of imitating and the chief objects of study were listed as the human figure, animals, landscapes, draperies, flowers and fruits.73 Joseph Schmid's programme for imagination via models had five basic steps; 1) exercises for the education of the hand for drawing; 2) drawing exercises in making and inventing beautiful forms; 3) exercises which lead to development and strengthening of the imagination; 4) exercises in real or mathematical copying of natural objects and; 5) exercises in perspectival development.74 Peter Schmid's programme for nature drawing via models had four steps: 1) bodies of plane figures; 2) bodies of curved figures; 3) practical perspective; and 4) shades and shadows.75 His successors, the brothers Dupuis, took for granted the use of perspective in their programmes and concentrated on defining more precisely the models to be used. Ferdinand Dupuis outlined five levels of inorganic models: 1) simplest geometrical figures; 2) straight lined geometrical figures; 3) composite figures including characteristics of one and two; 4) stereometric figures; and 5) furniture, ceilings, pillars, columns and ornaments.76 Alexandre Dupuis had a four stage programme for more organic forms: 1) heads, plastercast, and live; 2) human form; 3) ornament; 4) flowers.77 Bergmann's programme (1857) read like a synthesis of the two: geometry, light, flowers, ornament, landscape, figures, animals, perspective, light and shade.78 The Universal dictionary of the nineteenth century ( 1870), in its article on drawing, cited a passage by Delacroix, which gave some indication of how important perspective had, in the meantime become: Drawing, he said, is not to reproduce an object as it is, that being the task of the sculptor, but as it appears and this is the task of the person who draws and the painter. The latter achieves by means of gradations of tints that which the other began by means of proper disposition of lines. In a word it is perspective which one needs to place, not in the spirit, but in the eye of a student. I will say to the instructor: with your proportions and

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perspective by A plus B, you will not teach me other than truths and in art all is lies....Whatever be the object that a person who draws proposes to reproduce, they are still obliged above all to know and to respect the laws of perspective. There is linear perspective and aerial perspective. The former, for which descriptive geometry furnishes the rules, suffices for drawing, which only makes use of projections [and] contours. The second, which has as its object the apparent modifications, which plays of light and shade cause forms to undergo, finds its application in coloured images, either monochrome, as are drawings in sepin or china ink, or multicoloured. One might say that on a canvas, drawing gives the linear perspective and colour the aerial perspective.79 The latter part of this passage is particularly interesting because it suggests that the earleir debate of line versus colour, of the Rubenistes versus Poussinistes, had now been resolved through a synthesis of linear and colour perspective. Even more instructive was the section on drawing in the Dictionary of Pedagogy (1881). The author emphasized the importance of perspective and noted that: the developed theory of perspective gave cognisance of the procedures imagined by geometers in order to obtain optical appearances in all cases in which it is necessary for a professional painter and especially an architect to know how to execute the same.80 It was conceded that: "the goal of study is drawing after nature but it is here that deeper study begins. In an elementary study one will not go beyond drawing based on a model."81 This elementary course was, however, considerably more complex there one might imagine as becomes clear from the teaching in elementary schools as reported in the Dictionary (1881): Elementary Course Tracing of straight lines and their division into equal parts. The evaluation of the relation of lines to one another; reproduction and evaluation of lines. First principles of drawing of ornament. Circumferences regular polygons, stellated roses. Copies of plasters representing ornaments in plan of low relief. First notions of geometrical drawing and elements of perspective. Geometrical representation in projection and perspectival representation in projection, then with shadows of geometrical solids and simple ordinary objects. Geometrical drawing. Use (at the board) of instruments serving the tracing of straight lines and circumferences: rule, compass, square and protractor. To limit oneself in this part of the course, to have pupils understand the use of these instruments of which they will acquire skilled use in the upper level course.

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Upper Level Course Drawing with a raised hand Drawing after an engraving and after a relief of purely geometrical ornaments, mouldings, ovals, heart-shaped spokes, indentures, etc. Drawing after engraving and relief ornaments taking their form from the realm of vegetation, leaves, flowers, fruits, little palmettes, foliated scrolls, etc. Elementary notions on the architectural orders given on the blackgoard by the teacher (3 lessons). Drawing of the human body: its parts and proportions. Geometrical drawing. Execution on paper, with the help of instruments, geometrical traces which have been made on the board in the middle level course. Principles of wash drawing with flat tints. Drawing reproducing motifs of decoration of plane surfaces or of a low relief: tiling, parquetry, windows, panels, ceilings. Wash drawing in china ink and in the colour of some of these drawings. To bring into relief with dimension figures, with sides, and geometrical representation in projection of geometrical solids and simple objects such as assemblages of timber, woodwork, exterior dispositions of apparatus of stone, big pieces of ironwork, furniture of the most ordinary type, etc. Use of wash drawing to express the nature of materials. Wash drawings of plans and maps.82 Most interesting of all was the philosophy that lay behind this process. It was not just a matter of teaching the gifted to draw well. There was a conviction that the study of: drawing should not only guide a group of these who would devote themselves to acquire the talent of representing visible things either by pure imitation or in imagining and in inventing in this way to the point of art, but also for those who would not succeed in acquiring this talent or who would only acquire it in a feeble measure, this study, if one founded it on the imitation of excellent models would teach them what is, in fact, exact or inexact, correct or incorrect, beautiful or ugly, graceful or ungraceful, suitable and unsuitable, such that it would thus teach to see better and to judge better and that it would form, finally, [a good] eye and taste, the usefulness of which is almost universal.83 This passage helps to understand why drawing had become universal, why methods which had in the sixteenth century been aimed only at a select body of professions (painters, architects, goldsmiths, etc.), had spread in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries to artistic schools and academies, and in the nineteenth, to trades, secondary schools, primary schools and ultimately all interested laymen. Drawing, and the perspective it entailed had become part of learning how to see, a basic ingredient to a level of taste which was seen as equivalent with civilization

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itself. Ironically once perspective had become so integral a part of drawing, it became typical to think of it as a part of drawing and hence overlook the many titles relating to perspective as they appeared. 6. Mathematics The changing relations between mathematics and perspective are no less complex. Any attempt at a thorough treatment would lead far more deeply into the history of mathematics than is here possible. For our purposes it must suffice if we outline a few major shifts in the classification of mathematics and mention their consequences for books on perspective. The latter fifteenth century brought a particular fascination with the concept of proportion which led the Dominican friar, Luca Pacioli (1494), to compose his monumental Compendium of geometry, proportion and proportionality. For Pacioli, perspective was a branch of proportion and for this reason his compendium became the first printed book to deal with perspective In a subsequent sermon in August 1508 (see p. ) he praised the universal applicability of proportion, mentioning perspective in connection with painting in a long list of disciplines which it affected, namely, theology, philosophy, medicine, astronomy, chorography and cosmography, architecture, inventors of machines, painters, sculptors, musicians, poets, rhetoricians, grammarians, lawyers, mathematicians and the pious. In the latter part of the century Belli (1573), wrote a book on measurement of distance, heights and depths to which he added three books on proportion and proportionality. This fascination with proportion as an organizing category was an inspiration for the proportional compass or sector in the early seventeenth century and the resulting books by Faulhaber, Bramer, etc. maintained the idea of perspective as a branch of proportion (see below 2.1). Meanwhile, Euclid had included surveying propositions in his Optics, and during the mediaeval Arabic tradition, surveying emerged as an important part of optics. With the development of perspective there were also connections between perspective and surveying, whereby perspective became associated with measurement in the tradition of Drer, and actually identified with measurement by the author of the book edited by Rodler (1531). But since Boethius it had become customary to treat the etymology of geometry literally, to mean measurement of the earth, (yn v). As a result geometry and perspective were in some senses synonymous. However, the systematic programme of reviving classical mathematics which began at Urbino with Commandino and Guidobaldo del Monte, meant that perspective was increasingly listed under optics as a subalternate branch of geometry. This process continued after Paris had replaced Urbino as the European centre for mathematical studies (cf. p. ). Indeed, by the sixteen thirties, thinkers

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such as Descartes, Pascal and Desargues had raised the level of abstraction to a point which implicitly required distinctions between different levels. In addition to their high level, there emerged a level of high divulgation (e.g. Bosse), popularization (e.g. Dubreuil), and several levels of simplification (e.g. Frobes), which echoed in readers digest form the ideas of others. The level of high mathematics was continued in the eighteenth century by thinkers such as Brooke Taylor, Lambert and Euler. In the final decades of the century this tradition led individuals such as Tinseau d'Amondas (1777, 1780) and Monge (1785, 1795, 1798, 1799) to integrate developments in practical disciplines such as architecture, dialling, stonecutting, (Frzier), perspective, and surveying in the form of descriptive geometry. In the first decades of the nineteenth century this new field evolved mainly in Paris, through Monge (1811, etc.), Hachette (1815, 1817, 1820, 1827, 1838), Potier (1816, 1817) and Valle (1819, 1822, 1828), Duchesne (1828, 1829), Olivier (1831, 1839, 1840, 1842, 1844, 1844, 1847), Leroy (1834, 1837, 1838, 1842, 1845, 1846), Bardin (1837), Mathieu (1843), Cirodde (1844), Narrien (1846), Biston (1848), Poudra (1849). It soon spread to other centres including Milan (Tabacchi, 1813), Karlsruhe (Schreiber, 1822, 1828, 1833, 1839), Rome (Sereni 1826), New York (Davies 1826, 1844), Cambridge (Hayward 1829), Berlin (Wolff 1835, 1847), Munich (Haindl 1835), Nrnberg (Gugler 1842), Wintherthur (Ziegler 1843), Vienna (Stampfl 1847), Pavia (Pasi 1844) and Padua (Tabacchi 1844). Descriptive geometry now became a general heading under which perspective was classed. Tabacchi (1813) was one of the first to relate precepts of descriptive geometry to drawing. Cloquet (1823) consciously became one of the first to include descriptive geometry in his New elementary treatise of perspective. As he explained in his preface: It happened to me on several occasions that I asked artists who told of their desire to know perspective, whether they had any hint of the first elements of geometry. They replied negatively saying that they had no need thereof, that they wished to know only one perspective or rather painter's perspective. And yet there is only one sole perspective and in my opinion expressing such a desire would be like asking to write without wanting to learn to read. My way of reasoning soon convinced them, but never quite persuaded them altogether. I did, however, observe that among those who turned to me, those who resigned themselves to study the preliminary principles, learned perspective easily and truly, a science of which the painter should not be ignorant. This has led me to reduce the elements of perspective to its essential elements and place them at the disposition of readers without any notion of mathematics, which is fortunately quite rare. I have therefore divided this work into five parts. The first part deals with elementary geometry which I

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have stripped of all matters foreign to our subject, such as those concerning the measurement of surfaces, solids, etc. The second contains purely elementary principles of descriptive geometry, which is nothing more than a consequence or application of the the principles of part one. The third deals with that part of optics which concerns our subject directly, namely optics considered with respect to painting rather than to physics. The fourth deals with the rules of projections of shadows very necessary not only for painters, but also for architects, designers, etc. Finally the fifth deals with perspective which is the last and principal subject with which I propose to deal.84 Haindl (1835), included descriptive geometry as part one of his, Course on the science of drawing and, as mentioned earlier, Brisson (1827) developed a Theory of shadows and perspective, which was subsequently appended to editions of Monge: (e.g. 1838, 1847, etc.). In the second half of the nineteenth century Paris remained a major centre for descriptive geometry with a number of further editions of Leroy (1850, 1859, 1861, 1865, 1867) and Olivier (1851, 1863, 1866), a popular new work by Catalan (1850, 1857, 1861, 1864, 1867, 1868) and others by Babinet (1850), Amiot (1852, 1869), Bisson (1856), La Gournerie (1860), Hughes (1864), Du Peyrat (1865), Dufailly (1869, 1894), Pillet (1879, 1899), Lagrange (1877) and Martin (1897). Cunningham (1867) in his, Notes on the historical method and technical importance of descriptive geometry,85 assessed these developments in terms of three trends: a move towards descriptive geometry as a science in France; in relation to the art of drawing in Germany and an independent movement in England, which emphasized practical geometry (fig. ). With the advantage of hindsight it is possible to recognize further trends which offer a corrective to this picture. For instance, in the 1850's, London also became an important publishing centre for texts on descriptive geometry by Wooley (1850), Heather (1851), who was translating the ideas of Monge; Binns (1865, 1867), and Millar (1878). In New York, interest which had been sparked by Davies (1826, 1844, etc.) was developed by Warren (1860, etc.) and Mahan (1867). In Italy, interest in descriptive geometry was focussed in Northern cities such as Padua (Bellavitis, 1851), Turin (Tessari 1880, 1883), and Milan (Aschieri, 1883; Suini, 1886). Meanwhile, there were four German speaking centres which emerged: Leipzig (e.g. Bnau, 1852; Schreiber, 1865 and Wiener 1885), Berlin (Stoevesandt, 1856; Pohlke, 1860, 1873; Wolff, 1861; Flohr, 1866); Vienna (Heissig, 1859; Schlesinger 1871; Fialkowski 1882) and Stuttgart, (Gugler, 1856, 1875, 1880; Bklen, 1866; Riess, 1871; Vonderlinn, 1888, 1893). Links between publishing houses meant that works appeared in both Leipzig and Berlin (e.g. Schmidt, 1869; Mller 1872; Papperitz, 1893) or in both Leipzig and Vienna (Peschka, 1883). A network of mathematical centres thus emerged, which were simultaneously at the forefront of other developments also.

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Higher or Projective Geometry Ancient mathematicians had distinguished clearly between arithmetic and geometry in terms of number versus extension. The mediaeval and Renaissance emphasis on practical geometry which equated geometry and measurement undermined the clarity of this distinction. In the 1630's Desargues' work suggested a more abstract approach to geometry as a study of projections. Even so almost two centuries passed before Victor Poncelet, left behind by Napoleon, imprisoned on the plains of Saratov (1813-1914), wrote his fundamental book on projective geometry, which appeared in 1822. Durell (1838) wrote an early English work on the subject. K. G. Ch. von Staudt (1847), in his Geometry of position established a basic distinction between descriptive and metrical geometry. The next decades saw further work by Hertzer (1865), Poncelet (1865), and Cremona (1871, 1878, 1885, 1893). Projective geometry, which also became known as higher geometry, now emerged as a heading under which both descriptive geometry and perspective were classed. Meanwhile, the frontiers of projective geometry were being expanded by new discoveries. Traditionally it had been assumed that Euclid provided the foundation for the whole of geometry. Bolyai (1832), Lobachevsky (1840) and Riemann (1854) demonstrated that non-Euclidean geometries were possible. French translations of Lobachevsky (1866), Bolyai (1868) and Riemann (1870) by Houel made these ideas accessible and forced thinkers to reconsider the nature of projective space at the very time that the optical researches of Hering and Helmholtz were challenging thinkers to reconsider the nature of visual space. By the 1880's thinkers were writing on projective and descriptive geometry together: e.g. Aschieri (1883, cf. 1895), Peschka (1883, 1889), Vries de Hecklingen (1902), Gallucci (1935), Mondino (1961) and Nannoni (1978). Doehlemann (1898, 1901, 1905, 1918, 1924) wrote books on both projective geometry and perspective (1916, 1919, 1928). Schaufler (1906) wrote an Introduction to perspective and projective geometry and more recently Morehead (1955) wrote. Perspective and projective geometries: a comparison. Perspective is still frequently classed as a branch of projective geometry. Other developments have, however, shifted this classification anew. Analytic and Algebraic Geometry Serious interest in conic sections began in the sixteenth century with Werner (1522) and with Commandino's (1566) edition of Apollonius and Serenus. In the 1630's, Descartes' explorations of analytical geometry (cf. above p. ), drew attention to different kinds of lines such as ellipses, parabolas and hyperbolas which, it was recognized were all sections of cones. Some of these properties were explored by Descartes' colleagues, Mydorge (1631, 1639) and Pascal (1640). The following decades saw important works on conic sections by Schooten (1646, 1656), Saint Vincent (1847), Courcier (1662) and La Hire (1673). These interests

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continued in the eighteenth century with thinkers such as Le Poivre (1704), L'Hospital (1707, etc.) and Simson (1735, etc.) and it was gradually recognized that conic sections were connected with more universal principles. Murdoch (1746), for instance, wrote Genesis of Newton's curves by shadows or elements of universal perspective illustrated with examples of conic sections and lines of third order, and Vince (1800), Elements of conic sections as preparatory to reading of Sir Isaac Newton's Principia. The 1820's, which saw the emergence of projective geometry, also saw new attention given to conic sections. Plcker (1826-1827), for instance, explored new methods of visualizing these problems and Ohm (1826) wrote a basic work on Analytical and higher geometry in its elements with particular attention to the theory of conic sections. The 1850's and 1860's saw much new activity in this field, including Salomon (1851, 1870), Puckle's (1854), Elementary treatise on conic sections and algebraic geometry, Gerling (1865, 1875) and Staudigl (1875). Leipzig became a centre for these interests. Mbius (1855), for example, introduced homogeneous coordinates in projective space. The work of Salmon was translated from the English and appeared in a number of editions (1860, 1870, 1873, 1878, 1887, 1888, 1898). Erler (1862, 1893) wrote on analytic geometry and conic sections. There were numerous works on conic sections: Geiser (1866, 1867), Eckhardt (1866), Drach (1867), Steiner (1867), Schrter (1867), and Grelle (1869). These interests continued into the twentieth century with Leipzig remaining as a centre until the first world war: e.g. Dette (1909) and Staude (1910). By this time thinkers were exploring connections with other branches of geometry. For example, Rudolphi (1914, cf. 1912) published Analytical geometry of space in relation to descriptive geometry. In Italy, there was a particular interest in comparing analytic and projective geometry with authors such as Martinetti (1926), Fano (1930, 1957), Campedelli (1945, 1970) and Chisini (1960). The work of Van der Waerden (1931-1939) established algebraic geometry as a more universal class, which subsumed projective geometry, descriptive geometry and perspective. Van der Waerden limited himself to exploring algebraic varieties of projective space. Weil (1962) in another fundamental contribution considered algebraic varieties of affine space. As a result of these developments, perspective, our chief means of visualizing the world tends to be classed under algebraic geometry which is non-visual. Two other basic developments in mathematics deserve brief mention. Felix Klein's (1872) Erlangen program proposed that geometries should be classed according to groups of transformations that can be applied without changing basic concepts, axioms and theorems.86 This led Wolf and Wolff (1956)87 to search the secrets of geometry in nature in terms of thirteen transformations (fig. ) while thinkers such as Coxeter and Greitzer (1967)88 reduced these to seven basic types in their genealogy of transformations (fig. ). Efforts to class geometry have also varied

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considerably. Coxeter (1969)89 distinguished simply between absolute and affine geometry. Psychologists such as Hagen (1986)90 distinguished four kinds of geometry: metric, similarity, affine and projective. Architects such as Steadman and March (1972),91 drawing on analogies between geometry and geography, whereby methods of geometry become different kinds of mapping, identified six basic types: identity, isometry, similarity, affinity, perspectivity and topology (fig. ** ). In the process perspective has effectively lost any privileged status as a means of spatial organization. 7. Conclusions Perspective is often described as something particularly linked with the Renaissance which continued until the nineteenth century and then died out. In the opening chapters we showed that this was not the case, that perspective has in fact continued unabated to the present. In this chapter we explored an underlying cause for its apparent demise. Perspective never became an independent concept and was therefore subject the the vagaries of classification of four branches of learning: optics, architecture, drawing and geometry. This had two important consequences. First, changes in classification, particularly in geometry, have shifted the definition of what actually constitutes perspective. In the nineteenth century, perspective included not only one-, two-, and three-point perspective but also various branches of parallel perspective. In the twentieth century, the scope of the term has frequently been restricted to one, two and three point perspective, whereas all parallel versions are classed as projections (e.g. fig.** ).92 Indeed, some would see perspective merely as an example of dilatation, as one of a number of mathematical transformations with no special role in spatial organization. A second consequence has been no less dramatic. A good deal of literature pertaining to perspective has simply been classed as part of the larger fields. Hence, although work on perspective has continued, it has been classed as work in optics, architecture, drawing or geometry. Our bibliography has ignored the artificial barriers imposed by these fields, collecting hitherto disparate materials relating to perspective. Part one has created a framework for a larger picture of the phenomenon of perspective. Part two will explore the consequences of this phenomenon.

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5. INSTRUMENTATION AND SCIENCE

1. Introduction 2. Astronomy 3. Optics 4. Perspective 5. Mathematics 6. Mechanics and Physics 7. Centres 8. Modern Developments.

1. Introduction The development of perspective had fundamental consequences for science, art, the environment and the imagination. Each of these domains will be considered in turn in the chapters that follow. In terms of science, perspective stimulated the use of instruments particularly in astronomy, optics and surveying and introduced a number of mechanical aids including the mirror, window, pantograph, camera obscura and camera lucida. The practical consequences of such instruments for the development of technical drawing have already been noted (see above p. ). Their theoretical consequences lay in focussing attention on the problem of scale and fostering quantification in science. This occurred partly through links between perspective and proportion and partly through the nature of perspectival representation which permitted various scales and views of an object to be related systematically (cf. above p. ). In the case of machines, individual parts could be segmented, and at the same time related back to the whole. Functions could be isolated and catalogued. Thinkers such as Leonardo da Vinci saw in these functions of machines a possibility of cataloguing the powers of nature. Perspective thus became involved with the development of the mechanistic world-view, with its new emphasis on observation, experiment and measurement. We shall show that centres such as Nrnberg, Antwerp, Paris, and London were important in this context and shall also consider more recent developments. By way of introduction, however, it will be useful to return to the traditions of astronomy, optics and surveying. 2. Astronomy Ever since the Babylonians, there had been observation of the heavens and, already in Antiquity, there were instruments to observe the apparent motions of the planets and stars. Yet the focus of attention was on finding a pattern for phenomena such as eclipses of the sun and moon. Since the heavens were assumed to be unchanging, astronomy became primarily a conceptual problem of accounting for a set of recurring events. Indeed, once a basic catalogue of stars visible to the naked eye had been made, there was little incentive to look more closely. Hence, paradoxically, although ancient astronomy produced various instruments for observation of the heavens, it remained in many ways unvisual: a question of deceptive appearances1 rather than of visual truth.

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The development of the planisphere and astrolabe2 imposed a deductive grid on the heavens, not unlike that of Ptolemy's projection in his Geography. Implicitly Ptolemy's planisphere introduced a new assumption: that the same projection principles apply on earth as in the heavens. Yet this had little impact on cosmology until the Renaissance. The astrolabe shared these assumptions and had the added feature that its scale for angular measurements could be applied equally to terrestrial surveying and celestial observation. The optical commentaries of Biagio Pelacani (c. 1390), and the perspectival studies of Commandino (1558), made explicit the universal mathematical principles involved in these instruments, a theme pursued by Commandino's student, Guidobaldo del Monte (1581, 1600) and popularized by Barbaro, who took Commandino's text as the starting point for part six of his Practice of perspective (1568). Contemporaries such as Egnatio Danti, who wrote a perspective (1583), also designed more practical astrolabes. The same Egnatio Danti was involved in the design of sundials for the facade of Santa Maria Novella in Florence and elsewhere. He was working in a long tradition. Gnomonic devices had been associated with astronomy at least since Babylonian times. Yet, Renaissance perspectival theorists had a basic impact on this tradition. They developed sundials into highly complex polygonal devices, which used shadows to demonstrate anamorphic effects (figs. 48.1-49.4). Meanwhile, thinkers such as Desargues (1643) and Maignan (1648), showed that these instruments too were based on universal mathematical principles. In so doing, the perspectival authors of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries prepared the way for Monge's famous insight of the eighteenth century that various practical applications in sundials, stonecutting and surveying all had a common theoretical basis in (descriptive) geometry. Perspective focussed attention on the theoretical, mathematical aspects of instruments and thus helped make them an integral part of the scientific revolution. 3. Optics The optical tradition also played its role in these developments. Euclid's Optics, although concerned primarily with psychological aspects of vision, dealt with surveying problems in four propositions. This introduced important links between what one sees and measures. Among the Arabs (e.g. Al-Farabi),3 and later in the Latin West (e.g. Gundissalinus),4 these evolved into links between what one sees and what one measures with instruments. By the latter thirteenth century Witelo, in his optical thesaurus, could describe how it is "possible for a plane mirror to be positioned in a room such that in it are seen those things which recur in another house or places or streets" and explain that this could be done "using an astrolabe, or quadrant or some other instrument for the certification of sight."5 Criteria for the certification of sight to guard against the potential deceptivenes of vision, had been a concern among the Stoics.6 Witelo's claim that one could use instruments in this process of certification marked an important advance. It meant that optical theorists were developing criteria for testing the veracity of visual

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images at about the same time that artists began painting images which could be tested in terms of optical veracity. Hence Witelo's concerns went hand in hand with a new interest in naturalism introduced by the Franciscans, and which Duccio and Giotto developed a generation later, creating what we would term visual metaphor (see below p. ). Indeed, Witelo's use of a mirror to record what was happening outside an enclosed space, presaged in an uncanny way essential elements of Brunelleschi's demonstration of perspective nearly a century and a half later. The optical tradition linked what one sees and what one measures with instruments. The advent of perspective linked what one sees, measures with instruments, and what one represents. In the latter fifteenth century, with Francesco di Giorgio Martini, this amounted to little more than physically recording one's measurements on an interposed rod or plane. In the sixteenth century, these links between optics, surveying and perspective increased dramatically. For instance, Gemma Frisius (154 ) explicitly described how an architect or painter could use his surveying instrument in drawing architectural views, townscapes and topographical maps.7 In the latter sixteenth century the use of surveying instruments for drawing views and maps had become common practice. Indeed, Bassentin (1555) could claim that instruments were essential for proper measurement: Since it is not at all possible that the sense [of sight] and reason can know well the true quantity of acute and variable angles, it would be very difficult to comprehend the true quantity of a thing by the science of optics (perspective) alone. For this reason the ancient geometers and measurers invented certain artificial instruments and by means of these made it possible to know the quantities of things easily with the certitude of these.8 Bassentin mentioned the use of various instruments for these purposes, including the quadrant, geometrical triangle, Jacob's staff, geometrical rod and the astrolabe. With authors such as Bartoli (1564), the quest emerged to measure everything, lines, areas and volumes and to represent these systematically. The quest emerged also for a single instrument which could achieve this. Besson's (1567) cosmolabe was an early attempt. It was designed to record all dimensions of planes and heights geometrically, as well as descriptions made by perspective and surveying, to describe the stars of the heavens on a globe and to transform regular paintings into anamorphic ones.9 By the end of the sixteenth century, the military advantages of these surveying instruments with perspectival applications had been clearly recognized by Specklin (pl.58.4,1589) and Romano (1595), an approach which Hulsius (1605, pl. 58.1) and Faulhaber (1610) pursued. 4. Perspectival Instruments Mirror

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Meanwhile a number of perspectival instruments had emerged, which played an important role in making vision and representation into quantitative activities. The simplest of these perspectival aids was the mirror which had interested Witelo, and which Brunelleschi used in his original perspectival construction as suggested by Manetti10 and according to accounts by Filarete: look at a pavement of square blocks of wood that is stretched out in front of you.... All the sides are equidistant from one another and [yet] looking at them it will seem that they are greater and less, such that those which are closer to you will appear more equal and to the extent that they are more distant, the more they appear attached together in such a way that they all appear to be one. And if you wish to consider the matter better, take a mirror and look into it. You will see clearly that it is thus. And if they were directly in front of the eyes they would all appear equal. And thus I believe that Pippi di ser Brunellescho, the Florentine, found the way to make this plane, which was truly a subtle and beautiful thing, which finds by demonstration that which shows itself to you in a mirror.11 Whether or not the mirror actually led Brunelleschi to arrive at his rule has been sufficiently discussed in the secondary literature.12 For our purposes it is of interest to note that Leonardo may have used plane mirrors in his painting practice which may account for paintings such as the Woman at her Toilet (fig. 53.1) by a member of the school of Fontainebleau, which shows a face reflected in a mirror. In any event, the idea remained, and at the turn of the seventeenth century the mirror recurred as a perspectival aid in Stevin's treatise (1605): The description of the image (which induced us herebefore to define a glass) appeared so suitable to his Princely Grace, that he wanted not only to imagine such an image in a glass, but also actually to draw it therein, and to this end, he had a glass made in the way shown in the annexed figure, where A denotes the glass (which was the glass of a large crystal mirror), pivoting about the hinge B, so that it may be put as straight or inclined as desired and fixed by means of the small screw C. The hole through which one may look is D, which can be pushed nearer to or further away from the glass and be fixed with the small screw E. The glass may also be set higher or lower and then be fixed with the small screw F. It seems it may be said in truth that postures of men cannot possibly be drawn so perfectly at sight, without a glass.13 According to Stevin, all this was the idea of his prince (fig. 53.3). Was this actually his invention or might not this reflect Brunelleschi's original instrument? Mirrors continued to hold their fascination. Salomon de Caus (1612) entitled his treatise, On perspective with the reason of shadows and mirrors. Hamilton (1738), in his title, referred specifically to: reflections by polished planes. Philips Jacobszoon (1775) entitled one work Introduction to the perspective of mirrors and wrote another (1780), in order that, using the laws of perspective, one can

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represent all objects in flat mirrors. At the end of the eighteenth century, Martius (fig. 55.4) produced another descendent of Brunelleschi's device. Reflection remained a theme in the titles of Dennis (1876, etc.), Heyn (1885), and Fuchs (1902). It is important to recall that not only plane mirrors were used. A fourteenth century Boccaccio manuscript (fig. 52.1) showed a woman using a convex mirror in painting her portrait. It is likely that the image depicted on a convex mirror by Petrus Christus (fig. 53.2) was achieved by similar means. Indeed, it may well be the case that the "curvilinear" perspective in Fouquet (fig. 53.30 and Witz (fig. 53.4) was also achieved with the help of convex mirrors. Rodler (1531, 1546) is one of the few authors who specifically discussed the use of convex mirrors with respect to perspective. Window The perspectival window (velo, rete, pariete), was by far the most popular of perspectival instruments. Alberti (1434) claimed that it was indispensable for perspectival construction.14 Piero della Francesca (c. 1480) described it, Leonardo drew it (c. 1490), Drer (1525) published it, and via Barbaro (1568), it subsequently became known as Drer's window in Italy. Drer's student, Rodler (1531) used the window for landscapes, an idea which found both military15 and practical applications (fig. 58.1-2). The window became much more than a simple mechanical aid. According to Danti (1583), Tommaso Laureti produced a model window specifically to demonstrate the principles of perspective, an idea subsequently taken up by the French Academy of Sciences. As early as the 1490's Leonardo da Vinci devised games which used the window principles to improve one's judgment of distance.16 Later authors such as Accolti (1625) and Bosse (1648) used the window to reveal reciprocal relationships of size and distance and as a tool for imposing a geometrical framework on nature. This made possible the equations between optics, geometry and perspective, which were taken for granted until the nineteenth century and have continued to the present (cf. above p. ). Filarete described a variant of the window method involving a string, which Drer published, and which Danti (1583) again popularized in Italy (fig. 55.1). Pfintzing (1598) took up this method and reported on improvements introduced by Hans Haiden (c. 1590, figs. 54.5-6). This version of the window principle was adapted by Marolois (1614, fig. 55.2), and remained popular throughout the eighteenth century, as witnessed by Martius (1789, fig. 55.3-4). Drer also published a third version of the window principle (fig. 54.1), the military implications of which were explored by Faulhaber (fig. 54.3). Such versions of the window principle allowed one to take a foreshortened view of a fort and work backwards in determining the layout of its ground-plan, thus illustrating practically the principle

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of reversibility. The effects of geometrical transformations of images could now be followed. The window had other functions. It became a standard means of demonstrating the principles of the legitimate construction to such an extent that Benedetti (1585) could equate the two. Nor did this popularily diminish in the seventeenth century. The window now served to demonstrate the complexities of intersecting planes: not only the interplay between patterns on the floor and window, but also between patterns on the ceiling and window, or what happens when the floor is tilted upwards and downwards. Aleaume (1643) was among the first to study these conditions systematically (figs. 30.1-4). The way had been prepared by Marolois (figs. 31.1). Desargues (1636, etc.) explored the consequences, for the implication was that all these practical instances were concrete examples of some more universal principle of interesting planes. This realization did not make the window obsolete. It continued to be a standard item in the introductions to treatises on perspective. Eighteenth century thinkers such as Hamilton (1764) produced ever more elegant illustrations of practical examples of intersections (fig. 31.2). Monge's breakthrough was, in a sense, a new way of relating the practical window to the abstract principles underlying it (fig. 31.3). The window, then, was much more than a simple tool for perspective. It was a means of visualizing mathematical principles of planes and, it could be claimed, made possible a whole school of visual geometry (anschauliche Geometrie) as later developed by Hilbert.17 As such, the window proved as much a tool for abstraction, as it was an aid in concrete representation. Pantograph The window also served for systematic alterations in scale. But for this purpose another instrument was developed. Lencker (1571) designed a prototype which involved rulers and compasses (fig. 56.1). Marolois (1604) designed a second prototype (fig. 56.2), which was subsequently made famous by Scheiner (1631) and appeared in ever more elegant versions in the eighteenth (fig. 56.3) and nineteenth centuries (fig. 56.4). Camera obscura During the middle ages, the camera obscura was used to demonstrate optical principles by Alkindi and Alhazen.18 In 1285 Guillaume de Saint Cloud used it in observing a solar eclipse.19 In 1342 Levi ben Gerson, at the court of Avignon, used a camera obscura in combination with a Jacob's staff in studying a solar eclipse.20 By the end of the fifteenth century, the camera obscura was being used for a variety of optical demonstrations. Leonardo da Vinci devoted over 270 diagrams to it.21 Cesariano, in his edition of Vitruvius, reported a device found out and verified by the Benedictine monk and architect, Don Papnutio, which:

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if it be properly fixed in a leaf of a door or in front of a window shut, so that no light may enter, and if you have a piece of white paper or other material upon which everything passing through the aperture may be represented, you will see everything contained in the earth or sky according to the pyramid found through the aperture and with their colour and forms.22 Beginning with Porta (1558, etc.), the camera obscura began to be recommended specifically as an aid to representation.23 In the seventeenth century, this idea was taken up by the Jesuits such as Leurechon (1626), Bettini (1642, fig. 57.2), Kircher (1646, fig. 57.1), and Zahn (1665), and also attracted the attention of important scientists such as Robert Hooke (1669) and Robert Boyle (1669). This continued in the eighteenth century, when Brander (1764, 1767, 1769) developed camera obscuras in combination with microscopes and telescopes, and Hseler (1779) developed a version in keeping with the theories of Euler. The artistic applications of the camera obscura also became ever more widespread. Gravesande (1711) described a complex portable version in his treatise in perspective. Nollet (1735) described another portable versions. The Encyclopdie listed a number of versions. How widespread its use had become is suggested by a textbook in landscape painting in 1796: A good number of persons apparently believe that one can reproduce a place most correctly using a camera obscura and it is no doubt true that I achieve a proper representation of a place by this means. Even so, it is much more beautiful and better when I draw from Nature directly and without the help of a camera obscura.... The camera obscura is primarily a good tool for amateurs and those who cannot draw from Nature directly or do not wish to learn how to do so.24 Camera Lucida In the nineteenth century the camera obscura continued to be used but artists turned increasingly to a new invention, the camera lucida invented by Wollaston (1807) and developed by Amici (1823), Dollond (1830) and Chevalier (1830). 5. Mathematics and Proportion Taken in isolation any one of these perspectival instruments might readily have been dismissed as mere mechanical aids, simple technical shortcuts with no relevance for high level theory and science. By the end of the fifteenth century, however, a larger context was emerging. Luca Pacioli (1494) saw perspective as intimately connected with matematical proportion, and saw instruments such as the ruler and compass as a means of achieving this. With respect to proportion be claimed:

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Perspective, if one regards it properly would certainly be nothing if this did not accompany it. Which is amply demonstrated by the monarch of painting of our time, Master Piero della Francesca...Bellini, Malatini, Botticelli, Luca and Pietro da Cortona and Melozzo da Forli who, always proportioning with ruler and compasses bring their work to admirable perfection in such a way that they represent themselves as divine rather than human in our eye.25 He went on to claim that number, measure and proportion were basic to all the arts and sciences. These ideas he pursued on 11 August 1508 when, in the church of Saint Bartholomew in Venice he gave a sermon on proportion claiming that it applied to philosophy, physics, natural philosophy, medicine, astronomy, geography, painting, music, rhetoric, law, ethics and religion as well as perspective. In his mind, proportion was a key to all human knowledge.26 Already in 1494 Pacioli had taken a further step in claiming that the eye on its own was unreliable and that one needed instruments to achieve correct proportion and perspective: With the mechanical arts, considering all the exercises and trades, one does not see faithfully by the eye alone. If you take from their hands the square and compass with their proportion, they do not know what they are doing.27 Nor was he alone in this view. Leonardo made similar claims.28 Caporali (1536), in his edition of Vitruvius, also assumed a necessary link between instruments, measurement and perspective. The compass, he claimed: is more necessary for the measurements of geometry and perspective than any other instrument because, with this, all lineal demonstrations are measured and the angular things to which one extends the terminations of lines and divisions...as is well known to the expert line makers who are especially perspectivists.29 In this context we see in a new light Drer's treatment of perspective in his Instruction in measurement...using the ruler and compass (1525), and similar works by Rodler (1531) and Lautensack (1567). Instrumentation and perspective were now twin keys to universal measurement. The compass and ruler remained important. In 1560, Tartaglia published the fifth part of his General treatise of numbers and measures...in which is shown the way to execute with the compass and ruler all the geometrical problems of Euclid and other philosophers. The latter sixteenth century also saw the development of at least three new kinds of compasses to deal with this bold task of universal measurement.30 One of these was developed by Fabrizio Mordente in the 1550's, while on a great journey which took him to India, Spain, Portugal, England,

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Belgium, France, Germany, Czechoslovakia and Austria. It had four moveable points along a two-pronged compass. In 1572, he presented a version of this compass to the Emperor Maximilian. In 1575, with the accession to the throne of the new emperor, Rudolph II, he presented a new version of the compass.31 In 1584, Mordente dedicated a book on this compass to the emperor, explaining that it dealt with all the problems of Euclid.32 The book contained chapters on lines, surfaces, bodies and distances and showed how the compass was intended to be used in conjunction with a ruler on which were inscribed lines of various proportions. The fascination with proportion33 had led in the meantime to the discovery of various kinds: arithmetical for the simple division of lines, geometrical (based on square roots) for determining areas; stereometrical (based on cube roots) for determining volumes,34 and still other types for determining relations between different sizes of polygons or specific gravities of metals. In the first half of the sixteenth century, these lines were usually discussed in isolation in specialized treatises. In the latter sixteenth century, the growing quest for universal measurement led to these various lines being combined on a single ruler, which could then be used in conjunction with Mordente's compass or other instruments. A second type of compass consisted of two adjustable rods which intersected to form an X shape. Leonardo da Vinci termed this a proportional compass although it was also known as a reduction compass because of its use in reducing circles to different scales. By 1566, the Augsburg instrument maker, Christoph Schissler, had designed a more complex version which served for the division of lines and circles, as well as inscription of regular polygons.35 The various lines of proportion were now being applied directly to the compass. The evidence of Coignet, the town accountant and gauging master of Antwerp, attests that this was not an isolated case; that there was widespread knowledge of a reduction compass with as many as six basic functions.36 A manuscript attributed to Lencker, and bound with a copy of that author's work on perspective, lends weight to this view.37 An elegant version of this compass was developed by Jobst Brgi in the 1590's,38 and became associated with his name following a publication by Hulsius (1604). Perspective continued to play a role in these developments. Besson (1571) outlined an early version of a third type of compass, which consisted of two rulers joined by a pivot in his Description and use of the Euclidean compass including most operations made in geometry, perspective, astronomy and geometry. Danti (1583), in his treatises on perspective described another early version for the inscription of regular polygons and described the systematic transformation of geometrical forms and solids as part of the perspectivists' task (see above p. ). The manuscript on perspective, attributed to Lencker, described a more complex compass with six functions.39 By 1597, Galileo had begun to develop his own version of such a compass which he published in 1606.40 Coignet described a compass with as many as twelve functions41 which may or may not have antedated Galileo's. Of

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interest for our purposes is that Faulhaber (1610) illustrated the Galileo type and Brgi type compass along with a perspectival window on the title page of his New geometrical and perspectival inventions. In France, the proportional compass was described in treatises on perspective by Vaulezard (1630, etc.), Hrigone (1634), Bosse (1648), Huret (1670, etc.), Chales (1674). Elsewhere there were further works by Leupold (1713), Lambert (1752), Taylor (edited by Kirby 1761) and Phlippeaux (1819). All three versions of the proportional compass were logical developments of attempts at universal measuring instruments mentioned earlier, and hence integrated the measurement of lines, areas and volumes. From the battlefield they included a line of metals, which could be used to compute equivalences among metals of different densities. Meanwhile, the early renaissance had seen the development of geometrical play (de ludo geometrico), whereby regular shapes were transformed. Alberti and Piero della Francesca explored these transformations in two dimensional terms. Leonardo made this into a more serious game of three-dimensional transformations involving both diagrams and models. These became part of the perspective tradition and these too were incorporated into the functions of the proportional compasses. These instruments thus served in bridging abstract and concrete problems of mathematics as well as offering solutions to problems in accounting, gauging, gunnery and surveying all of which combined to create a sense of universal mastery, to which scientific theory subsequently laid claim in the seventeenth century. Indeed, we would maintain that this universality of practice made possible the very conception of a universally applicable theory, and formed the basis of the mathematical sciences which emerged in the seventeenth century (cf. p. ). 6. Mechanics and Physics The nature of perspectival representation played its own role in the development of a universal concept in science. In the thirty years between 1485-1515, Leonardo da Vinci discovered that perspective was much more than a means for producing three dimensional effects. It enabled representation of complex organic forms such as the human body in methodical terms: from different viewpoints, as a whole, and in relation to its parts, with a result that the functions thereof could be made manifest. It offered the same possibilities with respect to machines, which led to a catalogue of different mechanical functions. As Reti has shown, Leonardo explored 21 of the 22 elements of machines later listed by Reuleaux: including screws, keys, bearings, pins, axles, couplings, friction wheels, toothed wheels, flywheels, ratchets, brakes, pipes, valves, cams and pulleys.42 These elements provided him with a means of explaining different kinds of motion such as hoisting, dragging and rolling. Not content to stop here, he wished to find the principles underlying these elements, which led him to develop a concept of four basic powers of nature: weight, force, percussion and motion.43 Convinced that

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these same principles underlay human movement, he decided to preface his treatise on human anatomy with a work on mechanics and the elements of mechanics.44 Proportion and perspective combined to make these insights of fundamental importance. Leonardo believed that proportion underlay everything and therefore set out on a quest to measure not only lines, areas and solids but all the forces of nature in these terms: "Proportion is not only found in numbers and measures but also in sound, weights, times and sites and whatever powers there be."45 He became convinced that these powers of nature obeyed a proportion that was pyramidal and perspectival. At the same time, his studies of perspective led him to recognize that only the visual was measureable, which forced him to redefine his goals. Traditionally concepts such as motion had been ambiguous in that they included both mental and physical change: i.e., growth and decay, disturbances of the mind and dreams, as well as motions of balls and projectiles. Leonardo was aware of these, but recognized that they could reasonably be reduced to two kinds: visible and invisible.46 And he decided to limit his studies to visible motion, indeed, to make the visible his standard, which explains why he rejected alchemists, astrologers and others who based their claims on invisible things. The decisions had basic implications for cosmology, which traditionally had emphasized the four elements and used their tactile qualities of hot, cold, dry, wet as basic characteristics of a world defined by substance which, although described by organic metaphors of growth and decay was ultimately static, qualitative and hierarchical. Thinkers such as Aristotle had discussed weight, force, percussion and motion, but their function had remained incidental in a world view dominated by the four elements. Leonardo focussed his interest in the four elements on their visual rather than their tactile qualities. He added tracers to air in order to make visible flow patterns therein. He also added tracers to water and assumed that the flow patterns therein were slow motion versions of what happened in air.47 He studied falling water and found pyramidal, perspectival effects of percussion which paralleled the pyramidal perspectival percussion of sand on a board.48 This attention to visible rather than tactile qualities shifted concern away from their substance as elements, to their function in terms of the four powers. The traditional quest for qualitative descriptions, which were hierarchical was thereby replaced with a search for quantitative dimensions which were a hierarchical. Leonardo insisted that the universe was not at the centre of the universe, but at the centre of its elements. Thereby he was able to argue that the moon was also at the centre of its elements and that this principle, applied to all the planets and stars.49 Conceptually, this breaking of the chain of being was of greatest importance although it would take the writings of his contemporary, Copernicus, and subsequently, Galileo, to explore the larger consequences thereof.

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Leonardo introduced another change that was equally fundamental. For, while he continued to discuss the four elements, he focussed attention in the four powers. Hence, while he continued to pay lip service to organic metaphors, mechanical metaphors now dominated his concerns.50 As Dijksterhuis51 has shown, such metaphors were not new. They had been used since Antiquity. What was different in Leonardo's case was a direct link with the visible world achieved through proportion, perspective and instruments. This served to bridge theory and practice and transformed what had traditionally been loose metaphors into visual hypotheses about the nature of matter and motion which were open to quantatative testing. Which set mechanics, physics, astronomy and cosmology on a new course culminating in early modern science. The scientific revolution is often described as if it occurred primarily in the realm of astronomy. It owed as much to disciplines such as surveying and geography which, combined with perspective, established a vision of universal measurability, which could be applied in the heavens as it is on earth. 7. Centres In an earlier chapter we have already emphasized the role of centres such as Urbino, Nrnberg, Antwerp, Paris and London, in the development of perspective and have mentioned some connections with science. It is useful to return to these centres at this point, to note that they were also centres in the development of instruments, for these combined activities help us to understand why these centres played a special role in the emergence of early modern science. At Urbino, (fig.38) already in the latter fifteenth century, Piero della Francesca, was emphasizing not just an abstract mathematical approach to perspective, but one which could be demonstrated using surveying methods and perspectival windows. He also relied on compasses, as we know from the passage in Pacioli, cited earlier. Francesco di Giorgio Martini also used both surveying instruments and compasses in his perspectival demonstrations. In the sixteenth century these connections became more significant. The same Commandino, who was active in perspectival theory (1558), was URBINO Euclid Apollonius Archimedes Ptolemy Piero della Francesca Diophantus Luca Pacioli Nicolo Tartaglia Francesco Lauranna

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Pappus Francesco di Giorgio Martini Francesco Maurolyco John Dee Christopher Clavius Giovanni Battista Benedetti Guidobaldo del Monte Paolo Gallucci Paul Gregorius Saint Vincent Galileo Galilei Bonaventura Cavalieri Fig. 38. Theoreticians on perspective, mathematicians and instrument makers in Urbino (1450-1600). FLORENCE Oronce Fin Jacques Besson Baldassare Lanci Fabrizio Mordente Michel Coignet Egnazio Danti Agostino Ramelli Ostilio Ricci Francesco Pifferi Lorenzo Sirigatti Galileo Galilei Lodovico Cardi Giorgio Vasari, Jr. Cosimo Bartoli Silvio Belli Daniello Barbaro Latino Orsini Bartolommeo Genga Pierre de la Rame Giorgio Vasari Guldin Federico Comandino

Fig. 39. Links between Florentine theoreticians of perspective and makers of instruments for universal measurement leading to the proportional compass and sector (1550-1610).

NRNBERG Leonardo da Vinci

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Bolognese or Venetian Source Jean Plerin Gregor Reisch Joachim Fortius

Albrecht Drer Hans Beham Erhard Schn Hieronymus Rodler

Augustin Hirschvogel Heinrich Lautensack

John Dee

Frederic Risner Pierre de la Rame Wenzel Jamnitzer Hans Lencker

Hans Haiden Michael Maestlin Paul Pfintzing Jobst Tycho Brahe Galileo Galilei [Michel Coignet] Levinus Hulsius Brgi

Benjamin Bramer Fig. 40. Theoreticians in N rnberg (1500-1625).

Johann Faulhaber

also involved in the development of a new instrument, which was a forerunner of the Galilean sector, while at the same time being at the centre of editing texts basic for the mathematical foundations of science.52 Commandino's student, Guidobaldo del Monte, was deeply involved with perspective, instruments and science. So too was his student, Galileo, and his contemporary, Giovanni Battista Benedetti. There links are even more striking in the Florentine circles (fig.39), which drew their inspiration partly from Parisian developments by Oronce Fin, Jacques Besson and Pierre de la Rame. Cosimo Bartoli (1564) used their work as a

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starting point for his book on universal measurement, which influenced Silvio Belli (1565). Meanwhile, Baldassare Lanci, an engineer, important for his perspectival decorations for the theatre, also devised his own instruments intended to serve both for surveying and perspective. Daniele Barbaro, active also in Venice, drew directly on the work of these three contemporaries, was in contact with Fabrizio Mordente concerning new universal instruments,53 and reported on the use of instruments in his own treatise on perspective (1568). Latino Orsini, inventor of another universal surveying device, NRNBERG, ANTWERP, PARIS, LONDON Georg Peurbach Johannes Mller (Regiomontanus) Martin Behaim

Martin Waldseemller

Peter Apian

Sebastian Mnster

Gemma Frisius John Dee Mercator Leonard Digges Walter Arsenius Abraham Ortelius Thomas Hood Michel Coignet Pierre de la Rame Jodocus I Hondius Risner Jodocus II Hondius Abel Foullon Fig. 41. Links between instrument makers, cartographers and geographers and authors on perspective (1450-1600). the latin staff (radio latino), cited the influence of Barbaro and, in turn, influenced Egnatio Danti, important not only for his treatise on perspective (1583), but also for his scientific instruments including a large astrolabe (now in the Museum for the History of Science at Florence) and the sundial on Santa Maria Novella in the same city. Danti was also important for Ostilio Ricci,54 author of treatises on practical geometry and surveying, and teacher of Galileo. Among the most interesting figures in this context was Giorgio Vasari Jr., nephew of the famous author of Lives of the Artists, who wrote a manuscript recording all the scientific Frederic Oronce Fin

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surveying instruments in the collection of the Grand Duke of Tuscany55 and was also author of a treatise on perspective, upon which Sirigatti based his work, ideas of which were taken up a turn by Cigoli, the author on perspective who was friends with Galileo. For artists, practitioners, and scientists in Nrnberg, instruments were at least as important as we have shown earlier (see above p. and fig.40). Hence, there were close links between authors of treatises on perspective, those connected with new instruments and those at the frontiers of science. A list of titles in a Treatise of mechanical instruments by Levinus Hulsius (fig. 42, 1603-1605) is particularly interesting in this regard. Hulsius mentions Danti, Guidobaldo del Monte and Simon Stevin, each of whom was active on all three fronts. Among the German names we find individuals important for the rise of science such as Peurbach, Apian, Ursus56 and Brahe, also notable for the development of scientific instruments, alongside authors on perspective such as Drer, Rodler, Lautensack, Jamnitzer, Lencker, Specklin and Pfintzing. Jamnitzer, besides his work on perspective, was responsible for new instruments for gauging and surveying, and is recorded as having designed a whole chest of scientific instruments.57 In this context, it is instructive to recall that a chief incentive for Regiomontanus' move to Nrnberg in the 1470's was precisely because this city was the Netherlands France Italy Germany

Johannes Werner

1514 Georg

Peurbach

1516

Jakob Kbel 1522 Albrecht Drer 1525 Peter Apian 1533 Hieronymus Rodler 1546 Sebastian Mnster 1551 Johann Schner 1551 Jacques Bassentin 1555 Jacques Androuet du Cerceau 1559 Abel Foullon 1564 Heinrich Lautensack 1565 Wenzel Jamnitzer 1568 Silvio Belli 1570 Oronce Fin 1570 Hans Lencker 1571 Egnazio Danti 1579 Elie Vinet 1574 Michel Coignet 1581 Guidobaldo del Monte 1581 Agostino Ramelli 1580 Latino Orsini 1583 Zacharias Lochner 1583

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Girolamo Cataneo 1584 Simon Stevin 1586 Cosimo Bartoli 1589 Daniel Specklin 1589 Giovanni Paolo Gallucci 1592 Andreas Helmreich 1591 Gabriel Busca 1594 Errard de Bar le Duc 1594 Iodocus Hondius 1597 Philippe Danfrie 1597 Nicolaus Ursus 1597 Adrianus Romanus 1597 Henry de Suberville 1598 Tycho Brahe 1598 Paul Pfintzing 1598 Johan Sems/Jan Dou 1600 Fabrizio Padoani 1601 Andrea Palladio 1601 Jacques Perret 1601

Levinus Hulsius Fig.42. List of titles cited by Levinus Hulsius in his Treatise of Mechanical Instruments (1603-1605). The heading Netherlands includes Flanders, and Germany includes Prague.

leading European centre for the construction of scientific instruments. In the generations that followed, scientific instruments served to secure the cumulative dimensions of scientific knowledge. Regiomontanus' work on science and instruments had a direct impact on Waldseemller, famous in cartography, Martin Behaim, renowned for producing one of the first globes, Sebastian Mnster, and Peter Apian, whose compendium of surveying instruments and fascination with astronomical instruments was a direct inspiration for his Antwerp collaborator, Gemma Frisius, who proved a seminal figure on at least three fronts: at home, through his students, Mercator and Arsenius, which led to the workshops of the Coignet, Ortelius and Hondius families; secondly in England, via John Dee, Digges, father and son and Thomas Hood, and thirdly in France, through Oronce Fin, Pierre de la Rame and Abel Foullon, individuals who, as we have noted already, again had their impact on circles in Nrnberg and Florence. The sixteenth century thus saw the emergence of networks between Florence, Nrnberg, Antwerp, London and Paris (fig.41). These were due as much to the development of standards in instrument making which transcended local workshops, as to the spread of printing. Politics played its inevitable role. When Rudolph II became the Holy Roman Emperor, Prague functioned as a catalyst in this process. Hence Fabrizio Mordente, an Italian active in Venice, published in Antwerp his treatise on a universal compass (1584), which he dedicated to the experor at Prague. To Prague came famous instrument makers such as Schissler, the scientist Kepler, and the astronomer Brahe. Prague drew on the developments

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at Kassel, where the Landgrave of Hesse established Europe's first astronomical observatory, where Brahe's assistant Brgi, developed instruments for perspective, surveying, geography and astronomy, activities which were taken up by Hulsius (1603-1605), Faulhaber (1610) and pursued by Brgi's brother in law, Bramer (1617, 1730). Albrecht (1673) developed this theme describing an instrument with which "a building, landscape on some other object standing before the eyes can be taken perspectivally and drawn in isolation," noting that the same instrument could be used to "diminish or increase all geometrical and perspectival figures in any size you wish as long as you change the foreshortened scale as desired."58 One of the subtle consequences of these developments was that geography and astronomy became visual problems in a way that they had never been in Antiquity. Ptolemy, for instance, in producing his map of the world relied on reports of longitude and latitude for a number of cities. But these were based on shadow projections, which left geography a branch of astronomy and ultimately the determining factor was a conceptual grid, which remained unrelated to the visual evidence of landscapes. The twin developments of surveying and perspective in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries changed this by making it clear that recording a building, town, landscape, region, province or country were all extensions of a single principle involving changes in scale. What might be termed an inductive approach to map making thus emerged, which began with local sites and led to more generalized patterns with the result that geography now had its starting point in the visual evidence of surveying and perspective. In this context Egnazio Danti's position as cosmographer to the Medici Dukes (pl. 24.5) or the perspectival author, Cristoforo Sorte's, role as a cartographer acquire greater significance. The incentive to look more closely at the heavens arose from discrepancies between Ptolemy's claims, which needed updating, and the actual evidence. It is noteworthy that the individuals concerned with this task of reconciliation, Peurbach, Regiomontanus, Werner, Apian, Copernicus, Brgi, Brahe and Kepler, were concerned with both terrestrial and celestial instruments. If a junction between terrestrial and celestial measurement had been implicit ever since Ptolemy wrote his Geography and Almagest as two facets of a single scheme, it now became explicit, partly through the use of common instruments, and partly from the recognition that the same perspectival principles applied to map and planisphere projection. As the sixteenth century progressed, the tandem production of terrestrial and celestial globes became common practice. Cosmological considerations provided another incentive to consider the heavens as a visual problem. Leonardo's speculations about the nature of the moon, mentioned earlier, prompted him to "make glasses to see the moon large"59 and we have several hints concerning his attempts.60 We know, moreover, that his chief writings on vision were intended to serve as an introduction to his great work on cosmology and astronomy.

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Whether Leonardo's early efforts in the direction of a telescope directly influenced the subsequent attempts of Fracastoro and Digges remains uncertain.61 But such evidence confirms that the stimulus for Galileo's breakthrough in 1609 was at least a century in the making. And underlying this breakthrough was a shift from a deductive to an inductive approach to astronomy. When Galileo published his Assayer ( 16**), he included an engraved portrait flanked by his two chief instruments the sector and the telescope. These are usually discussed in isolation as if they represented unrelated aspects of his work. We would argue otherwise and claim that their appearance together confirmed how surveying, geography and astronomy had emerged as elements in a single challenge of mapping the universe, a challenge to which perspective offered a key. We have returned to the problem of scale considered earlier in chapter two. There we were concerned with its importance in the so-called conquest of reality, in leading artists to recognize that the representation of interiors, exteriors, birds' eye views, landscapes, maps of the earth and the heavens (cf. figs. 20-27) were all the same problem in different scales. Here we are concerned with its role in the emergence of early modern science, and would suggest that scale might be seen as the problem of proportion with a visual dimension added through perspective and instruments. We would go further to suggest that a theory of perspective, and practice of instruments, combined in introducing a visual approach to surveying, geography and astronomy which led inevitably to a visual standard of truth. Traditionally the shift from a deductive to an inductive method, and the shift from a mental to an experimental approach have been described as abstract philosophical problems. If we are right there were more concrete reasons for these shifts, which depended on a more systematic, quantitative approach to concepts of scale, brought into focus through perspective and instruments; concrete reasons which also throw light on the shift from substance to function which Cassirer sought to explain abstractly.62 For scale is seeing relations, functions. It would be wrong to imagine, however, that the problem of scale was one of these insights that came suddenly only then to be taken for granted. Leonardo could be said to have introduced the problem and Galileo to have begun its serious study. But the concept was so seminal that in a sense the whole of western science since the sixteenth century could be seen as a continuing exploration of its dimensions. The seventeenth century explored how one could increase the scales of visible things in both the macrocosm and the microcosm through telescopes and microscopes. The eighteenth and the nineteenth centuries extended these principles. 8. Modern Developments A whole as yet unwritten chapter would, for example, need to be written concerning the implications of photographic perspective on concepts of scale. For

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what are lenses but systematic tools for changing scale? Such a chapter would need include the role of photography in surveying and cartography as developed say, by Deville (1895), and relate how World War I, which saw the first use of cameras in airplanes, brought new questions of relating perspectival photographs to scale maps on which accurate distances could be measured. Theoretically, these problems had been broached by Brook Taylor (1715). Even so J. W. Gordon's solution in Generalized linear perspective (1922) marked a breakthrough in using perspective to simulate nature, and led to a new science of photogrammetry. This made it possible to map unexplored country, lay out highways, locate bridges, even provide contour surveys without the expenses of traditional surveying. Deneux (1930) and Hildenbrandt (1759) introduced new photographic methods , since superceded anew with the advent of satellites. Twentieth century architects have played a significant role in these continuing explorations of scale. For example, Holmes (1937) showed that one could use a photograph of a building, draw in its perspectival lines, and work backwards to establish the measured ground plan of the original. These principles have proved very important in the area of town planning. Danielowski (1968), for instance, used a photograph of a street where a building had been torn down, drew in perspectival lines and added a drawing of a proposed new building to show how it would fit into the existing context. Mller (1979) invented an "endoscope", which permitted one to photograph an architect's model from a viewpoint simulating a model-pedestrian. In France, the Ministry of the environment (1980) developed similar methods, using photo montage to demonstrate effects of a proposed housing estate on a landscape. Jantzen (1963), developed a complex interplay between architectural plans, models, photographs and perspectival views, which permit one to simulate effects of replacing buildings in any given context. Hiss (1985) explicitly related scales in photographic lenses with different scales in architecture. Meanwhile these questions of relating different scales have increasingly become the domain of computers. In the early 1970's the Sutherland company, then at the frontiers of computer graphics, simulated, in three point perspective, architect's conceptions of buildings in various scales. A Cornell project led by Greenberg extended this principle to simulation of a whole context of buildings, within which a proposed new building could be moved at will.63 It also simulated different viewpoints of an imaginary viewer within a planned context. Since then there has been much attention to creating simulations at different levels of abstraction and relating them to one another. The French Ministry of the environment, which also worked with photo montages, created elaborate wire line simulations of sites which could be viewed from various prints (1980). Reynolds (1987), demonstrated how one could relate wire line, hidden line and hidden surface versions of a same building. This method of providing perspectival views of different layers of a proposed building, for which models and photographs exist, has also been used in designing the new Museum of Man in

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Ottawa.64 A new method called radiosity developed at Cornell, enables one to take a room with complex spatial elements and to recreate it from different viewpoints under various lighting conditions.65 The latest methods of computer aided design (CAD), explore combinations of real buildings and imaginary conceptions of possible buildings. In future this could be given an historical dimension such that computerized repertoires of ruins and monuments of the past could inspire new representations and constructions, a systematic approach as it were to the tendencies of post-modernism. A full survey of twentieth century innovations with respect to perspective and instruments would readily be a book in itself. Morgan (1950) was still able to limit his list to nine significant methods: office, measuring points, direct projection, Reile, perspectigraph, charts, calibron machine and photography.66 Since then extraordinary developments in satellite photography, lasers and holography have opened further horizons, marking new steps in systematic treatment of scale and the automation of perspectival principles. Indeed these momentous developments with cameras and computers may help explain renewed interest in perspectival effects and the history thereof. And yet science is but one part of the story. As will be seen in the chapters that follow, the impact of perspective on art, the environment and imagination has been equally profound.

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6. ART AND REPRESENTATION 1. Introduction 2. Objects 3. Functions 6. Conclusions. 4. Narrative 5. Contexts

1. Introduction Perspective is inevitably associated with Renaissance painting: with Masaccio's Trinity, Leonardo's Last Supper and Raphael's School of Athens. However, if we are to assess the implications of perspective for representation and art, it is necessary, at the outset to emphasize how it affected both a variety of media, notably, marquetry, fresco, sculpture, as well as painting and a variety of objects including doors, altars, furniture, walls, ceilings as well as painted panels. It will be useful also to explore connections between perspective and different goals or functions of art to show that various goals essentially precluded the possibility of perspective and thereby to suggest new reasons why perspective occurred so late in the history of representation and specifically in a European context. We shall claim that there were special links between perspective, literacy and the narrative function in particular; that this interplay between perspective and narrative was by no means straightforward; that it had consequences which inevitably undermined a strict narrative sequence, leading to new contexts of art which we now associate with high renaissance, mannerism and baroque art. Ultimately perspective had artistic consequences which went far beyond this, transforming the architecture of buildings, landscape gardens and indeed the whole environment; changing the meaning of metaphor and illusion in ways that provoked new avenues of artistic freedom and creativity. These will be the concerns of the final two chapters. Here we shall limit ourselves to the consequences of perspective on representation and art in a stricter sense. 2. Objects In an earlier chapter we have already noted that the development of perspective in painting was part of a larger movement in European culture which affected space in architecture (pl. 4.1-3) and a whole variety of media, including bronze (pl. 4.4), manuscript decoration (pl. 4.5), marble (pl. 5.2), stone (pl. 5.7), drawing (pl. 6.1-2, 4) as well on painting. Wood was another medium. Indeed, the art of marquetry or intarsia was among the most important early contexts for perspective. Vasari reported that "the method of joining small pieces of coloured wood together to make perspectives"1 was introduced in the time of Brunelleschi and Uccello. In his life of Paolo Uccello, Vasari described at further length: When Paolo showed his intimate friend, Donatello the sculptor, mazzocchi with projecting points and bosses, represented in perspective from different points of view, spheres with seventy-two facettes like diamonds and on

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each facette shavings twisted round sticks with other oddities upon which he wasted his time,the sculptor would say: "Ah, Paolo, this perspective of yours leads you to abandon the certain for the uncertain, such things are only useful for marquetry, in which chips and oddments, both round and square and other like things, are necessary.2 Marquetry soon became much more than a play of chips and oddments in creating regular and irregular solids. In rare cases, such as Urbino (pl. 74.1) or Gubbio marquetry served as an elaborate wall decoration, simulating furniture, painted emblems, instruments, windows and even squirrels. In Italy marquetry became particularly popular in the choir stalls of churches such as Todi (pl. 74.2), Verona, Bergamo, where the representation of man-made objects, books, chalices, instruments (pl. 75.3-4) frequently alternated with man made scenes, usually idealized views of cities. The practice also spread to furniture, which gained importance in Germany and the Netherlands. In Augsburg, Lorenz Stoer (1567), produced a book of perspectival examples specifically for craftsmen in wood (pl. 75.1-2), involving various semi-regular solids and ruins. Idealized ruins became a significant theme in its own right (pl. 75.4). In his Lives of the Artists, Vasari discussed the inlaid chests of Giuliano da Maiano in the sacristy of S. Maria del Fiore and the marquetry portraits of Dante and Petrarch by Benedetto da Maiano in the Palazzo Vecchio. He also mentioned the marquetry of Giusto and Minore, Guido del Servellino, Domenico di Mariotto, Battista del Cervelliera, Giovanni da Verona, Baccio D'Agnolo, Francesca de Salviati and Fra Damiano.3 Even this was but a small sample of activity in the field. The chronicler, Benedetto Dei, listed 84 workshops around 1470 devoted to marquetry in Florence alone.4 Bronze was another medium. In the case of the doors of the Baptistery in Florence, Vasari noted how Ghiberti "introduced a building in perspective with great effect"5 (pl. 4.4). In the case of Donatello's bronze reliefs on the high altar of San Petronio in Padua, Vasari recorded that they were: executed with such judgment that masters of the art have been struct dumb with admiration in beholding them when they have considered their beautiful and varied composition comprising such a number of remarkable figures placed in diminishing perspectives.6 Modern tourists tend to be slightly more blas. Marble was yet another medium. Donatello's famous sculptured relief of Saint George and the Dragon on the facade of Or San Michele in Florence at once comes to mind. Indeed perspectival images were used in different media for almost every object. Uccello, according to Vasari, even made "a number of small pictures in perspective for the sides of couches, beds and other things"7 in many houses in Florence.

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Certain objects, particularly altars, played a special role in the development of perspectival representation. In the Italian tradition, altars were typically dominated by a central saint, often the Virgin Mary seated on a throne. By the late thirteenth century artists became concerned with rendering these thrones spatially. In the altars of Cimabue, Duccio and Giotto a clear progression can be traced which led, via Daddi, Simone Martini and Fra Angelico to famous examples such as Domenico Veneziano's Saint Lucy Altar or Mantegna's Saint Zeno Altar. The throne, in turn, became an excuse for spatial treatment of an entire context as seen in Piero della Francesca's Brera Altar (pl. 7.1) and altars by Bellini, Cima da Conegliano, Cosme Tura and a host of others. As in the case of niches, vaults and windows mentioned in our opening chapter (p. ), thrones were another of those basic forms which became part of a cumulative heritage of spatial ingredients. Meanwhile the Franciscan movement had focussed new attention or episodes in the lives of Christ and the Saints which had various consequences for the history of altarpieces. In rare cases, such as Duccio's Maest (pl. 2.1), such episodes dominated the back of an altar. In the case of the Master of Saint Cecilia, six scenes from the life of the saint flanked a central panel with an enthroned Madonna. As the fourteenth century progressed another alternative became standard, namely, to continue having a dominant central figure flanked by two, four or more saints, beneath which were small predellas or panels with scenes from the life of Christ or a saint. These panels are of particular interest for our purposes for they contain important cases of perspectival space. An early example was Simone Martini's Saint Louis of Toulouse (Naples, Museo di Capodimonte, c.1317), which includes five scenes from his life in these panels below the main figure. A little over a century later there was Gentile da Fabriano's Altar of the Adoration of the Magi (now Florence, Uffizi, 1423 with a predella now in Paris, Louvre) and his Quaratesi polyptych (now Florence, Uffizi with its predellas in the Vatican and Washington, National Gallery). More dramatic were the predellas beneath Fra Angelico's Louvre Altar (14341435), Carlo Crivelli's Polyptych of Massa Fermana (1468), or the altar of Matteo di Giovanni (San Sepolcro) which originally had Piero della Francesca's Baptism (now London, National Gallery) as its central panel. Piero's own Polyptych of Saint Anthony (Perugia, Galleria Nazionale dell 'Umbria, 1460) transformed this tradition with three spatial scenes beneath and a subsequent perspectival Annunciation (1470) above the three main panels. In terms of perspectival effects, Renaissance altars are of special interest because they highlight differences between approaches to space South and North of the Alps. While the Italians were intent on representing space, artists in the North were equally concerned with reconstructing space. In some cases, such as the Mengelberg Altar in the cathedral at Cologne, this amounted to a three dimensional sculpture of a scene. More often an extraordinarily detailed wooden carving was involved, as in Tilman Riemenschneider's Altars, such as that in the Hergottskirche at Creglingen (c. 1505-1510), the Agilophas Altar in the cathedral

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at Cologne (c. 1520), Hans Bruggeman's Bordesholmer Altar in the cathedral at Schleswig (1621), or the magnificent altars in Lbeck and Stockholm. Art historians have frequently characterized the represented space of Italian altars as Renaissance, while describing the constructed space of Northern altars as Gothic, i.e., primitive and behind the times compared to Italy. To insist on the contrast would lead us to overlook cases such as Michael Pacher, who was involved in both sculptured and painted altarpieces and to ignore a whole series of altars which combined sculpted and painted elements such as the Deocarus (14361437) and Saint Roch (c. 1490) altars, both in St. Lorenz in Nrnberg. There is a further reason for seeing the fascination with reconstructed and represented space as two facets of a single development, for it offers insight into a phenomenon connected with Flemish painting, namely, the tendency to represent figures in paint as if they had been reconstructed in sculpture, both with respect to isolated individuals (e.g. pl. 76.1-3) and series of figures (e.g. pl. 8.1, 3-4). Had there not been such sculptural masterpieces as precedents, the perspectival breakthroughs in painting would have been virtually impossible. In this context the whole paragone debate, which opposed the merits of painting and sculpture, obscured an historical interplay which had been essential for the development of painting. There are striking parallels in the development of choirs South and North of the alps, and it may well be that a similar revision of thought is necessary in this case. Perhaps we need to see the intarsia representations of Dante and Petrarch by Giovanni and Giuliano da Maiano in the Palazzo Vecchio, which Vasari attributed to Botticelli, as closely related to the sculptured busts found in cathedrals such as Ulm and Vienna. Perhaps Italian marquetry and Northern misericords should again be seen as two facets of a single fascination with three dimensional space. If so, we might be closer to understanding why Ghiberti, Donatello, and indeed so many of the early perspectivists were both sculptors and artists. Sculpture provided the reconstructions or models which made feasible their representation in space. The full implications of these suggestions are more dramatic than may be immediately apparent. We need to return to the claim made at the beginning of our essay, where we drew attention to parallels between developments in Romanesque constructed, architectural space and reconstructed space (pl. 4.1-2) which the Gothic period developed (pl. 4.3) in cases such as the West facade of Notre Dame in Paris, and which the Renaissance subsequently represented (pl. 4.4). If we look more closely at the portals of Notre Dame we see that this constructed spaced is peopled with realistic three-dimensional sculptures which,-- we are tempted to say who--, are the direct ancestors of the sculpted portrait busts in the choirs of Ulm and Vienna, as they are of the figures on the facade of Or San Michele: Nanni di Banco's Martyrs, Ghiberti's St. John the Baptist and Donatello's St. George. In short, attention to individual, sculptural realism, which Auerbach

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vividly characterized as creatural realism,8 went hand in hand with exploration of constructed, reconstructed and ultimately represented space. To state the problem in these terms may seem altogether obvious. Yet to accept the proposition is to recognize the constructions and reconstructions of Northern Gothic architecture and sculpture as essential ingredients for the representations which the so-called Italian Renaissance made famous. From this many things follow. Renaissance perspective would have been unthinkable without Gothic art. The Gothic North was not behind Italy: it was exploring other dimensions of the same spatial problems of creatural realism. Which is why perspective spread so quickly to the North. As we have already mentioned, Van Eyck, Bellini and Alberti were contemporaries, as were Filarete, Fouquet and Memling. So too were Piero della Francesca and Dirk Bouts. Perspective was a European phenomenon, and in this context it is neither mysterious or paradoxical that it very quickly became as much, and soon, primarily a Northern affair. Of course, some will argue that all such comparisons between North and South are very misleading: that there is a world of difference between Van Eyck's paintings where lines converge towards a central area and the mathematical precision of a vanishing point as specified by the legitimate construction. Yes, the point is well taken if early Northern practice is compared with early Italian theory. But the opposition disappears if both regions are compared in terms of practice. For instance, closer inspection of inlaid marquetry panels such as those at San Sepolcro connected with the school of Piero della Francesca, reveals that their perspectival constructions are imprecise from a strictly technical standpoint. Very often the perspectival lines were drawn by hand rather than constructed by ruler. This happened equally in other media. The foreshortened squares in the floor of Raphael's School of Athens (cf. pl. 11.5) were hand drawn, and from a strictly geometrical point of view were quite incorrect. The floor patterns further back were grossly distorted. Such irregularities or so called errors were not simply due to difficulties inherent in the medium. They were so universal that perspectivally perfect works of art were virtually non-existent in the Renaissance. Artists ignored technical perspective in its narrow sense because they obviously soon discovered that they could achieve extraordinary spatial effects such as we still experience in seeing the School of Athens (pl. 11.5), even if the lines were slightly crooked and only approximately right. Which helps explain why Drer, who went to such trouble to learn perspective, only used it technically in two or three of his hundreds of works.9 And this could explain why Van Eyck never even bothered to try. What is important for our purposes is the slightly paradoxical fact that, while perspective in its narrow technical sense was virtually ignored by Renaissance artists,--Vasari even complains that Uccello was wasting his time in trying to get it right,10--perspectival effects nonetheless had a seminal influence on representation of the time.

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Thus far we have outlined these effects on a whole range of media including marquetry, fresco, bronze marble and painting, as well as noting its significance in the case of particular objects such as altars. The most remarkable examples of Renaissance perspective have yet to be considered, namely, those on the walls of churches. They were usually frescoes. Some dealt with a symbolic theme in isolation as in the case of Masaccio's Trinity (Florence, Santa Maria Novella, c. 1427-1428). Some were portraits of famous individuals, such as Uccello's Sir John Hawkwood (1436) or Castagno's Niccolo' da Tolentino (1456) both in the Cathedral at Florence. Some presented events, as a single scene as did Uccello in his Battle of San Romano (London, National Gallery, c. 1445), although in this case he made two other versions (Paris, Louvre and Florence, Uffizi). Yet, in a sense, all of these were exceptions for, as in the case of altars, the great examples of perspectival wall frescoes involved story telling and cycles of images and once again, the roots of this practice lay firmly in the mediaeval tradition. To be sure, as Gombrich has shown,11 mural painting had its origins in early Antiquity and elements thereof evolved in an almost unbroken tradition. Of particular interest for our purposes, however, are developments of narrative sequences evident as early as the ninth century in the Reichenau, and the ceiling at Hildesheim in the eleventh which led, by the late twelfth century to that remarkable seequence of 167 scenes from the Old and New Testaments in the cathedral at Monreale. It is this tradition which leads via Giotto in Assisi, Padua and Florence to the great perspectival cycles of the Renaissance: Masaccio in the Brancacci Chapel (Florence, Santa Croce); Mantegna in the Ovetari Chapel (Padua, Eremitani Church, 1454-1457); Piero della Francesca in San Francesco in Arezzo (c. 14521457); Ghirlandaio in the Sassetti Chapel (Santa Trinita, 1483-1486) and the Capella Magiore of Santa Maria Novella (1485-1490) and, of course, Raphael in the Stanze of the Vatican (c. 1509-1516). We shall wish to examine more closely the connections with narrative which generated these prime examples of Renaissance perspective, but by way of context a detour is necessary. 3. Functions One of the enduring contributions of Sir Ernst Gombrich has been to demonstrate that the history of art cannot be seen as a single, simple line of development and must be studied as a series of parallel and even conflicting goals: that the magical function of so called primitive art, must be separated from that of ornament, and mimesis. If this approach is taken in combination with the idea of different levels of literacy it offers further distinctions between these goals of representation which, we shall suggest, are useful in understanding why perspective occurred when and where it did. Indeed of the six basic functions to be considered (connecting, ordering, imitating, matching, mixing, exploring) we shall show how three precluded, one discouraged and two functions encouraged the use of perspective, and then only under special circumstances.

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Connecting So called primitive art12 had a function of connecting a totem in a community with a magical or sacred world beyond it. This connecting function meant that a totem actually became a given deity rather than being a simple representative thereof. A sculpture suited this function much better than a painted representation. Because it served as a bridge between the everyday world of the tribe and a magical world beyond, it had to be sufficiently life-like to be recognizable by its viewers: i.e. anthropomorphism was an inherent part of the system. Yet a fully realistic statue would have linked it too firmly to the present world and thrown into jeopardy its connecting function with a world beyond: i.e. a restricted anthropomorphism was also built into the system. In such a context perspectival realism would have been more of a threat than a goal. Since these tribal communities were pre-literate there were no canonical texts concerning the shape and meaning of the statue. And in the absence of these sacred texts to establish a sense of community, the sacred statues acquired protocanonical functions themselves and forged this sense of community directly. Hence any serious deviation in outward appearance was a threat to its connecting function because it introduced the risk that a specific god would not even be recognized. Since polytheism was the rule in pre-literate societies these principles usually extended to a number of gods. As the number of gods increased, the powers which could be attributed to a given god decreased. Such considerations meant that there were natural controls to keep in check an indefinite extension of these sacred images. In this context the pantheon of images which would have been possible through perspective was necessarily a threat to be avoided rather than a goal to be sought. The connecting function precluded an interest in this-worldly, perspectival space, focussing attention instead on a totem which would ensure contact with a world beyond. Ordering A second goal which emerged among primitive tribes involved ordering, producing patterns and ornament beginning with simple regular lines and evolving to ever more complex geometrical shapes. In pre-literate societies these patterns were usually restricted in number and had sacred connotations such that they shared partly in the connecting functions of totems. In some cases, these patterns were applied directly to the totems, such that, both the connecting and ordering functions were contained. A gradual distinction between the two functions was inevitable, however. For whereas the connecting function effectively depended on a pre-literate society, the ordering function did not. The advent of literacy simply extended its repertoire as Sir Ernst Gombrich has so eloquently shown in a Sense of Order.13

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Some patterns could even be given spatial characteristics. The menander fret could, for instance, be given a three dimensional effect through a clever use of light and shade. Yet although some sense of depth was possible, systematic treatment of space was not. Hence ordering was another goal which discouraged perspective in its full sense. Imitating The primitive mind which saw images as connecting with a magical world beyond, believed in an identity of image and god. A next stage in civilization denied this identity and recognized that the two were separate: that the image was at best an imitation or representation of the god involved. If this distinction between the two mentalities was logically simple, psychologically the distance between them was enormous and occurred gradually during the period between c. 4000 and c. 500 BC. The shift from connecting to imitating was closely linked with the emergence of literacy in the cultures of Akkad, Babylon and Egypt. Thus far the connecting function had been limited to sacred images. Now it spread to sacred texts and those who controlled them. In Egypt, for instance, the Sacred Book of the Dead became a repository of these magical connections as did the pharaoh. This posed new problems for the production of images. On the one hand, if an image of the pharaoh was to function as a (living) image rather than a representation, it had to become fully realistic and lifelike. On the other hand, this very realism undermined the statue's connecting function, linking it with an other worldly realm. Instead of being recognized as an immortal figure, it now risked being seen as representing an all too mortal figure. One protection against this was to control viewing conditions: placing the statue in a dark place, laden with other-worldly atmosphere under ambigous conditions. Which is precisely what the Egyptians did. The statue in the doorway of the Mastaba of Mereruka at Saqqara comes to mind.14 These principles, designed for a supposedly immortal pharaoh, were inevitably extended to others in his midst. By c. 2580 B.C. these included members of the royal household in the form of reserve heads at Giza (now Cairo, Egyptian Museum). By c. 2400 B.C., they included mortals, such as seated scribe from Saqqara (Paris, Louvre). As this repertoire of mortal images increased, the need to recognize them a representations rather than (living) images became more acute. The crisis or so called revolution came in Greece. In Sir Ernst Gombrich's account: when classical sculptors and painters discovered the character of Greek narration they set up a chain reaction which transformed the methods of representing the human body--and indeed more than that.... Narrative art is bound to lead to space and the exploration of visual effects.

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For this reason he believes that it was: surely no accident that the tricks of illusimistic art, perspective and modelling in light and shade, were connected in classical antiquity with the design of theatrical scenery. It is here, in the context of plays, based on the ancient mythical tales, that the re-enactment of events according to the poet's vision comes to its climax and is increasingly assisted by the illusions of art.15 According to this account, an interplay between literature and art sparked the Greek revolution in art, introducing a form of imitation which amounted to matching objects in the visual world, i.e. perspectival representation. Thereafter the Renaissance was little more than "the return to the classical ideal of the convincing image."16 As will be clear from our opening chapter, in our view the situation was more complex. Mimesis or imitation meant at least five different things. We shall examine each in turn to show that none of them was synonymous with matching in the perspectival sense. A first meaning involved imitation of verbal narrative. If we accept Gombrich's fundamental insight that narrative texts inspired much of Greek art, we must also accept the consequences. Representations of verbal descriptions of visual objects were not direct records of the visual world. They were imitations, via a verbal filter, of Greek literature which, as Auerbach has shown, had no clear sense of reality when compared to the Judaeo-Christian tradition. The resulting art may have had visual effects or the appearance thereof, yet it remained non-visual in terms of its sources. It never aimed at recording visual reality directly and as such was never concerned with perspective. A second meaning involved imitation of ideal concepts of objects and persons. There is a well known story of the Greek sculptor commissioned to do a statue of Venus who studied different virgins and the combined their features in producing his ideal statue. Here again there was no interest in recording an individual visual record. This was imitation via the filter of a mental visual image based on a universal concept of Venus which, it will be noted, amounted to much the same thing as a verbal filter. Both mental visual and verbal filters were universal and ultimately opposed to the individuality of a perspectival record. Hence this second kind of imitation was equally non visual. A third meaning entailed imitation of objects in isolation. The same principles which had led in Egypt to detailed images of the pharaoh and isolated members of his court were extended in the second millenium B.C. to isolated animals and birds such that we find in an otherwise primitive scene, a lion or some geese of striking realism.17 This attempt to copy simple objects precisely continued in Greece but usually in terms of statues rather than paintings. It was presumably to this end that Polycleitus developed his famous canon, a statue which served as a model for

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others. Pliny also recounts the story of illusionistic grapes by Zeuxis which fooled the birds and the illusory curtain by his competitor, Parrhasius, which in turn fooled Zeuxis.18 These again involved isolated objects rather than contexts, and not unlike similar effects in ornament, depended on some simple tricks of light and shade rather than principles of perspective in order to achieve their results. More significantly we are told that this type of realism represented an early stage: that artists first represented objects as they were and later as they appeared.19 Had the Greeks discovered perspective it would have been in the later period. But as will be shown, this period also had goals inimical to perspective. A fourth meaning involved imitation of objects using optical adjustments. This was a possibility, against which Plato complained in his Sophist (see above pp. ** ). It entailed adjusting the original proportions of statues in order that they appear correct. Based on a theory of visual angles, this method imposed on an object a mental concept of how it ought to appear. For it sought to integrate effects of size and distance in the object and keep the image constant. This was a goal fundamentally different from Renaissance perspective, which began with the premise that objects remained constant and sought to record visually effects of size and distance on images. For this reason the visual angles method was paradoxically non-visual in the Renaissance sense of the image. It did not visually record, but rather it physically adjusted objects, so that no change in the visual appearances would be noticeable. As we have suggested, (pp. ) the same mentality applied in astronomy. Saving the appearances was more important than the actual causes governing them. Subjective appearances dominated over objective. An important shift had begun. The primitive mind had projected magical qualities onto its images. The semi-civilized mind projected its theory of appearances onto images while the civilized mind has attempted20 to produce images devoid of these psychological projections. And the domain of study shifted accordingly from an unseen, magical world beyond to a conceptual world of appearances and finally to a perceptual, visual world of objects. As long as psychological projection onto images continued, study of their perspectival aspects could not yet begin in earnest. A fifth meaning of imitation involved illusionistic effects of stage scenery using optical adjustments methods which were also affected by this problem of psychological projection of a theory of appearances onto objects. But here there was also a deeper problem on which we touched in our analysis of the famous Vitruvian passage at the beginning of our essay (pp.** ). The stage settings were illusionistic in a special sense. They involved hypothetical buildings which never have existed in the physical world. Nor could the space they appeared to represent. Unlike perspective which permits a measured relation between pictorial space and real space, here the buildings and spaces produced a fictive world closed onto itself.

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Hence mimesis was many things, and the Greek revolution introduced approaches to art as representation which resembled matching. But ultimately these involved imitating distorted by a mental21 visual or a verbal filter. There existed as yet no systematic quest to record the visible world passively, rather than imposing adjustments on it actively. Matching The subtle shift from imitating to matching became a conscious programme during the Renaissance when, as Vasari noted, artists: sought to reproduce what they saw in Nature and no more and thus they came to consider more closely and understand more fully. This encouraged them to make rules for perspective and to get their foreshortening in the exact form of natural relief.22 It is important once more to stress how gradual was this process. If, for example, we consider some of the chief themes open to artists we could list at least eight basic visual themes in the natural world : portraits, human figures, persons at work, persons at war, persons at play, animals, landscapes, man-made objects, and four other verbal-visual sources deriving from literature ( myth, literature, religion, history). Most images in the Renaissance and the chief instances of perspective were inspired not by the visual themes (1-8), but by religion, and specifically, the Bible, and a few books on lives of the saints. Or to put it slightly differently, matching could involve the visual world; the visual world illustrating verbal sources, i.e. manuscript illustration; and the visual world illustrating implicit common verbal, as in books such as the Bible which were so much a part of a general cultural heritage that their basic themes could be taken as implicit and requiring no explanation. Of these, it was the final of these alternatives which inspired the most striking cases of Renaissance perspective. To understand this we must return to the problem of narrative. 4. Narrative In terms of narrative, it was precisely the best known stories which generated the classic examples of perspective. For instance, in the life of Christ, it was particularly the Annunciation (e.g. pl. 83.1-4) or the Last Supper which became topics of perspective, although other themes included the Birth, Adoration of the Magi, Flight into Egypt, Preaching in the Temple, Marriage at Cana, Flagellation, Crucifixion, Emmaus (pl. 85.2) and the Resurrection. Why should the best known stories become the most perspectival ones? A contrast with conditions of primitive connecting and Greek imitating is instructive here. In pre-literate societies the statue of a god, as an object which members of a tribe had in common, helped to define the group's communality. As already mentioned, this limited potential variations since deviations from the norm

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involved risk that the statue would no longer be recognized. With the advent of literacy, this changed. Texts recorded the characteristics of a given god or Deity, thus providing a corpus of what persons knew and had in common, a sense of communality, and since this burden no longer lay with the image, it could now be varied. The more famous a story became through texts, the more liberties could be taken with its representation. Perspective was a key to varying images. Hence the best known themes also became the best examples of perspective. With respect to the Greeks, it will seem that we have contradicted ourselves. For if Greek narrative precluded perspective, why then should Biblical narrative involve perspective? As Auerbach has shown23 the two traditions had fundamentally different approaches to reality. The Homeric tales were fictions guided by rhetorical ends of story telling, conflating myth and history, leaving no clear relation to reality. The Biblical stories, by contrast, were based on a belief in creatural realism, and were historical, such that their temporal and spatial coordinates were usually clear. The interpretation of Biblical narrative given by the Franciscan movement stressed this creatural realism. The birth of Christ was not merely treated as a story: a real child was laid in a manger and local peasants reenacted the role of Mary, Joseph and the shepherds. This was fundamentally different from the Greek theatre (cf. p. 2), which had developed impossible spaces setting it apart from the physical spaces of real architecture and everyday life. In the Franciscan movement, the story of life became a direct extension of the story of Christ and the narrative space in Christ's story could, and implicitly had to be extended into the space of real life. As Christian artists of the latter middle ages explored this narrative space these connections with physical space became ever more explicit until the possibility, even the necessity of matching pictorial and physical space became explicit also. Both primitive connecting and Greek imitating had been constrained by magical and ideal considerations, which acted as filters limiting art to universals of invisible and verbal worlds. The new concept of matching opened the horizons of artistic representation to the particulars of the visible world, which expanded even more through the prospect of varying. Varying In the case of the Annunciation, this process of varying has begun even before the rules of perspective had been formally established, as is evidenced by Pietro Cavallini's Annunciation (Rome, Santa Maria in Trastevere), or Ambrogio Lorenzetti's version (Siena, Accademia, 1344), generally accepted to be the first painting in which all the lines of the tiles converged to a single vanishing point. After Alberti's first treatise (1434), and particularly after the advent of printing in the 1450's, variation increased in scale. Some examples, such as the unknown fifteenth century painter in Santa Maria Novella, continued to produce rough empirical versions. Fra Angelico produced several variants using an open

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colonnaded space (e.g. Madrid, Prado), thus developing a form used earlier by Nicolo di Pietro Gerini (New Haven, Yale University Collection, 1375); or another with a portico opening into a garden (Florence, San Marco), a theme which Domenico Veneziano (Cambridge, Fitzwilliam, pl. 7.5) also explored. Sometimes the scene was inside on a regular pavement, as in the anonymous Annunciation in the Gardner Collection. Sometimes it was outside on such a pavement, as in the version by Francesco di Giorgio and Naroccio di Landini in the Yale Collection. At other times it was outside in a green garden as in the versions by Filippo Lippi (London, National Gallery) and Leonardo da Vinci (Florence, Uffizi). Crivelli, by contrast, developed a spatial example from Bellini's Sketchbook (pl. 83.1-2) in his Annunciation (London, National Gallery, pl. 83.3) which was at once symbolic of Christ's coming and at the same time a record of a papal grant by Innocent III to the citizens of Ascoli Piceno concerning certain rights in self government, which reached the town on the feast of the Annunciation, 25 March 1492. He thus combined information from a biblical text, a sketchbook and historical record. More complex textual sources called for a more complex picture, which required complex spatial arrangements made possible by perspective. Any attempt at classifying the full range of variants on the Annunciation would be a large book in itself. For our purposes it will suffice to note how every region developed its own variants on a subject. In Florence, Annunciations inside homes were the exception (e.g. Pollaiuolo's version in Berlin, Staatliche Museum, pl. 13.1). By contrast, Flemish versions were normally indoors: sometimes in living rooms, as in Robert Campin's version in the Metropolitan, sometimes in bedrooms, as in Rogier van der Weyden's version in Munich, Alte Pinakothek (pl. 12.2), or in the apses of churches, as in Jan van Eyck's version in Berlin, Staatliche Museum. In Germany, Annunciations were also frequently in bedrooms, as in Drer's woodcut, and in churches as in Grnewald's Isenheim Altar (Colmar, Muse d'Unterlinden, 1510-1515), but with very different uses of space. Meanwhile, other Flemish versions had combined elements of the living room, bedroom and church interior in a single, rather unlikely space as, for instance, in the Annunciation attributed to Henri met de Bles (Cambridge, Fitzwilliam Museum). Variants of this composite spatial arrangement became popular in Spain as witnessed by Alejo Fernandez' version (Seville, Museo de Bellas Artes) or in Berreguete's Annunciation (Burgos, Cartuja de Miraflores). This tradition of using perspective to create unexpected variants of a familiar theme was further developed in the seventeenth century, by which time varying went hand in hand with explorations of scale. In the case of Saenredam, for instance, nine of the eighteen construction drawings for his famous interiors involved a single church, St. Bavo, in Haarlem (e.g. pl. 20.5) which was further studied by De Witte (pl. 20.6), while Berckheydye depicted its exterior from different points of view (pl. 22.1-23.1).

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In terms of narrative, varying had a two edged effect on the story-telling process. On the one hand, it made a theme such as the Annunciation immensely rich in its many representations. On the other hand, in focussing so much attention on a key theme, it undermined, and even prevented interest in other elements of the story. Perspective which grew out of narrative thus posed a threat to a story's continuity. This was not only due to varying. It was caused also by a second feature of perspective which we shall term emphasizing. Emphasizing Perspective emphasized scenes in particular ways. It exaggerated the geometry of the man-made environment, thereby drawing a viewer's eye into a spatial scene, while at the same time reducing individual figures therein to a diminutive size. This was no problem in the case of idealized cities (e.g. pl. 96.3), but proved inconvenient in a Christian tradition which focussed on Christ, Mary and various saints. A compromise thus ensued. Individual figures continued to dominate the main panels while perspectival scenes relating to their lives were relegated to the predellas, as was seen in our discussion of altars (pp. ). Once the laws of perspective began to be understood in the 1430's, artists gradually discovered means of keeping figures in the foreground of perspectival settings. Domenico Veneziano's Annunciation (Cambridge, Fitzwilliam, pl. 9.5) was an early example. Piero della Francesca's Flagellation (Urbino, Galleria Nazionale dell Marche, c. 1460-1470) marked an important next step leading to the most famous cases of the high Renaissance: Leonardo's Last Supper (Milan, Santa Maria delle Grazie, c. 1495-1497) and Raphael's School of Athens (Vatican, Stanze, 15-15, pl. 11.5). In cases such as the Last Supper, there were psychological factors which combined to augment this process of emphasizing. Just as in portraits where eyes looking out of the picture continue to follow a viewer as they move to the side, perspectival pictures with alleys, corridors, rooms or any regular spatial features also follow a viewer as they move to the side.24 For this reason we can look at perspectival settings in theatres and movies, which are an extension of perspectival principles, from a number of seats. Michael Kubovy, who has explored this phenomenon, has termed this the robustness of perspective.25 Artists such as Leonardo obviously realized that the Last Supper would work even though its vanishing point was at a height above that of any ordinary observer. Indeed, precisely because it could be looked at without undue distortion from anywhere within the refectory of Santa Maria delle Grazie, was a major reason why it was worth emphasizing this painting to the exclusion of others. The same applied in the case of Bramante's fictive arch in Santa Maria presso San Satiro in Milan (pl. 5.4), and Tullio Lombardo's scenes from the Life of St. Mark in Venice (fig. 5.3). The fictive depth involved might be small, as in Piero della Francesca's Brera altar (pl. 7.1), or large, as in Masolino's version of Herod's palace at Castiglione d'Olona. The effects remained the same. And, as in the case of the varying function, the emphasizing function of perspective focussed attention on

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key episodes of a narrative thus serving also to undermine the continuity of a story. Yet a third factor contributed to this process. Relating In representing a story with many episodes painters were faced with a problem of individuating scenes. Frames were of some help, but these could not give many clues concerning the order in which scenes were to be read. Here perspectival treatment of certain features helped to relate scenes while at the same time separating them. We have already alluded to this problem in a quite different context (pp. ) using the example of Duccio's Maest (Siena, Museo del Duomo, 1288, pl. 2.1), but it will be useful to consider it again in more detail. On the reverse side of the altar, the story begins in the bottom left hand corner with Christ's entry into Jerusalem, moves in an up-down sequence towards the right, then returns to the upper left hand corner again criss-crossing its way to the far right. Three scenes with Christ and his Apostles (Washing of the Feet, Last Supper and Meeting with Apostles) all share one type of spatial interior with beams of the ceiling converging towards a central axis. Three scenes with Caiphais and the priests occur in an interior with a type of oblique parallel projection. A similar oblique parallel method applied to an awning supported by columns connects scenes with Pontius Pilate in the bottom right and top left. These protoperspectival elements thus relate separate scenes and help us to follow their sequence. In the Scrovegni Chapel at Padua (1304-1307), Giotto uses the same principle. An oblique view of an open fronted house serves for both the Annunciation to Saint Anne and the Birth of the Virgin. Similarly, a temple with a niche serves as a continuation between three scenes: the Ceremony of the Rods, Prayer for the Miracle of the Rods and Marriage of the Virgin. This function of relating separate scenes in a complex narrative explains why a few proto-perspectival elements became stock images, which improved empirically, while other architectural elements remained spatially awkward and unconvincing. And as we noted earlier it was precisely these stock images which were consolidated and standardized by the early perspective treatises (cf. pp. , pl. 2.2-3, 3.1-6). Relating took on many forms. In his Profanation of the Host (Urbino, Galleria Nazionale delle Marche, pl. 78.1), Paolo Uccello used two vanishing points going in different directions in order both to separate and relate the two scenes. The same principle was used in the Munich manuscript of Boccaccio (pl. 78.2), in the organization of the Teatro Olimpico at Vincenza (pl. 78.3) and in the gardens at Versailles (pl. 78.4). Hence scenes with different vanishing points could be implicitly related by means of perspective. Scenes physically separated from one another were also explicitly related by means of a single vanishing point. Giotto's Annunciation in the Scrovegni Chapel in Padua (1304-1306) was an early attempt in this direction. Masaccio--and Masolino?--developed this idea in the

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Annunciation in San Clemente in Rome, while Foppa used it dramatically in his Annunciation in S. Eustorgio in Milan.26 Nor was the principle limited to Annunciation scenes. Parronchi has suggested that Ghiberti used it on the doors of the Baptistery at Florence27 and has shown convincingly that Masaccio employed it a relating the Distribution of the Goods with Saint Peter Curing the Sick in the Brancacci Chapel (Florence, Santa Croce, 1426-1427).28 Once familiar, the method was used in more subtle ways. Spatially analogous scenes were related without their sharing a common vanishing point as, for instance, in Piero della Francesca's Annunciation and Dream of Constantine in Arezzo. Raphael developed these principles of relating in his famous juxtapositions of sacred and profane scenes in the Stanze. Here the situation was complicated by typological and symbolic considerations. The mediaeval period had seen an increasing fascination with parallels between the old and new testaments with minor references to relevant pagan figures such as the sibyls. This inspired the ceiling at Hildesheim in the eleventh and the great rose windows at Chartres, Paris and York in the thirteenth. In the next centuries the pagan element29 gained in significance to the point that Raphael in the Stanze was challenged with finding parallels between Christian and Antique themes such as the Church fathers versus the school of Athens. In these and other great cycles it was no longer a question of telling complete stories, but rather of choosing key episodes in stories which could be balanced by others.30 Hence all three basic functions (varying, emphasizing and relating), which made perspective so powerful, had the same effects. While focussing attention on key episodes in a narrative, they simultaneously undermined the continuity of the story telling process. Indeed as perspective provided more complex frameworks for the organization and comprehension of such scenes, their narrative order became less significant and sometimes disappeared. This helps to explain what would otherwise be two contradictory trends in the history of narrative cycles from the time of the Bayeux Tapestry (Bayeux, Town Hall, 1073-1083) and the mosaics at Monreale (1182), to the frescoes of Giotto in the Scrovegni Chapel (1304-1306) and Raphael in the Stanze (1507-1513). As the treatment of space improved, the number of scenes diminished. Monreale had 167, the Scrovegni had 53, the Sistine Chapel had 23 scenes. The sequential order of the story telling process also decreased in clarity. To attain a deeper understanding of these phenomena requires examination of contexts and frames. 5. Contexts Perspective brought with it a tendency to reduce a number of independent episodes and include these with a single spatial context, as is strikingly illustrated in Memling's Seven Joys of Mary (Munich, Alte Pinakothok, c. 1480), which integrated no less than seventeen episodes beginning with the Annunciation and ending with the Assumption of the Virgin. Similarly, in his Treatise of Painting, Leonardo recommended that one:

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must place the first plane at the eye level of the beholder of the scene and on that plane represent the first scene in large size and then, diminishing the figures and buildings on various planes, as you go on, make the setting for the whole story.31 These tendencies towards a single spatial context, containing several temporal episodes are of particular interest because they call into question the oppositions between painting and poetry articulated by Lessing. In his Laokoon, he suggested that painting and poetry used completely different means and signs in achieving imitation; that painting used figures and colours in space, while poetry used tones in time.32 Lessing elaborated on these basic oppositions. Painting, he claimed, was concerned with bodies, poetry with actions;33 painting with a totality, poetry with parts;34 painting with space, poetry with time.35 It is instructive that his examples drew constantly on Greek art and poetry and indeed might hold if restricted to a comparison between Greek sculpture and poetry. But they do not hold for the whole of art. Indeed, the many scenes integrated into a single spatial context as practiced by Memling, and recommended by Leonardo, show that perspective removed these oppositions and introduced different actions of a body, different parts in a whole and different times in a single space as important new dimensions of representation, which take us directly to some of the richest aspects of art in and since the Renaissance. For instance, the first of these, the ability to represent different actions of bodies prompted Leonardo to make a list of eighteen basic actions which could be painted36 and led him to explore kinematic sequences of men at work and play, a principle which has since inspired the development of motion pictures, television and video. The ability to represent different parts in a whole was equally fundamental in its consequences. For it explains why photographic details of Renaissance paintings can function as if they were photographs of complete paintings. This principle also makes possible the game of imposing imaginary frames in galleries and observing how each of these functions as independent pictures. Art dealers, who sawed off sections of old masters, and then sold these whole-sale were, of course, taking the game a bit too far. The principle which makes these games possible is intimately connected with problems of particulars and universals. A perspectival painting, i.e., a painting which has a context, is based on particulars, is comprised of individual features and has the astounding feature that its "parts" also function as wholes. Nature has this same feature which is why we can take any scene, add different lenses to our concern and each time come up with an independent picture. Note the connection between particulars, individuals and independence. Note that these are also a key to creating new frames, focussing on details and changing scales which are three ways of describing this open process.

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It is rather important to realize that none of this is possible as long as universals govern representation, as tended to be the case in Greece. Given universals, the goal of representation is perfection, literally putting an end to, a totality, a perfect totality. To remove any part of a totality is to destroy its perfection and to remove its aesthetic potential. (Or at least in theory, although some art historians will assure us that gods and goddesses are aesthetically the richer through amputation of arms, legs and other parts.) Hence a commitment to universals generates only parts dependent on a totality, which remain impersonal, static and without a temporal dimension. By contrast, a commitment to particulars leads to individuals independent of the whole, which can be personal, dynamic and with a temporal dimension. Because universals limit attention to the perfection of a totality, any change of frames would leave out some important part of that totality; any focus on a detail would leave the totality out of focus and any change of scale would make no difference: which is why photographs or slides of a three inch statuette or a six foot classical statue sometimes produce exactly the same effect. When the emphasis is on totality there is no context and no way of inferring scale. Indeed universals, with their commitment to perfection, produced an approach to representation which effectively denied the importance of size, scale, context, frames and time, i.e., precisely those features which perspective made the central concerns of Renaissance art and science. Mention of time brings us to the third of Lessing's oppositions which we need to consider briefly before returning to the connections between perspective and frames. Lessing's claim that poetry dealt with time, while painting dealt with space overlooked the ways in which perspective introduced spatio-temporal dimensions into painting. The most obvious examples involved episodes in the lives of saints as in the Memling painting mentioned above. But there were also much more subtle examples as in Carpaccio's St. George and the Dragon in the cycle devoted to that saint (Venice, Scuola di San Giorgio). In the foreground of the painting, just left of centre, we see a scene with a snake looking at a toad which looks in turn at a lizard. In a second scene, further back, we do not see the toad, while the lizard looks at the decomposing body of a woman obscuring most of the snake except for its tail, which forms an unexpected necklace for the corpse. In scene three, the toad reappears just right of the centre near the corpse of a man while the snake lurks beneath the corpse's left foot. In scene four, the snake devours the toad, while the lizard looks on. The subject may be unappetizing, but it suggests that Lessing's claims about time, parts and actions in painting were undigested. There were other subtle ways in which spatio-temporal dimensions came into play. As we have shown the matching function led to a natural extension of the represented space of the painting into the physical space of the environment where it was painted. Hence, as was noted in an earlier chapter (p. 31, cf. pl. 13.1-4,

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26.1), local townscapes inevitably entered as backgrounds in religious paintings. As these background townscapes became more pronounced they brought into focus unexpected anachronisms, for events in the life of Christ which had occurred fourteen or fifteen centuries earlier now stood in the foreground of a contemporary scene. By the late fifteenth century, when Ghirlandaio did his cycle on the life of Saint Francis (Florence, Sassetti Chapel, 1483-1486) ,he depicted the saint literally in the squares and streets of Florence. Here, of course, the anachronism involved, only a few centuries but even so Ghirlandaio did nothing to remove it. Perhaps there were problems in learning to see spatio-temporal dimensions in paintings, just as it took a long time before painters became aware of problems of shadows caused by the sun at different times of day in their landscapes. We might have expected the writings of Machiavelli, Guicciardini and other historians to introduce a greater historical consciousness, which would remove such anachronisms. Instead, the anachronisms persisted throughout the seventeenth, eighteenth and into the nineteenth centuries, until first the camera, and then the impressionists focussed attention on scenes limited to a specific place and time: Paris on a rainy afternoon, Arles on a sunny morning, etc. But long before this the anachronisms had taken on a subtler form. For as the contemporary background slowly moved forward to dominate even the foreground, the historical event retreated quietly into the background. By the mid seventeenth century with Claude we (almost) need to be told that the four figures standing in a landscape involve the story of Jacob and Laban (London, Dulwich Art Gallery); a principle that applies equally to mythological scenes such as his Coastal landscape with Apollo and the Cumean sibyl (Private collection, 1665). These shifts introduced by perspective deserve much more attention. For it is usually assumed that the development of secular art was largely due to a rejection of the religious tradition. We are suggesting that the reverse was true: that it was paradoxically the Christian tradition of creatural realism that combined with perspective to create frameworks for matching which extended biblical narrative into the physical world and made nature first a background topic and gradually a dominant theme in the history of representation. We have shown how contradictions between and combinations of spatial and temrporal dimensions played a central role in these developments. And Lessing's desire to maintain the simple polarities of painting-space versus poetry-time led him to overlook this, and indeed other fundamental contributions of Renaissance art. Frames To understand this properly we need to return to the problem of frames. For the whole phenomenon we have been describing of townscapes slowly coming into the foregrounds of religious paintings is very much a question of frames and fully analogous to a zoom lens which focusses on what had been a background detail, frames it and then increases its scale until it dominates the entire scene. Which is

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also why perspectival representation leads ineluctably towards a photographic image, where framing is almost the name of the game. We shall show that these connections between a play of perspective and frames go back at least to the time of Giotto in the Scrovegni Chapel at Padua (1304-106), but before doing so we need to refine an earlier claim. We have stressed that perspective applies not only to painting but to other arts such as architecture and sculpture involving various media including bronze, marble and wood. However, in another sense, perspective has special applications to painting because in this medium it imitates effects also produced by sculpture and architecture, and for this reason, Chastel,37 has justifiably opposed (painted) perspective to sculpture and architecture, or perhaps more accurately, painted perspective vies and equivocates with effects which sculpture and architecture create, thus encroaching upon and/or playing with the frames they impose or suggest. This did not always happen. In the case of altars, for instance, it played only a small role. As Heydenryk, in his history of frames has noted, Italian afterpieces imitated architectural features and effectively became cross sections of Gothic churches,38 while in the North "the elements of a frame were invariably emulations of architectural elements but no effort was made to create a logical architectural structure as had been done in Italy."39 The advent of perspective affected the contents of altars (cf. above pp. ) and meant that various ornamental patterns on their frames which had previously been sculpted, were now painted. But it had little substantive impact on the function of altar frames. By contrast, in the case of frames in the fresco cycles,40 perspective had an enormous impact. In the Scrovegni Chapel at Padua, Giotto explored the potentials of using proto perspectival effects to replace, or rather match (see below pp. ) architectural structures in his concealed chapels or coretti on the east wall. But while there was play of boundaries between architecture and painted architecture, there was effectively none between architecture and painted narrative, where each scene was neatly separated from the next by clear cut frames. Giotto experimented with both problems separately in the same building. The early renaissance pursued both experiments, discovered and formalized the perspectival principles underlying them. The high renaissance integrated the two experiments into a new synthesis as becomes clear if we turn to Michelangelo's Sistine Ceiling (1505-1508). As in the Scrovegni Chapel, there is a narrative cycle. But whereas Giotto's scenes maintained a certain uniformity in size, Michelangelo plays with their scale. In the central portion four large scenes alternate with five smaller ones which are flanked, in turn, by ten medallion-like scenes. In the corners there are four further scenes making a total of twenty-three episodes from the Old Testament. Then there are the forebears of Christ in the triangular niches and in the semi-circular niches below these. But the complexity of the Sistine Ceiling begins, in a sense, with the

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six sibyls alternating with six prophets in painted architectural cubicles enclosed by column-like painted sculptures and topped by painted nudes. The cubicles function as if they were part of a wall, the orientation of which keeps changing as we move through the chapel and constantly contradicts, or rather plays with the curvature of the actual ceiling. The nude figures seated on top of the columns require us to read the surface three dimensionally, while we remain aware of the ceiling as a flat surface. If we look higher than the nudes our eyes are drawn into an orientation 90 degrees to the side, and if we look higher still, we need to shift our orientation a total of 180 degrees if we are not to read the second set of nudes as falling down. Perspective continues to play a role in the actual scenes, as in the dramatic positioning of Haman on the cross. But its main function is now in the spaces between scenes, in, with, amongst the frames, provoking a complex interplay between painted, painted sculptural and painted architectural elements which, while continuing to separate the scenes, also integrate them into a new kind of systematic whole. Perspective now creates spatial illusions only seemingly to subvert them, playing with and on them to increase the potential for polyvalent readings of different scenes theoretically separated yet, systematically related. These polyvalent readings are encouraged by the nudes and other figures whose arms and feet continually reach and step into the neighbouring spaces. At the same time they are held in check by the painted architectural features which maintain some clear linear boundaries between the scenes. The mannerist period worried less about keeping these boundaries fixed. Already in the Gallery of Francis I at Fontainbleau, boundaries between painted, painted sculptural and painted architectural spaces were rendered more ambiguous a) by increasing the extent to which figures reach out beyond their given frame into adjacent spaces and b) by deliberate introduction of actual sculptural and architectural elements which overlap with their painted equivalents. This encroachment of figures and overlapping of art forms and media went ever further until it became difficult (e.g. pl. 77.1), and ultimately impossible (e.g. pl. 77.2), to know where one stops and the other begins. Hence if the high renaissance discovered frames and their media as realms of perspective, mannerism used perspective to play with frameworks, anamorphically distorting them in the process. Baroque art went further, playing with the whole distinction between the forms of frames and their contents. By the late seventeenth century, as baroque art moved towards rococo, the actual architectural spaces were manipulated and integrated in order to intensify this playful destruction of distinctions between frames and paintings, between form and content. The experiments had begun with Giotto's concealed chapels which played with distinctions between painted and real architecture. By the 1580's this play between painted and architectural reality had become a major challenge for masters of perspective, particularly in terms of di sotto in su paintings, which involved

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illusionistic ceilings such as that of Scamozzi and Sansovino in the Marciana library in Venice (pl. 72.1). This soon found published equivalents in treatises ranging from a single illustration in Danti's commentary (1583, pl. 72.2), to the 75 examples in a now almost forgotten collection by Has, which appeared in the same year (1583, pl. 73.3), which provided a context for Pozzo's illusionism in Il Ges (1691-1694, pl. 73.1) and also prefigured uncannily the twentieth century work of Escher (pl. 73.4, cf. 73.3). 6. Conclusions Such examples bear witness to an extraordinary shift in the applications of perspective, from the content of paintings to their form. For we have shown that perspective had basic consequences for both the spaces in paintings and the spaces of the frames between paintings. The first of these concerns led to shifts from isolated objects to scenes in context, to scenes in the context of a secular background and to secular scenes in a specific place and time and ultimately to new distinctions between these realistic spatio-temporal scenes and other more symbolic ones, where time and sometimes even space were not factors. Meanwhile, the second of these concerns began with the varying, emphasizing and relating functions of perspective, led renaissance artists to discover connections between perspective and the framing process, and to focus attention on the spatial forms of containers of paintings. As they did so, attention to the contents within the containers dwindled, or rather it shifted from narrative episodes to symbolic moments in the narrative which, in the next generations were reduced to symbols almost without moment until, finally, the capacities of perspective were focussed on form without content (e.g., pl. 73.1). Together these two developments transformed the whole of representation. They removed the oppositions between bodies and actions, totality and parts, space and time which Lessing had seen as separating painting and poetry. Indeed they revealed the limitations of Greek concepts of perfection and introduced new horizons of aesthetics in terms of size, scale, focus and frameworks. All this was only the beginning. By the mid-sixteenth century perspective had spread beyond the spaces of paintings and their frames, outside the buildings that contained them into the streets and gardens. In the seventeenth century perspective gradually transformed the use of physical space partly so that this too could be rendered more perspectivally, a process of transformation which gradually spread to the whole environment. This will concern as in the next chapter before we turn in the final section to show how perspective also transformed the landscapes of the mind cultivating new concepts of freedom and imagination, inspiring new developments in art which still continue.

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7. ARCHITECTURE AND ENVIRONMENT 1. Introduction 2. Italy 3. Netherlands 4. France 1. Introduction We have already emphasized that perspective was much more than a pictorial revolution, that it involved other media such as wood, bronze and marble; that it went hand in hand with the development of new man-made spatial environments, i.e. the representation of spatial doors; was part of a larger phenomenon, which included their architectural construction and sculptural reconstruction (pl. 4.1-2). If the development of such spatial structures created a context for the discovery of linear perspective, perspective in turn transformed the nature of these structures. At the outset this was mainly by way of playful equivocations between real and imaginary space as in the case of Bramante's Choir in Santa Maria presso San Satiro (pl. 5.4), or Michelangelo's ceiling of the Sistine Chapel, which might be seen as experiments in visual metaphor--see below 2.4. As the sixteenth century progressed, what had begun in some respects as a competition of perspectival painting versus architecture and sculpture, evolved into a new alliance between the three media, which were coordinated in playing with existing spaces and the creation of new ones. In the previous chapter, we showed how this helped to explain developments in the interiors of mannerist and baroque buildings. It soon spread to exteriors. Beginning in Italy, buildings were rearranged to control the observer's viewpoint, in order to make things appear nearer or further. Perspective was used to link interior spaces of villas and the exterior spaces of gardens. However, the hilly landscapes, in which the villas were usually constructed, imposed their own limitations on creating regular geometrical grids, which could function perspectivally. In the North of Italy, and in the Netherlands, where the flatness of the land imposed no such limitations, the idea of a geometrical perspectival pattern was explored seriously. By the 1560's, Vredeman de Vries had begun publishing books devoted specifically to perspectival fountains and gardens. There was great interest in these problems in France as a shown by Androuet Du Cerceau's (1576) publications on the great chateaux of France, which included views of gardens revealing many parallels with Netherlandish models and yet, with a difference. Whereas the Netherlandish examples invariably spread over an area of 100 or 200 feet, the French examples were many times larger. In 1587, when Du Perac came to France, he brought with him many Italian trends. These combined with existing methods to produce experiments on an ever greater scale: from the Tuilieries, to Vaux le Vicomte, and culminating in Versailles, which became the model for European cultural politics for over a century. Meanwhile, in England, there emerged a very different pattern, which rejected the geometrical regularity of the Netherlandish and French models, but nonetheless 5. England 6. Conclusions.

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emphasized new aspects of perspective. Here, theories about the aesthetics of Chinese landscape inspired fashions, which soon spread to the continent. The nineteenth century saw new applications of perspective in terms of town planning which continue to the present. Since then, illusionistic views, which were applied to interiors in the sixteenth, have become increasingly popular on the exteriors of buildings, creating new ambiguities between exterior and interior, in an environment where perspective plays ever more subtle roles. Each of these topics will e considered briefly in turn. 2. Italy An awareness that images could be transformed, and/or controlled depending on a viewpont, had come through the optical tradition, and particularly through the use of camera obscuras (see above pp. ). The study of perspective brought with it new attention to problems of controlled viewpoints. Brunelleschi's first perspectival demonstration required a camera obscura like aperture. Alberti is also reported to have made a perspectival box which required a fixed viewpoint. The idea lingered. Marolois (1614) and Dubreuil (1642-1649) described their construction and at least six perspectival boxes from the seventeenth century remain in museums.2 Fixed viewoints were also important for anamorphic effects. Leonardo (1513-1514) considered the possibility thereof and decided against it.3 But seventeenth century thinkers took up the idea and Nicron, for instance, played with the problem, in his anamorphic wall of Saint Francis de Paul, in San Trinit in Monte,4 while another Jesuit, Father Pozzo, specifically marked a spot on the floor, from which his fresco on the ceiling of Il Ges was intended to be seen.5 Controlled viewpoints were also of interest in the theatre (see below pp. ). Yet it was in the realm of architecture that this idea of controlled viewpoints gained a wider and more dramatic significance. Michelangelo, for instance, used the principle in designing the Piazza del Campidoglio on the Capitoline Hill (Rome, 1538-1564, pl. 88.2), constructing the two, side palaces diverging outwards with respect to the Senator's palace to give the impression that this is closer than it is, as one first approaches it coming up the stairs,-- which incidentally employ the same device --, from the Piazza d'Ara Celi, and conversely that the stairs appear further away than they are, when one looks from the Senator's palace back towards the city.6 The architect, Vignola, responsible for the book on perspective edited by Danti (1583), used this principle of controlled viewpoints even more dramatically at Caprarola, to give the impression that the fortress shaped palace was closer and more domineering than it actually was (pl. 98.1). Below the main house at Caprarola, he experimented with the spatial effects of a long alleyway integrating architectural and natural features. He pursued these experiments at the Villa Lante in Bagnaia, the Villa Giustiniani in Bassano, the Villa at Bomarzo and the Farnese Gardens in Rome.7 Others explored a combination of these effects, i.e., making the long alleyways converge in order to play with normal effects of perspective. Shepherd and Jellicoe

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have, for instance, analyzed three classic cases beginning with the Villa Dona dalle Rose at Valzanzibio where: the effect of distance is obtained by a gradual closing in of the elements, variety of the subtle breaks in the hedges and their freedom as they merge into the countryside, unity by the ribbon of grass, and a climax in the gigantic stairway of the fir avenue climbing the hill beyond.... At Collodi, the stunning widening of the cascade towards the top gives the effect of added distance above, and from below exaggerates the steepness and violence by bringing the top very much nearer. At the Villa Aldobrandini (pl. 88.3-4), at Frascati, both the lines and the levels of the cascade converge to a point in the topmost loggia. Here sits my lord, enjoying the apparent spectacle of the water tumbling dizzily in one vertical plane between the columns. Other views of the same cascade have very little drama.8 The Aldobrandini garden is of particular interest because it links a controlled viewpoint inside a building with a complex view outside which functions, ultimately as an extension of the architecture. Such deliberate manipulation of perspective to create spatial effects was subsequently exploited in baroque architecture. For instance, in Rome, the rows of columns which join the oval arcades with St. Peter's diverge in the direction of the Church, such that the great cathedral appears closer than it is as one approaches. Conversely, as one leaves, the distance of the square is exaggerated. As if to play with these effects, Bernini reversed them in his famous staircase, the Scala Regia. Here the columns converge in order to increase apparent distance as one climbs the stairs, and telescope distance as one leaves.9 As Sinisgalli has shown, Borromini's experiments in the Palazzo Spada (pl. 5.5) stood in a long tradition.10 Indeed, by way of context, it is important to recall that no less than four different traditions lay behind the approaches of the Renaissance. The most immediate of these was the mediaeval enclosed garden (hortus conclusus), which relied on certain geometrical regularities for symbolic and religious ends.11 A second tradition, also cosmological, was linked with ideal cities, such as Plato's Atlantis, or idealized landscapes, such as Dante's vision of Inferno (c. 1314), or Francesco Colonna's description of Cythera in the Hypnerotomachia Pamphili (1499). A third, involved the Roman tradition of gardening which had involved complex extensions of domestic space, with fountains, regular alleys of colonnades and works of art. Renaissance thinkers were inspired by this tradition. Androuet Du Cerceau, for instance, published reconstructions of the gardens of Antoninus (pl. 92.1), Ovid and others as examples of perspective in his books of Roman monuments. The resemblance between the secret garden of Pope Paul III,12 constructed behind the Vatican (1534), and such reconstructions, can hardly have been a coincidence.

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A fourth tradition involved theatre. Already in the fifteenth century, there were important connections between Brunelleschi's perspectival interests in representation and his spatial reconstructions for sacred plays.13 In the sixteenth century, these connections evolved greatly with Buontalenti's activities at the amphitheatre that joined with the Pitti palace in one direction, and the Boboli gardens in another. His perspectival scenery linked the space of the palace and countryside, and in the amphitheatre, literally played on distinctions between interior and exterior, thus extending artifice and play directly into nature.14 Nor was this limited to the stage. For the same Buontalenti worked with Bernardino Poccetti on the ceiling of the large grotto at the Boboli (1583-1588), which was simultaneously a construction integrating architectural and sculptural elements, and a representation involving perspectival frescoes, all in the context of a natural grotto, with hydraulic automats as an added feature.15 Buontalenti was also the teacher of Salomon de Caus, who spread to France and England the idea of grottoes, which were so shaped by artifice that they invited one to reflect on the meaning of natural (pl. 99.1). The same De Caus wrote both on perspective (1611) and on hydraulic devices16 of the kind which helped to inspire Descartes' mechanistic model of reality (see above p. ). Buontalenti's play between interior and exterior space may call to mind earlier discussions concerning the window principle (see above p. ), and the function of perspective in linking narrative and physical space (see above p. ). Yet there are important differences. There it was a question of linking a fictive and a real space. Here a real interior space is being linked with a real exterior space. Mantegna had moved in this direction with his painted perspectival aperture or oculus in the Camera degli Sposi in Mantua (pl. 70.2), which linked a real interior with potentially real clouds outside. Leonardo pursued, it when he used perspective in the Sala della Asse (Milan, Castello Sforzesco, c. 1497) to simulate an open canopy of interlacing branches and knots, through which one can see the sky beyond--a theme upon which Vignola played in the portico of the grand court in the Villa of Pope Julius III in Rome.17 Peruzzi took up the problem more directly in his Hall of Perspectives in the Villa Farnesina in Rome (c. 1516) which linked the interior space with a view of the city outside. Veronese took it further in the Villa Maser, where his perspectival frescoes linked the interior space with vistas down pathways which simulated actual views out of other windows elsewhere in the building. These examples bring to light an essential difference betweeen ancient spatial effects and those of perspective. At Pompeii, Herculaneum, the Villa at Oplontis and elsewhere the ancients invariably produced spatial effects by a closure of space. By contrast, as artists explored the implications of perspective they increasingly created spatial effects which opened space beyond a given interior into exterior landscapes. This was matching in a new sense, and a next logical step was to use painted perspectives as substitutes from real landscapes in gardens which, as we shall see, is precisely what happened in France. Before considering

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these developments, however, it will be useful, by way of context, to mention the Netherlands, which took up another strand of the Italian tradition, that France subsequently developed further. 3. Netherlands The secret garden of Paul III (1534) behind the Vatican had been constructed as an independent space, enclosed by walls with galleries crossing at right angles dividing the gardens into quarters. In the next generation, the nearby gardens of Julius III (1550) were again constructed in independent spaces,18 while the gardens of the Villa d'Este (1550) were carefully planned as a series of neatly defined adjacent spaces. This principle of gardens, clearly framed by a gallery or a wall, appears to have held a particular fascination for Vredemen de Vries, who produced what was probably the first collection of perspectival views of gardens (1583 etc., pl. 92.2-3). For our purposes, it is fascinating to note how, as an architect, Jan Vredeman de Vries, treated gardens as if they were simply extensions of his buildings, such that his main task became one of imposing regular geometrical patterns on the greenery. Indeed, he went so far as to adapt the principle of the five architectural orders (doric, ionic, corinthian, tuscan and composite), as a means of distinguishing gardens of lesser and greater complexity (e.g., pl. 92.3). The most developed of these, could show a group of four or five adjacent gardens, but even so the scale of the entire space remained limited to a maximum of a few hundred feet. His son, Paul, maintained this framework. He linked the five orders to the five senses, and again showed differing gardens in the background. The distance to the gate at the end of the garden might be a hundred feet further. There might even be a hint of space beyond, yet this was so hazily treated as if to show it was out of bounds. The focus of Vredeman senior and junior, as well as his student Hondius, was on a small enclosed perspectival space, which functioned, curiously, as if it were a secular version of the mediaeval walled garden (hortus conclusus). Elsewhere in the North a more ample concept of natural space was emerging. As early as 1511-1513, Wolf Huber, had, for instance, sketched a view of Urfahr near Linz, on which he superimposed perspectival lines (pl. 91.2). He also made a preparatory sketch showing Christ on the Mount of Olives (1526, pl. 91.1), in which perspectival lines were again imposed on a landscape stretching into the distance.19 In the text attributed to Rodler (1531) there were also illustrations to show how the principle of a perspectival window could be applied to landscapes. Yet it was particularly in France where the larger horizons of perspective were first thoroughly explored. 4. France The reasons were partly political. At a time when the Netherlands were still stifled by Spanish control, and Germany remained a series of isolated states, France was

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already a country where enormous power was centralized in the hands of a few influential families. Even a cursory glance at the gardens in Androuet Du Cerceau's collection of great French houses (1576) reveals a new sense of scale. The palace at Gaillon, for instance, has connected with it, a walled garden with a geometrical layout reminiscent of individual gardens at the Vatican, or those of Vredemen de Vries. But beyond this is a so-called park, which consists of a regularly spaced orchard, plus at least a dozen geometrically organized rectangular gardens. Italian gardens such as the Boboli may in fact have been larger, but being spread out over several hills, they did not produce the same cumulative effect. Spread out on flat land, the park at Gaillon, might still nominally be contained within low walls, but even so they conveyed a sense of stretching much further. The sense of space ending after a few hundred feet as in Vredeman de Vries does not apply here. The same book also contains a ground plan to the chateau at Charleval, which offers a preview of the new aesthetic that is evolving. The chateau is on a quadratic island, bounded by a moat rather than a wall, i.e., interrupting physical contacts without interfering with visual links between interior and exterior. Directly behind it, and connected to it by means of a small bridge, is a second island containing a garden comprising twelve square, ten rectangular, two angular and one oval compartments. From the chateau, across the bridge, there is a view which goes straight down the path, across the moat and into the open. How such a view could be extended, not just another few hundred feet, but to the limits of the horizon became a major concern a seventeenth century France.20 As the idea evolved, it became clear that much more was involved then producing a straight road that continues to the limits of vision. More and more elements needed to be controlled in order to create the desired effect. It was not just a case of aligning a few bushes and trees to create alleyways. The irregularities of nature had to be systematized. This process may have been stimulated by the sojourns in France of both Leonardo and Serlio. The works of Androuet Du Cerceau attest that the process was well under way by the 1570's. The arrival from Italy of Du Prac (1587) and De Caus (c. 1600) must have brought new incentives. By 1600 Olivier de Serres was convinced that the gardens of France were the finest anywhere. As examples he cited Fontainebleau, Saint-Germain-en-Laye, the Tuileries, Monceaux and Blois adding: It cannot be without a sense of wonder that one beholds plants speaking in the form of letters, mottoes, numbers, coats of arms, clocks, gestures of men and animals, dispositions of buildings, ships, merchant vessels and other things imitated in plants and bushes with marvelous industry and patience.21 The Jesuits published the shape of things to come. For example, Dubreuil (16421649), demonstrated how trees were effectively reducible to rows of geometrical lines (pl. 90.1-2) and how bushes could be fashioned into rectangular bodies,

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bringing to gardens all the regularities of a geometrical ground plan (pl. 90.3-6). Vredeman de Vries had imposed architectural orders on the curious shapes in his gardens (pl. 92.3). Dubreuil went further. He explicitly compared the principle of the vanishing point in an architectural construction with that of a row of trees (pl. 91.3). His contemporary, Bosse (1648) took this regimentation of nature to a logical conclusion, transforming nature into avenues of regular or near regular green solids (pl. 91.4), reducing nature, in fact, to simple architectural forms. Morel in his Theory of Gardens (1776) described these tendencies, accusing the architect of confusing the principles of architecture and gardening: and being too accustomed to regular forms,...he tried to link by mutual correspondence a building, which he made his principle object to a garden, which seemed to him only an accessory. He arranged a garden like a house; organized it into halls, rooms, corridors, made divisions with walls of hedges, pierced by doors, windows, arcades, and their piers were filled with all the ornaments destined for buildings. As a result of this false analogy, architects gave these rooms, round, square and octagonal forms, like those in their buildings; they decorated them like an apartment, with vases, niches, openings in which they put statues as lodgers, insensible inhabitants, well suited to so dismal an abode. They furnished them like rooms with carpets of greenery, of trellis work, painted perspectives, beds and seats of earth covered by grass. They went as far as building theatre rooms, dormitories and ultimately even devised a miniature labyrinth. Always architects when they should have been gardiners, they cut a tree like a stone, as a vault, a cube or a pyramid and reduced even water, if mobile, to their forms.22 Once reconstructed with such regularity, nature could be represented perspectivally and accordingly gardening treatises recorded the increasing significance of perspective. For example, Olivier de Serres, in his Theatre of agriculture (1600) observed: It is worth noting that in looking at compartments from a distance, as far as the bedding of a garden is concerned, it is useful to make more distant rows further from one another, than the ones one sees from nearby. One will see them as being closer together the further away the eye is, for the good reason that the object diminishes in accordance with its distance as a result of perspective. For this same reason, the rows of compartments occlude one another, when one looks at them from the level of the garden itself, walking along the alleys, because, since the viewpoint from which one looks is low, the view is taken up by the first rows of plants which it encounters, which do not permit it to extend as far as the others. For this reason, it is desirable that gardens be viewed from on high, be it from neighbouring buildings, be it from terraces around the confines of the garden, as the King had had done by artifice at the Tuileries with his fine alley of mulberry bushes, and also at Saint-Germain-en-Laye, where nature

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has contributed a great deal of her own through the altogether favourable lay of the land.23 Claude Mollet, in his Theatre of plants and gardens, (also written c. 1600 but not published until 1652), drew attention to another perspectival problem: The largest alleys you will plant are the noblest ones. In any case, it is necessary to proportion them in keeping with the length that you are able to give them. Hence, those which will be one hundred and fifty fathoms long, must be made five fathoms wide, because perspective foreshortens them.24 His son, Andr Mollet, in his Pleasure garden (1651) returned summarily to the problem, which De Serres had considered: First, it is to be noted, that the parterres which are more distant from the eye, need to be made larger than those which are nearby, in order to appear more pleasing to the eye and better proportioned.25 This amounted to looking at immense gardens as potential anamorphic games requiring subtle adjustments to create desired effects. At Chantilly, for instance, the ponds were constructed in oval shapes such that, when seen from the terrace, they appeared to be foreshortened circular basins. In baroque interiors there was an increasing fascination with the ambiguities of perspectival space. Gardens now became the exterior equivalents of these concerns. Hence, it was no longer enough to reconstruct nature geometrically, so that it could function perspectivally. Playing with these effects became a new source of optical entertainment. For example, Michelangelo's technique of making buildings diverge in order that they look closer (pl. 88.2), was adapted by Le Ntre to affect the layout of the entire property at Dampierre, with the added feature that the space at the end of the garden was made to converge in a V shape in order that it appear further.26 The french landscape gardener Dezallier d'Argenville used such a divergent space, specifically referring to it as an Italian esplanade.27 It was used again at Luneville and became a familiar feature in French gardens. The reverse effect of converging space was equally popular. It was used to increase the apparent length of an avenue of grass beyond the main pond at Chantilly and developed at Rydorp (pl. 89.1) and Wrzburg (pl. 89.2) to make gardens look much larger than they actually were. At Chenonceau (pl. 89.3), the principle was applied to increase grandeur by exaggerating apparent distance to the entrance of the chateau, an idea subsequently exploited on a grand scale at Versailles (pl. 89.4). At the Olympic Theatre in Vicenza, Scamozzi had used this principle for interior stage sets (pl. 78.3). At Versailles, it was adapted for the socalled water theatre in the garden (pl. 78.4). At the Hannoverian court of Herrenhausen, it was used to increase effects of distance on an open air stage.28 These playful uses of perspective went hand in hand with other developments involving painting, as it became clear that, if perspective could be extended to paintings of nature, such paintings could in turn be used to extend effects of nature.

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Once again the roots of this idea lay in Antiquity. Vitruvius reported how in their covered walks the Romans: painted landscapes representing different sites; some showing ports, promontories, shores, rivers, fountains, streams; others temples, graves, flocks, shepherds. And in some places they painted large pictures representing the gods as they are described in fables.29 As in the case of Roman scene paintings (see above p. ), the emphasis was on imaginary situations, mythological scenes and different sites, rather than a commitment to extend the space of the surrounding countryside. The idea of paintings in gardens was revived in the Renaissance. In the Hyperotomachia Pamphili (1490), for instance, Francesco Colonna spoke of painted scenes in the garden at Cythera.30 Erasmus, also broached the problem in his Colloquies, when the guest Timothy discovered that the marble column he saw was actually painted: Timothy: An artistic deception indeed. I'd have sworn they were marble. Eusebius: Let that be a warning to you not to believe or swear to anything rashly: appearances often deceive. We make up for lack of wealth by ingenuity. [They turn now to the frescoes on the walls of the galleries]... Eusebius: Our garden wasn't enough to hold all kinds of plants. Moreover, we are twice pleased when we see a painted flower competing with a real one. In one we admire the cleverness of nature, in the other the inventiveness of the painter; in each the goodness of God, who gives all things for our use and is equally wonderful and kind in everything.... This painted grove you observe, covering the entire wall, presents a varied spectacle. In the first place, you see as many varieties of trees as you do trees, each one represented with no little accuracy....31 Yet there were important differences between these paintings and, those of the Vitruvian tradition. These paintings were of real objects in nature, not imaginary ones. Moreover, part of the delight stemmed directly from comparing real flowers with painted ones, using painting as an extension of real particulars of nature surrounding one, rather than as evocations of imaginary universal scenes of nature outside of place and time. A little over a century later, the Italian author, Bisagno, in his Treatise on Painting (1642), included a special section on "what sort of paintings are to be painted in fountains, gardens, in rooms and other places of pleasure," where he explained that one could use: various perspectives which have the effect of extending the gates and walls of the garden and besides, the columns in the intervals, landscapes which accompany them in such a way that they appear to follow those of nature, adding some stories which are appropriate to such places.32

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Here a lingering Vitruvian tradition produced combinations of natural and mythological scenes. By contrast, in France, perspectival paintings became literal extensions of landscapes. For example, Andr Mollet, in his Pleasure Garden (1652) described the use of bushes and trees to create long alleyways at the end of which "one will place beautiful perspectives painted on canvas in order that one can remove them from the injuries of weather when one wishes."33 At Reuil, there was a grotto decorated with shells, stalactites and columns in a niche offering: "a perspective of which the sky is painted with colours so natural that one is assured that birds were deceived and thinking they were flying in the open air they killed themselves".34 Unlike the famous story of Zeuxis and Parrhasius, cited earlier (p. ), which involved isolated objects, this involved a whole context. At Rueil, there was also a "perspective" in the form of a trompe-l'oeil arch in the middle of a real park (pl. 99.1). Nor were such methods limited to France, as we learn from the following description of the "perspective" at Schwetzingen: Ahead of us lies a dark pathway, and in the far distance a pleasing landscape appears, stretching out before our eyes, a landscape based on a drawing by the court painter Ferdinand Kobell and painted so deceptively on an oval-shaped wall by a common house painter in Mannheim by the name of Truckenm ller, that one truly believes, at first glance, that a broad natural landscape is unfolding before one. What gives rise to this beautiful effect is, in part the approach by means of a heavily shaded pathway three hundred and seventy feet long, in part the fact that the landscape is painted on an oval form [i.e. a concave surface] and just before coming to this, one finds oneself at a small grotto broken up by an artificial cliff, where the water that runs off the walls and the ceiling collects in the basin.35 That the view at Schwetzingen was called "The perspective", reflected more than local usage. The French term "perspective" had literally come to mean: "a painting which represents gardens or buildings at a distance and which one places at the end of a gallery or alleyway in a garden, in order to deceive the eye pleasantly."36 If artists had begun by matching paintings with nature, a complex process of matching nature to paintings was now emerging. Hence, De Serres (1600) recommended that a garden should resemble "a panel of an exquisite painting which has come from the hand of a good master"37 just before discussing perspective. Elsewhere, he suggested that gardiners should base their work on the drawings of painters.38 Nor were such remarks limited to France, Shenstone (1765), in England made related, albeit more critical, comments: I have used the word landscape-gardeners; because, in pursuance of our present taste in gardening, every good painter of landscape appears to me the most proper designer. The misfortune of this is, that these painters are apt to regard the execution of their work, much more than the choice of subject.39

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A generation later, Medikus (1783), in Germany, pursued the analogy in a more subtle vein : Just as a landscape painter, by a juxtaposition or combination of individual natural beauties, has an unlimited material for the most beautiful paintings, which he uses and orders with an inventive spirit, so too must the gardiner first study these beauties of nature and make himself familiar with them, before he dares to set up such a nature painting in the garden that he has to construct, all the more so, in order that one will not tend to get rid of his efforts in the way that one removes the painting of a bad landscape artist from the walls of its owner.40 By the late nineteenth century, there analogies between painting and landscape had become sufficiently commonplace that artists could treat them satirically. When, for example, a lady mentioned that a landscape reminded her of his work, Whistler quipped: "Yes, Madam, nature is catching up."41 A closer reading of the above passages reminds us that etymologically "painted landscapes" existed before the concept of landscapes in the modern sense emerged. Perusal of the Oxford English Dictionary, for instance, confirms that the term landscape first appeared as "painted landskips" in Haydocke's translation of Lomazzo (1595) and soon led to Du Bartas (1605) reference to "the cunning painter limning a landscape" and Howell's (1642) report: "how some have used to get on the top of the highest steeple, where one may view all the country circumjacent and so take a landskip of it." Such turns of phrase offer insights into the complexities and paradoxes which the perspectival matching principle had set in motion. If painting copied nature, nature also copied painting. To represent nature perspectivally, required that it be reconstructed artificially, and the artifice of painted landscapes then made possible the discovery of natural landscapes. At a practical level, all this led to experiments on an ever greater scale. The Tuileries led to Richelieu and Rosny, and pointed the way to Vaux le Vicomte and Versailles.42 To create the view at Vaux le Vicomte, two villages had to be removed. To create Versailles, a whole countryside had to be adjusted, which is one reason why the plan took nearly a century to complete (1664-1758). But then Versailles was much more than a house or a garden. It was a grand demonstration how geometry and perspective were matrices for the organization of nature. And, in a sense, it was an encyclopaedia of all the optical and perspectival experiments of the past two centuries. It contained views to the limits of the horizon, and others which were cut short to produce special effects, spaces which converged to exaggerate a sense of distance, others which diverged to telescope effects of distance; terraces and slopes which played on one's estimates of distance. Androuet Du Cerceau had once produced a book on all the famous houses of France. Prelle (1722) could devote an entire book to the wonderful views of this one complex.

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Versailles has often been called a symbol of absolute power. This is misleading. For at a certain level the assertion of power involved was absolutely literal. To approach the King's premises, required experiencing how every view reaching to the horizon had been transformed and was now in his control. Moreover, just as individual figures had shrunk to an insignificant size in the early perspectival paintings, visitors to Versailles experienced this in real life, when confronted by the grand scale of buildings and gardens. And these demonstrations of power already exercised, were the real power behind a so called absolute throne. Versailles had many consequences. At Salzdahlum, the Duke of Lower Saxony, literally made a wooden replica.43 In Augsburg, Decker (1711), adopted its principles with teutonic thoroughness to show how they could be extended to every nook and cranny of the horizon (pl. 93.2). The Nymphenburg in Munich (1701) and Schnbrunn in Vienna (1759-1760), were important imitations. Sans Souci (1745) and Wrzburg (1770) were interesting variants, yet they basically added little that was new.44 They confirmed that if one extended the principles of perspective to transform the whole environment, it came with the price of regularity, which could be surprisingly predictable, and sometimes even monotous. 5. England One country developed conscious alternatives to this regimentation of nature. But this came slowly. For a long time, England remained much influenced by the continent. Witness the gardens at Wilton House (1630's), Longleat (1675, 1678), Petworth (1695), Blenheim (1704-1764) and Hampton Court Palace (1702-1710). For a time, the influence had been Netherlandish, as Dennis remarked: While architectural vistos were imitated by planted avenues, the charge of inconsistency could not be advanced against disposition of a flower garden, into beds of unnatural figures, not infrequently assimilated with the unnatural shape of, what is termed, a Pope Joan table. Happily this Dutch style was for some years superseded.45 As late as the 1760's, there remained a fascination with formal effects of loss of distinctness perspective, and linear perspective, as witnessed, for instance by Shenstone's (1765) recommendations A straight-lined avenue that is widened in front, and planted there with yew-trees, then firs, then with trees more and more fady, they end in the almond-willow, or silver osier; will produce a very remarkable deception of the former kind; which deception will be increased if the nearer dark trees are proportionable and truly larger than those at the end of the avenue that are more s[h]ady.46

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But this was the generation of Stourhead (1740-1785), and the atmosphere was changing,47 as is also reflected in Chambers (1772) description of continental developments which was as damning as it was colourful: The gardens of Italy, France, Germany, Spain, and of all the other countries where the ancient style still prevails, are in general mere cities of verdure; he walks are like streets conducted in strait lines, regularly diverging from different large open spaces, resembling public squares; and the hedges with which they are bordered, are raised, in imitation of walls, adorned with pilafters, niches, windows and doors, or cut into colonnades, arcades and porticos; all the detached trees are shaped into obelisks, pyramids and vases; and all the recesses in the thickets bear the names and forms of theatres, amphitheatres, temples, banqueting halls, ball rooms, cabinets and saloons. The streets and squares are well manned with statues of marble or lead, ranged in regular lines, like soldiers at a procession; which, to make them more natural, are sometimes painted in proper colours, and finely gilt. The lakes and rivers are confined by quais of hewn stone, and taught to flow in geometrick order; and the cascades glide from the heights by many a succession of marble steps: not a twig if suffered to grow as nature directs; nor is a form admitted but what is scientific, and determinable by the line or compass.48 To leave no doubt concerning his views Chambers added that this European style was "held in detestation." His respect for typical English gardens was not much higher, which brought him to the topic announced in the title of his work: A Dissertation on Oriental Gardening. Among the extraordinary features which he attributed to Chinese gardens, was a complex use of space involving multiple viewpoints of an object: Where the ground is extensive, and many scenes can be introduced, they generally adapt each to one single point of view; but where it is confined, and affords no room for variety, they dispofe their objects so, that being viewed from different points, they produce different re-presentations; and often such as bear no refemblance to each other. They likewife endeavour to place the separate scenes of their compositions in such directions as to unite, and be seen all together, from one or more particular points of view, whence the eye may be delighted with an extensive, rich and variegated prospect. They take all possible advantage of exterior objects; hiding carefully the boundaries of their own grounds; and endeavouring to make an apparent union between them and the distant woods, fields and rivers: and where towns, castles, towers, or any other considerable objects are in sight, they artfully contrive to have them seen from as many points, and in as many directions as possible. The same they do with regard to navigable rivers, high roads, foot-paths, mills, and all other moving objects, which animate and add variety to the landscape.49

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Chambers went on to relate this aesthetic of mutliple viewpoints to advanced uses of linear perspective, anamorphosis, and colour perspective among the Chinese: All sorts of optical deceptions are also made use of; such as paintings on prepared surfaces, contrived to vary the representations as often as the spectator changes place: exhibiting, in one view, groupes of men; in another, combats of animals; in a third, rocks, cascades, trees and mountains; in a fourth, temples and colonades; and a variety of other pleasing subjects. They likewise contrive pavements and incrustations for the walls of their apartments, of Mosaic work, composed of many pieces of marble, seemingly thrown together without order or design; which, when seen from certain points of view, unite in forming lively and exact representations of men, animals, buildings and landscapes: and they frequently introduce pieces of architecture, and even whole prospects in perspective; which are formed by introducing temples, bridges, vessels, and ther fixed objects, lessened as they are more diftant from the points of view, by giving greyish tints to the distant parts of the composition; and by lanting there trees of a fainter colour, and smaller growth, than those that ppear in the fore ground: thus rendering considerable in appearance, what in reality is trifling.50 Sir William Chambers was also involved with Kew gardens, which accounts for the pagoda and other oriental features which still remain there today. But his text is of interest to us for other reasons. Two years before this, Thomas Whately had published his own Observations on modern gardening (1770). Unhappy with the frontal methods of perspective dominant in Europe, Whately proposed alternatives which bore an uncanny resemblance to Chambers' so called oriental methods: Buidlings, in general, do not appear so large, and are not so beautiful, when looked at in front, as when they are seen from an angular station, which commands two sides at once and throws them into perspective: but a winding lateral approach is free from these objections, it may besides be brought up to the house without disturbing any of the views from it; but an avenue cuts the scenery directly in two, and reduces all the prospect to a narrow vista. A mere line of perspective, be the extent what it may, will seldom compensate for the loss of that space which it divides and of the parts which it conceals.51 Whately illustrated his point with a long description of the approach to Caversham, the seat of Lord Cadogan, near Reading. The following year (1771) there appeared in French a work entitled The art of forming modern gardens, or the art of English gardens. Translated from the English to which the translator has added a preliminary discourse on the origin of the art. The preface began with what was rare praise for a Frenchman: Without pretending that their gardens are exempt of faults, I believe that those who have seen them and who sense the extent to which

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noble simplicity is superior to all the symmetrical refinements of art, will prefer their gardens to ours.52 There followed the preliminary discourse, which was a translation of Chambers' Dissertation on Oriental gardening53 and served as an introduction to a translation of Whately's Observations on modern gardening. Obviously the translator had also been struck by the parallels between the two. In one of his notes the translator dealt with a perspectival problem omitted by Whately. We shall quote it for, if it may betray how little the translator actually understood the details of English aesthetics, it also reveals how far the consequences of perspective had gone: Animated objects are a genre of beauty so interesting and so particular to English gardens that it would be desirable that the author would have dedicated a section to them. Thereby, it seems to me, he would have made his work more complete. Not every species of animal is appropriate for every perspective, and even through everyone knows that goats enliven a rocky scene and that sheep spread across the bottom of a valley, form a most pleasing pastoral picture, it is, nonetheless, in this branch of art, which involves the manner of distributing animals, that there exist fine nuances, known to the English, and which the author might perfectly well have explained to us in his manner had he so wished.54 The English response to this French enthusiasm concerning their methods was mixed. For example, the anonymous author of Planting and Ornamental gardening (1785), set out to prove that claims about English gardens being founded on those of the Chinese was "founded in Gallic envy rather than in truth."55 The same author launched a vigorous attack on the whole complex interplay between painting and landscape which perspective had stimulated: In a picture bounded by its frame, a perfect landscape is looked for: it is of itself a whole, and the frame must be filled. But it is not so in ornamented Nature.... Suppose a room to be hung with one continued representation, would pretty pictures be expected? would correct landscapes be looked for? Nature scarcely knows the thing mankind call a landscape.... Let the ingenious artist call from Nature her choicest beauties...but do not let us carry his production back again to Nature and contract her unbounded beauties within the limits of a picture-frame.56 In spite of such protests, the Anglo-Chinese style, exerted considerable influence, and the analogies between painting and nature continued. In Italy, Silva (1801), in his book On the art of English gardens (1801) repeated Chamber's theories concerning oriental gardening and also emphasized the importance of colour perspective in a manner reminiscent of Shenstone:

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The expert gardiner will take care that the distribution of his greens obtains the effect of perspective of colours, called aerial perspective by painters.... If he has a small space, and wishes to have his wood, valley, or bush disappear rapidly from a given point of view, he should be encouraged to place up front, trees and bushes which have a deeper green, larger and more detailed leaves; trunks, with rougher and darker bark, putting at the limits of the horizon, the paler greens, the smoother trunks, the whiter leaves, which produce such a brilliant effect when dominated by the sun. Thus he will obtain the marvelous effect of enlarging the place by reducing colours with the same rules, that linear perspective has established for the landscape painter.57 In England, Humphrey Repton (1805), one of the greatest Engtlish authors on gardening reasserted links between painting, perspective and gardening: The art of landscape gardening is in no instance more intimately connected with that of painting than in whatever relates to perspective, or the difference between the real and apparent magnitude of objects, arising from their relative situations, for without some attention to perspective, both the dimensions and the distances of objects will be both changed and confounded.58 Repton devoted an entire chapter on optics or vision59 and included an appendix with his theory of colours and shadows.60 His chief concern was how optical and perspectival principles of occlusion could be used in planning improvements to landscapes as seen from a specific viewpoint: how, for instance, a careful positioning of trees and shrubs could hide an industrial suburb of Bath from a nearby park, or how removal of certain trees could open up a beautiful vista of a lake. Repton provided beautiful flap up pictures showing before and after effects to illustrate his examples. Perspective, which had helped to create an awareness of context, was now being applied to isolated parts deemed to need adjustment in that context. In the English tradition, these adjustments became associated with deception. Perspective belonged to the category of special effects. Dennis (1835), mentioned an example: At Corsham, in this vicinity, where the exclusive object is to produce pictoresque effect on view from the picture gallery, a grand river appears flowing through the park by a complete deceptio visus,the eye not perceiving sunk spaces intervening between successive sheets of water.61 Given these associations, perspective was no longer an essential instrument for organizing the environment. It became an emergency measure, a technique to be applied only in exceptional cases: But when absolutely necessary to conceal an object, to break a line to foreshorten an ill-proportioned area, or sometimes to give perspective, a parterre should received irregular form and be composed of incurvated lines.62

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And so perspective, which had moved to the foreground of all spatial orientation in France, moved into the background and seemed to lose its integrating significance in England. Or to put it differently: the English tradition focussed attention on the occlusion principle of perspective. As such, it could be used as a means, without necessarily being visible in the end result: e.g. perspective could be used in deciding how to occlude an ugly view with a clump of trees, without these trees needing in any way to be perspectivally arranged to create special effects of depth.63 As the nineteenth century progressed, this was perfected into a technique which allowed one to see what effect a new building or complex would have on a skyline or popular view. Essentially, this is the same method which has since been mechanized in the methods of photo-montage which authors such as Jantzen (1983) have recently made popular (see above p. ). It applies perspectival principles of occlusion specifically to a building or complex of buildings and is usually not concerned with context as a whole. And in a curious way, this relates to another fashion of our times, which plays on the occlusion principle of perspective, to create spatial views on the exteriors of buildings, which frequently bear no connection with their context, and function rather as surprise snapshots or frames into other imaginary spaces.64 But whereas the nineteenth century used the occlusion principle literally to close views and spaces, the twentieth century method plays with the possibilities of physically closing and yet optically opening the same spaces by making careful use of perspective, using the frame principle in a new way. 6. Conclusions In the previous chapter dealing with interiors, we showed that perspective affected both the contents and the forms of pictures. The first of these concerns led to emphasis on spatial context; the second led to emphasis on their frames, and ultimately to geometrical plays of form, at the expense of content. In this chapter, we have shown that perspective had equally profound consequences for exteriors, for spaces outside buildings, and have found that there were again two different strands of influence, with certain parallels to the different concerns affecting interior space. In terms of exteriors, one tradition explored the consequences of perspective for the contents of nature. This tradition began in Italy, received certain impulses in the Netherlands, and was taken to its logical consequences in France. It was concerned with, what might be termed the opening principle of perspective, i.e. the converse of the occlusion principle. Its effects were extraordinary. It approached nature as an extension, first of architecture, and ultimately of geometry, transforming and reducing its myriad irregularities to the predictable contours of regular and semi-regular solids. In the process, the content of nature was subordinated to context, and emerged as a pattern of geometrical matrices. And as in the painted ideal cities, the scale of the geometry was such, that it rendered the individual seemingly insignificant, making

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it attractive to absolutist monarchs such as Louis XIV, and various totalitarian minds since. In interiors, the study of perspectival contents had led to contexts, but there being many of these within the frames, these contents had remained isolated spaces, and it was the study of frames that brought a more universal context. In exteriors the reverse happened. Here study of contents affected one universal context within which, by contrast, frames functioned as isolating features, snapshots which, even though they assumed a greater whole, nonetheless, focussed on parts, leading towards a fragmentation of space. The English aesthetic, which concentrated on the occlusion principle of perspective and its framing functions, led in this direction. We have shown that perspective affected not only the representation of space in painting, but also the reconstruction of space in the environment, and that, from the outset, there were complex interactions between the two activities. In this chapter, we have deliberately cited some extreme examples to focus attention on unexpected applications of perspective. It must be emphasized, however, that perspective was much more than a Hobson's choice between these two extremes: one leading to the impersonal uniformity of geometrical matrices artificially imposed upon nature; the other, involving isolated applications out of context, and a fragmentation of space. True, there was a choice between two elementary alternatives: an opening principle, which generated alleyways leading as far as the horizon, and an occlusion principle, which generated walls controlling the distance of the horizons. And it was possible to apply either principle absolutely, But this choice had nothing to do with the principles. The principles could be contained at will. Indeed, an unending combination of the principles was possible. For this reason, there was much more to Versailles than a single path to the horizon, and considerably more than walls to occlude views in great English gardens at Blenheim, Castle Howard, Stourhead and elsewhere. And thus gardiners, architects, artists and others very gradually realized that, while the laws of perspective were fixed, their applications were not. As they did so, they discovered that perspective was a new key to imagination and freedom, as will be seen in the final chapter.

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8. IMAGINATION AND FREEDOM 1. Introduction 2. Illusion and Metaphor 3. Theatre and Spectacle 4. Trompe l'Oeil 5. Old and New 6. Real and Imaginary 7. Literacy and Levels of Distance 8. New Functions of Art 9. Conclusions 1. Introduction Perspective brought with it a new kind of matching, which enabled a quantitative fit between representation and object. We have already shown that this was extremely important for the development of early modern science (see above 2.1). In the case of art, this was potentially disastrous, because it threatened to reduce a work of art to a mere copy, constraining the artist with instruments and construction lines. The reverse proved to be true. Perspective was an unprecedented stimulus the creativity, freedom and the imagination. By way of introduction we shall return to our earlier discussion (see above p. ) of Greek mimesis to suggest why this led to a negative concept of illusion, affected their concept of verbal metaphor and prompted goals of art in terms of a closed system. We shall then show how Renaissance perspective was fundamentally different: that it introduced positive dimensions to illusion, visual metaphor and new goals of art in terms of an open system. Links between Renaissance theatre, perspective and play will be explored us will problems of trompe l'oeil, old and new, real and imaginary. This will take use back to the theme of literacy and art and to outline further branches of matching and two new goals of art involving perspective which have emerged since the Renaissance. 2. Illusion and Metaphor In our earlier analysis of mimesis with respect to the visual arts (see above p. ), we identified five different meanings of the term. Each of these involved imitation in some form, yet none of them involved matching in our more technical sense of the term: i.e. none of them established a quantitative relationship between a painted representation and an object; none of them involved a concept of reversibility, whereby one could work backwards from a painted representation to reconstruct the original object. Because the Greeks made no distinction between mental visual image and actual (physical) visual image - as Kepler later did when he distinguished between imagines rerum and pictura rerum -, subjective and objective dimensions remained undifferentiated, which meant that there was no testable standard for the accuracy of an imitation. Indeed, although there was much verbal discussion about truth, there was no standard to establish visual truth. As a result, images could be rhetorically convincing, even illusionistically persuasive, but in each case the illusionism remained a trick, at once negative and deceptive, as Plato repeatedly insisted.

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It is instructive to examine the Greek concept of metaphor in this context. Aristotle tells us that the word, metaphorein, literally means to carry over, transfer.1 Yet it is striking that all his examples involve approximations: i.e. imitations, not matches. Ten thousand, he claims, is a metaphor for "the many."2 This is a connection or comparison which is likely, convincing even, but not one that is visually testable. As such Greek metaphor is like the illusion in Greek painting, based on a comparison for which a real fit or match is not possible. It is therefore the more significant that Aristotle himself speaks of likely impossibilities.3 Both Greek painting and verbal metaphor are universal likelihoods, not particular truths; universal imitations of space, not particular spaces; universal indications of chronology, not particular times; mythic, not historical. The famous dictum ut pictura poesis now emerges in a new light.4 Both poetry and painting were guided by rhetorical truth of words (universals) rather than the visual truth of pictures (individuals). Which is why Auerbach's claims about mimesis in literature5 have parallels in ancient paintings. In the absence of a true, visual standard, physical copies, sculptural duplicates, were as close as Myron and his contemporaries could come to a standard. Copying remained the highest to which art could attain. Literal identity or equivalence triumphed over metaphor. Sculpture dominated over painting,6 as it was better suited to a metaphysical system based on essence, emphasizing universals, totality, perfection; leading to a closed prescriptive system. Hence Aristotle wanted to limit poetry and painting: The poet being an imitator just like the painter or other maker of likenesses, he must necessarily in all instances represent things in one or other of three aspects, either as they were or are, or as they are said or thought to be or to have been, or as they ought to be.7 Note that Aristotle did not consider possible things as an alternative. Similarly, Vitruvius sought to limit painting to what is or what is possible.8 Ironically since an unclear imitation could never produce a clear match, both the Greeks and Romans were doomed to keep producing representations which were impossible when seen from a standard of visual truth. The Renaissance may well have been inspired by Antiquity, but perspective challenged it to go in fundamentally new directions. Perspective introduced a visual standard for checking quantitatively to what extent a match was involved between an individual object or context and its representation. Matches were now testable. If this transformed the nature of representation (see above p. ), it also transformed the nature of illusion. Giotto's illusionistic paintings of concealed chapels in the Scrovegni Chapel offer an early case in point. Unlike the impossible scenes of the Greek stage, this is possible architecture: a physical construction which could readily exist. So we check and discover that the chapels are not real architecture. The paintings thus make visual statements that something is, assuming we will know that it is not. As such they function as visual metaphors.

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Whereas Greek illusions were based on universal concepts, Renaissance illusions were based on particular elements: Giotto's chapel, Bramante's choir (pl. 5.4), Pozzo's cupola (pl. 73.1), each of which could be tested in terms of a one to one match. As a result, while Greek illusions were designed to deceive the eye, Renaissance illusions were planned for us to see through them, thus transforming the very concept of illusion from a negative trick to a positive game: challenging us to look more closely, to play with change in focus, scale, and framework (see above p. ); teaching us to expand our sense of what is and what is possible rather than trying to limit these as had Aristotle and Vitruvius. These links between perspective and visual metaphor deserve closer attention. The development of perspective involved ever closer matches between object and representation, resulting in more realistic representation, and an ever finer play on the distinction is - is not, which lies at the heart of visual metaphor. When perspective is at its best, the distinction is-is not is at its height. This intimate connection between the rise of perspective and visual metaphor is important for at least two reasons. First, it suggests that perspective transformed the very meaning of metaphor: from a general comparison without a specific match, to a particular comparison with a -potentially- specific match, from a verbal concept to a visual metaphor. Secondly, perspective changed its function. In Aristotle's scheme, metaphor remained an ornamental frill with respect to the structure of language, an extra of no real importance.9 Perspective implicitly made metaphor central to the whole aesthetic experience, for now the effect of a painting turned on how well it could play upon the distinction is - is not. In Padua, Giotto explored these problems in terms of painting (1304-1306). In Verona, a decade later Dante explored them in terms of language with respect to sculpture, when he wrote in his Divine Comedy (c. 1314) of the angel that: Appeared to us, with such a lively ease Carved, and so gracious there in act to move, It seemed not one of your dumb images, You'd swear an Ave from his lips breathed off, For she was shownthere too, who turned the key To unlock the treasure of the most high dove; And in her mien those words stood plain to see: Ecce ancilla Dei, stamped by art. Express as any seal on wax could be.10 Dante went on to describe pictured smoke,11 stories in stone narrated,12 complete with visible speech.13 We must at this point resist the temptation of a Dante commentary and only mention in passing that there are clearly parallels between these developments in literary narrative and those in pictorial narrative considered

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above (p. ). It is of interest that literary historians of the period have provided a more ample context for understanding Auerbach's concept of creatural realism arising out of the Judaeo-Christian biblical tradition. Indeed, they now speak of a development of perspective in literature: in terms of stories based on individuals in specific times and places, rather than eternal heroes in universal landscapes.14 We have seen pictorial parallels, as the townscapes of Florence and other towns entered into the backgrounds of paintings showing the lives of Christ and the saints (pp. , cf. pl. 13.1-4). It is important to note that the problem of visual metaphor, which plays on the is-is not distinction, involves both spatial and temporal dimensions. To continue with our Florentine example (pl. 13.2), at a spatial level the distinction plays on whether this is Florence or is not Florence (i.e. only a representation of Florence). The more difficult it is to make this spatial distinction, the more necessary it becomes to make a temporal one: i.e. the more we are convinced that this is actually Florence in the background, the more we have to insist that although this be a contemporary scene, the story in it is not. To put it differently, the more realistically we paint the space of a religious story, the more allegorically we need to see its contents if we are not to fall into crass anachronism. Use of visual metaphor in space thus leads to use of visual allegory in time. Two years after Giotto painted the Scrovegni Chapel (1304-1305) in Padua, Dante in his Convivio (1307), distinguished between literal and allegorical as well as moral and anagogical senses.15 Such parallels suggest new fields of study: exploring the extent to which the development of visual metaphor in painting went hand in hand with a growing importance of metaphor in language to a point where, in the United States, there is even discussion of metaphors we live by.16 These developments are so central to European civilization that they take us at once into many controversies which still rage. Here our role is not to take sides but simply to report on different viewpoints. The development in perspective, which led to visual metaphor and positive dimensions of illusion17 began in Italy and continued in France. In other countries they evoked very different responses. While we have stressed the interplay of North and South, differences between the two cannot be overlooked. The South tended to be more abstract and ideal, the North more concrete and realistic. Hence, in terms of art, Italy explored paintings with perspectival space, while a tradition in the North continued to explore sculpture with physical space. In terms of language, Italy was more interested in the spirit than the letter and thus welcomed metaphorical and allegorical interpretation. The North took words far more seriously, stressed the literal and worried about allegorical and metaphorical interpretations. In England, for example, there were two very different approaches to metaphor. One, based on the biblical tradition was positive. Hence, Bonner in his Homilies (1555) noted "that Chryste always in his speakynge dyd use figures, metaphors and tropes," while Addison (1712) referred to "those beautiful metaphors in Scripture where life is termed a pilgrimage." Another, more widespread tradition,

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approached metaphor as something negative. For instance, Wilson in his Rhetoric (1533) defined it as "an alteration of a woorde from the proper and natural meanynge to that which is not proper and natural thereunto, by some lykness that appeareth to be in it." A little over a century later the Earl of Moumouth (1560) was even less equivocal: "The Metaphora, which is so frequent with them...is it not an imposture?"18 This concrete, realistic strand of the North, which emphasized literalism over metaphor had profound consequences. It inspired a particular kind of dead pan humour epitomized by Till Eulenspiegel which laughed at itself for taking things so literally.19 But there were also less humourous consequences. One extreme form of this approach read sculptures and all visual images of God as idols, revived the iconoclastic tradition and wishing to exclude visual images from sacred matters altogether, sought to limit religion to words. The complex interplay between North and South inspired almost every region to develop their own solutions in these debates concerning the primacy of words over pictures or conversely. Luther's friend, Cranach, inadvertently pointed to the dilemmas of applying literalism to painting. Wishing to avoid painting a symbolic Last Supper, Cranach used Luther's portrait as his model for Christ and added Luther's friends as apostles in the Dessauer Altar. Similarly, in order to avoid allegorical or symbolic buildings in another religious painting, Cranach literally added the contemporary Wartburg in the background of his scene.20 We note that the Wartburg functions precisely as does Florence in the background in the Italian paintings considered earlier (p. ). Both are effectively visual metaphors. But, ironically, those in Northern culture, who tried to emphasize words to the exclusion of visual images, found themselves using literally when they meant metaphorically. Which may be why the North, which made such great efforts at literalism produced such unexpected volumes of allegory, emblems and other visual metaphorical expressions. The efforts of the Fruit Bearing Society come to mind. 3. Theatre and Spectacle In this context, it is not surprising that theatre, which took perspective's dimensions of metaphor and illusion to new limits, evoked two fundamentally different responses. The most extreme forms of the northern approach tried to ban theatre and indeed all art from human affairs. Hence, in England, twenty-two years after the first complete edition of Shakespeare, performances of his plays were forbidden. Visual images of the stage and painting were now held as false illusions in contrast to the truth of texts. So Shakespeare was read but not seen. Hence the dramatic visual imagery of plays intended for the stage embedded itself in the domain of words and language. A century later an extraordinary series of German readers, Lessing, Herder, Goethe, Tiecke and Schlegel saw the larger implications of this process when they found in Shakespeare's writings the origins of dramatic

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perspectivism,21 thus starting a visual trend in criticism which has led via Lubbock22 and Ortega y Gasset23 to Guillen24 and Weimann25 in our day. Meanwhile, the Puritan stand which suspected metaphor,26 read illusion as only negative, and sought to ban painting and theatre had enduring results. To this day expressions in English connected with the stage very often have a negative tone: e.g. He made a scene. He made a (big) Spiel. Don't make such a show. (German has an equivalent phrase: Mach kein Theater.) The very words theatrical and spectacle have something dubious about them because they are too strong, while the word play often has a suspicious ring far removed from the elevated connotations of homo ludens. Spectacular, is an interesting example of a word, which remained negative in England, later to become positive in North America, due largely to Hollywood. Even so, phrases such as Shakespeare's "all the world's a stage" reflect another tradition, which saw the positive side of illusion and was much more developed in Italy (cf. the meanings of spettacolo) and France (cf. spectacle),27 where mise en scene became a basic dimension of life. And it is this tradition which we shall examine more closely, keeping in mind that it was but one of a complex series of responses within Europe. Renaissance commentators interpreted Vitruvius' reference to scaenographia as perspective (see above p. ), and saw their own efforts as a revival of his ancient methods. Hence it is no coincidence that there are parallels between the engravings in Cesariano's Vitruvian commentary (1521) and Renaissance stage designs (cf. fig. 80.2 - 80.1, 81.1; fig. 82.1-8). Nor is it surprising that Barbaro, author of a treatise on perspective (1568), should have written a Vitruvian commentary (1556) with the ancient theatre reconstruction on which Palladio's Teatro Olimpico was based. Once again, however, it is necessary to stress the differences between GrecoRoman scene painting and the perspectival stage sets of the Renaissance. The ancient stage settings, as we have shown (above p. ) involved impossible images, buildings which could not exist in real architecture. By contrast, Renaissance stage sets were curious interplays between fiction and reality with the important difference that they could be real. Serlio, for instance, had a stage set which recalled St. Mark's Square in Venice (pl. 80.1), with the Tower of the Clocks in the background (pl. 80.3), and was the more interesting because it related to his later version of the comic scene in his second book on architecture (1544, 1545, etc.). Similarly, one of Peruzzi's drawings (pl. 81.1), recorded sights in Rome such as the Colisseum and the Castel San Angelo. Another of his drawings (pl. 81.2) showed the Pantheon and the Column of Trojan. Meanwhile, others such as Baldassare Lanci's scene (1569), now in the Uffizi, involved a playful combination of contemporary Florentine buildings notably the Palazzo Vecchio and the Duomo. Closer examination of these drawings for stage set reveals another important element: play with basic motifs, which could be real. The colonnaded arcade is an excellent example. Cesariano used it in his Vitruvian commentary (1521, pl. 80.2,

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82.1). Serlio used it (pl. 80.1), as did Peruzzi (81.1,82.2). Serlio then published this motif in the perspectival section of his book on architecture, a theme upon which Danti played in his treatise on perspective (1583, pl. 82.4-5). A stage design attributed to Donato Brumante (Florence, Uffizi, pl. 82.6), was closer to Serlio's version (pl. 82.3). Another stage design by Gozzoli (pl. 82.7) offered a variation on the theme. In painting practice, the Master of the Barberini Panels, in his Birth of the Virgin (New York, Metropolitan Museum, pl. 82.8) adapted the colonnaded arcade for his purpose. Meanwhile, Bellini in his Sketchbooks had explored variants of this theme for drawings of the Annunciation (pl. 83.1-2) which, bear comparison with Crivelli's later painting (London, National Gallery, pl. 83.3) and an intarsia version of the Annuncation by Fra Damiano da Bergamo (Birmingham, Museum and Art Gallery, pl. 83.4). Masolino had, of course, used such colonnaded arcades at Castiglione d'Olona. Many more examples of this theme could be cited and a full catalogue and a chronology thereof, would one day establish whether the uses of this motif went from painting to the stage, or conversely. What interests us here is how arcades were another of those basis spatial building blocks crucial for the development of perspective (see above p. ). For the examples we have cited (pl. 80-83), suggest how these building blocks could be combined in their component parts, much in the way children play with mini-bricks, meccano, and other toy sets in creating other, new structures. In other words, once there was a commitment to verisimilitude and visual metaphor, i.e. a visual standard of truth, elements which were potentially real followed as a consequence which could then be constructed and reconstructed in an open ended system. By contrast, Greek stage settings had relied on elements which were not architecturally valid, could not be recombined at will, and led to a closed system, as well as closed space. And whereas the Greeks produced scenes with impossible architectural spaces, mainly in the context of their tragedies, Renaissance stage designs became new explorations of possible spaces in the context of play, not only on stage but everywhere. The great debate about whether or not the Baltimore, Urbino (pl. 96.7) and Berlin panels represent stage settings is an expression of this ambiguity.28 For there was an extraordinary way in which play extended from the stage into everyday life, just as perspective extended from paintings and the stage into the environment. Hence triumphal arches were subjects for representation (eg. pl. 59.1-2), stage-sets, settings for triumphal entries acted as if in play, or later, even garden ornaments (pl. 99.1), as well as real objects. The rise of pageants and carnivals and a whole body of literature epitomized by Castiglione's Courtier contributed their part in making a life of acting, a metaphor for the act of life, Shakespeare's all the world's a stage, which had its Dutch equivalent with Vondel (De wereld als speel-toneel).29 By the eighteenth century, the interplay of scenography and architecture had led to remarkable imaginary stage sets, such as those in Bibiena's Architectures and perspectives (1740, pl. 79.2). To a Puritan eye these would be negative illusions in

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the worst sense. To French and Italian eyes, who knew how to see them as play, they were illusions in a positive sense, and it is not surprising, therefore, that the real quality of Bibiena's and Piranesi's fictive spaces inspired the fictive quality of real spaces such as Vanvitelli's Palazzo Reale at Caserta (pl. 79.1), and various palaces in Genoa, the dramatic staircases of which could be stage exits, as easily as entrances into private domains. Such examples reveal in new ways how the perspectival window principle did much more than link interior and exterior space: it made the two interdependent. If, as we have shown earlier (p. ), it extended pictorial space of interiors into exterior environments, it also extended theatrical space of interiors into exterior environments, thus making the is-is not distinction, which we have termed visual metaphor, a part of everyday life. Perspective was not just some handy trick for painters. It was a fundamentally new approach, which transformed western man's approaches to illusion and reality. 4. Trompe LOeil The spatializing functions of perspective which transformed paintings, walls, stage sets and even the environment, need to be seen in direct connection with the development of trompe l'oeil,30 which became another of the major expressions of illusion in its new, positive dimensions. And here linear perspective in turn became part of a larger context involving colour perspective, aerial perspective and chiaroscuro. Once again, Giotto's activities in the Cappella degli Scrovigni in Padua, bear witness to the early stages of these developments. In addition to his concealed chapels (see above p. ), there are fourteen allegories of virtues and vices on the side walls below the narrative series. These monochrome figures, set against the dark background of doors, which function partly as frames, were evidently experiments in creating relief. Beneath the figures of Justice and Injustice there are scenes where the frescoes are clearly representing three dimensional effects of sculpture.31 Indeed, when seen in context all the figures look as if they were dramatic trompe l'oeil sculptures rather than paintings, and Luzzatto has rightly praised the "statuesque quality" of Hope in particular.32 By the fifteenth century, the creation of relief for purposes of trompe l'oeil, had become an important goal in painting both in the North and the South. For example, Rogier van der Weyden and Van Eyck each pursued the challenge of using painting to create sculptural effects, as if the painted biblical figure were actually a statue (pl. 76.1-3), and as if a painted figure portrait were a living statue (pl. 76.4). In Italy, these ideas were taken up by Antonello da Messina, Bellini and Mantegna who, in the Camera degli Sposi painted busts of emperors on the ceiling as if they were sculptures, and in his monochrome works, simulated marble and stone as in his Samson and Delilah (London, National Gallery, 1495). His contemporary, Leonardo, made these effects of relief and chiaroscuro into the

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chief goals of painting.33 Positive illusions created through combinations of perspective and chiaroscuro now became fundamental to art. There were many combinations. Sometimes perspective was used as much in the frames as in the paintings (see above p. ). Frequently perspective was used for spatial effects inside the paintings while chiaroscuro served to extend these spatial effects in the frames and ancilliary areas. In Raphael's Stanze, we can witness the process evolving. In the Stanza della Segnatura (1509-1511), the area beneath the School of Athens has two figures painted with chiaroscuro as if they were sculptured caryatids. In the Stanza dell'Eliodoro (1551-1514) each wall has four such figures and various frames which look to be real architecture thanks to chiaroscuro. The ceilings have more complex interplays of painting, architecture, sculpture and ornament. Perspective and chiaroscuro now have a systematizing function, integrating different media such that a whole room functions as one spatial context evoking various positive dimensions of illusion. In Venice, the play of frames borrowed from contemporary architecture to produce a particular kind of scroll work known as the Sansovino type.34 In the latter half of the sixteenth century, these became the starting point for engravings of threedimensional cartouches (pl. 94.5) and other ornaments (pl. 94.6), which functioned as visual metaphors of sculpture. The authors of these books on cartouches, notably Cock and Vredeman de Vries, were also authors of treatises on perspective, in which these elements recurred as fancy borders (pl. 94.3), or as decorative motifs on wells (pl. 94.4). This latter case had physical equivalents in wells and fountains in town squares. Hence as these grotesque representations inspired new objects in physical space, play with spatial form affected spatial content. Such play with grotesques sometimes became an end in itself and indeed inspired Montaigne's literary style as we learn from the introductory paragraph of his essay On Friendship: As I was considering the way a painter I employ went about his work, I had a mind to imitate him. He chooses the best spot, the middle of each wall, to put a picture laboured over with all his skill, and the empty space all around it he fills with grotesques, which are fantastic paintings whose only charm lies in their variety and strangeness. And what are these things of mine, in truth, but grotesques and monstrous bodies, pieced together of diverse members, without definite shape, having no order, sequence, or proportion other than accidental?35 As art began to explore possible worlds systematically, literature began a similar journey into possible worlds, a theme which Bolzoni has recently studied in another context.36 The trompe l'oeil illusions of perspective and chiaroscuro thus led in two different directions. In the case of Vredeman de Vries, it led to a dispersal of effects among various media, engraving, painting, architecture, sculpture, etc., with elements from one being adapted elsewhere in unexpected contexts. Ortelius, for example, adapted these cartouches for the purpose of

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cartography.37 On the other hand, it led to a new integration of media and created systematic, united effects as in Raphael's Stanze. The Palazzo Borghese (pl. 77.1) was a further development of these integrating effects of perspective and chiaroscuro in transforming the entire context into a positive trompe l'oeil illusion. If we look up we see a real architectural vault, to which are added painted architectural features such as cornices and architectural features, perched on which are painted three-dimensional figures, which look like living statues. In the Palazzo Pitti (pl. 77.2) the situation is at least as complex. Effects of perspective and chiaroscuro are now inseparable in creating such compelling effects of relief that architecture, painting and sculpture combine in a single integrated illusion. Are the supporting figures, the atlantes, sculptured or painted? Which balconies belong to architectural space and which belong to painted space? Which parts are physical, architectural room and which are painted room? Here the is-is not distinction of visual metaphor has been taken to such a level that the game is worth playing for its own sake. Mannerism was tempted in this direction.38 The baroque turned temptation into a challenge and made art for illusion's sake, which is a deeper reason why it tended toward form without content (see above p. , pl. 72-73), and why, inevitably, reactions such as neoclassicism and romanticism set in to bring content back into focus. If we interpret such reactions as proof that the baroque was somehow an hiatus, an intermission in the serious play of art, we overlook the deeper significance of the positive illusions of trompe-l'oeil introduced by perspective and chiaroscuro. For the breaking down of oppositions between form and content was part of a larger pattern of removing what had seemed key oppositions between old and new, real and imaginary, leading out from a prescriptive closed system of Antiquity to a descriptive open vision of art. 5. Old and New We have already noted that those who studied Roman ruins in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries were also leading architects (see above p. ). It is not surprising, therefore, that techniques of visualization developed with respect to these old buildings, were applied equally to new ones, as was the case with architectural cross-sections (pl. 84.1-3). Donato Bramante developed these methods in terms of both ruins (pl. 84.4), and churches (pl. 84.5) with a result that his cut-away of a new church looked more like an ancient ruin than a modern edifice. Serlio's books on architecture codified this tradition and included hundreds of ancient and modern buildings together as ground-plans, elevations, interiors in section (pl. 84.1), as well as details of architectural elements. Although weak in theoretical principles, Serlio greatly increased the repertoire of forms. Hence, whereas Piero della Francesca had drawn only one archway in his treatise on perspective (pl. 7.3), Serlio provided six (e.g. pl. 7.4), thus illustrating the variation possible on a given theme. And while many of Serlio's drawings represented real

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buildings, some were architect's conceptions of possible constructions. Hence there was an interplay between old and new in two senses. Nor was he alone in this. Almost from the outset, the study of ruins had involved imaginative interpretation, leading both to new ruins and new buildings. Mantegna's ruins, put in the context of contemporary houses, in the background of his Saint Sebastian (Paris, Louvre, pl. 86.1), were a case in point. Jacques Androuet Du Cerceau took this approach considerably further. Many of his ruins were idealized interpretations of ancient buildings. Occasionally we can trace how a motif such as two broken arches at the entrance to a barrel vault in one drawing (pl. 86.2) was developed elsewhere (pl. 86.3), or how the motif of such a vault framing a gateway recurred in another engraving (pl. 86.4). In this and other collections of his engravings a play element is evident: slight variations of elements produce a series of different structures. This process of creative archeology becomes the more fascinating when we learn from one of his titles that Androuet Du Cerceau did so consciously when he referred to: "twenty five arches partly invented by me and partly taken from monuments both in Rome and elsewhere as well as now existing as the inscription to each arch indicates."39 A generation later, Vincenzo Scamozzi, was even more articulate about this process in his Discourses on antiquity (1582): It may be that this plate was drawn from some antique thing and that I do not remember having seen it, but it is much more likely that it was made as a fine capriccio, since the only person who would not tire in drawing every ancient object precisely, would be he who does not know how to make any beautiful invention [of his own].40 Such statements provide a valuable context for understanding Vredeman de Vries,41 who took this principle of idealizing ruins further to create modern versions of ancient cities (pl. 87.1-2), inspiring the idealized cities of Steenwyck (pl. 87.3) and Van Delen. Hence study of ancient ruins involved creative play with basic architectural forms, which inspired new early modern buildings. The engravings of Vredeman de Vries were integrated by his student Marolois, as part of a larger corpus which included a series by Stevens. Here we find Roman ruins such as the baths of Antonine (pl. 85.1), as well as his version of Emmaus (pl. 85.2), the place where Christ dined shortly after he rose from the dead. It does not require the world expert in middle eastern architecture for the year 33 A.D. to recognize that this restaurant has experienced certained archaeological liberties. Indeed, we can safely leave to such an expert a full analysis of anachronistic details in this Chenonceaux of the North stationed in the Holy Land. What concerns us is that even if the Israelites did not build such an Emmaus, even if it was historically infeasible, it was architecturally possible. The same principles used to represent ruins, helped to visualize structures for which no archaeological model existed. If the perspectival principle of visual metaphor introduced a

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standard whereby the visual truth of image could be tested, it also inspired a whole genre of images which failed the test, and yet were fully valid spatially. Study of the past thus became a creative enterprise, as is well illustrated by the roof-top decorations in one of Vredeman de Vries' engravings (pl. 87.1). At first sight we are likely to dismiss these as imaginary while accepting them as spatially coherent. A closer look (pl. 94.1), and comparison with the facade of the Armoury at Wolfenbttel, built a few decades after his sorjourn there (pl. 94.2), reveals how ruins and interpretations of ancient buildings provided a vocabulary for mannerist architectural forms. Vredeman de Vries' perspectival engravings of wells (pl. 94.4) and caryatids (pl. 94.6), mentioned earlier, added to this vocabulary. This process continued into the baroque period when Scamozzi's term capriccio became indicative of a whole genre of paintings,42 including playful combinations of real buildings, as epitomized by Panizzi, and fully imaginary constructions as in the case of Desiderio di Monsu. Old and new, imaginary and real were now combined in creating new structures, and if perspective removed the opposition between old and new, it did the same in the case of real and imaginary. 6. Real and Imaginary Here again we find a distinction between Antiquity and the Renaissance. For as we have shown, Vitruvius' description of ancient scenography involved imaginary spaces, which had no physical counterparts, and in this sense, were opposed to reality. Plato saw the opposition of real-imaginary in other terms but the effect was the same. Renaissance perspective changed this. Brunelleschi's experiments involved the rerpesentation of an actual building, the Baptistery in Florence. But the result was hardly an opposition between real-imaginary. Indeed, Brunelleschi's decision to have the real sky mirrored in the upper portion of his picture increased the ambiguity between real and imaginary, or to return to our earlier phrase, it sharpened the is-is not distinction of visual metaphor. The opposition between real-ideal also faded, for a fascination with idealized buildings, which had grown out of a study of ancient ruins, led to interaction among various kinds of images, including records of real ruins as they were imagined to have been, architect's conceptions of possible buildings, real contemporary buildings, reconstructions thereof in books of ancient ruins, and imaginative versions of historical and legendary buildings, as is illustrated by the case of a round temple surrounded with columns. Francesco di Giorgio Martini included at least two ancient examples of such a building in his sketchbooks: a temple near the theatre of Pompeo in Siena (pl. 96.1), and the temple of Vesta. Leonardo da Vinci used such a round temple in his design for a mausoleum (pl. 96.2). The form recurred as the central building in the famous Urbino panel (pl. 96.3). Bramante constructed such a temple: San Pietro in Montorio, the so-called Tempietto (pl. 96.4), which reappeared in modified form as an engraving among

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Androuet Du Cerceau's ancient ruins (pl. 96.5), in a treatise where it became a close relative of a Temple of Jupiter (pl. 97.1), a pagan edifice which had its Christian equivalent in a temple in the background of Raphael's Marriage of the Virgin (Milan, Brera, pl. 97.2). A complex interplay of architecture, drawing, engraving, and painting thus transformed art into a vocabulary of images in different media pre- and representing possible realities and possible extensions of reality. These interplays between old and new, real and imaginary, help us to understand unexpected parallels between a building which Androuet Du Cerceau associated with Troy (pl. 97.3) and Bramante's plan for the new St. Peter's (pl. 97.4); or between Androuet Du Cerceau's imaginary Roman architecture (pl. 97.6) and the Palazzo del Te in Mantua (pl. 97.5). More complex interplays between real, represented and theatrical space ensued. In the case of the Uffizi (pl. 95.1), Vasari used a parallel arrangement of the galleries to create its perspectival effects, with the arcade at the end functioning as a window to reopen the space and to frame new views. His son used the same principle in his treatise on perspective (pl. 95.4), and it became almost a convention in seventeenth century stage sets (pl. 95.3). The framing device of the arcade functioned equally well when looked at from the Arno side, as is illustrated by an eighteenth century engraving, in which the galleries, with the Palazzo Vecchio and Piazza di Signoria in the background, look like a stage set (pl. 95.2), a possibility which Baldassare Lanci had put in practice in his perspectival scenery for Cini's The Widow (1569). In other words, architectural space which had been reconstructed consciously lent itself to being represented perspectivally and invited life therein to be re-enacted theatrically. These effects were augmented by links between intervention and representation: adding automatons to create special natural effects. Such treatment of nature as artifice made it apt for both theatrical play and artistic representation. Bernardo Buontalenti and Alfonso Parigi, who completed the Uffizi, were both active in stage design, and this same Buontalenti (cf. above p. ), was active in creating the Boboli gardens behind the Pitti palace, with their amazing grottoes, a word which may well be linked etymologically with grotesques. Buontalenti's student, Salomon de Caus, developed these principles (pl. 98.1) to a point where nature and artifice became one, where grottoes became stage sets, which lent themselves to perspectival representation, where wild animals were tame stuffings, where forces of water were transformed into dramatic fountains on a stage within a stage, artifically thrown into relief by controlled, natural light.43 If nature with artifice created new stage settings (pl. 98.1), painted stage-settings (pl. 98.2), and painted representations (pl. 98.3), extended natural artifice to create plays of reality in various senses. It was this context which inspired the trompe l'oeil facade at the home of the Marquis de Dangeau in Paris44 and the trompe l'oeil arch at Rueil (pl. 99.1), where the garden was real and only the arch was painted. The same context inspired Bibiena, in his stage settings to paint both garden and architecture perspectivally (pl. 99.2). As a result real and imaginary,

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everyday act and theatrical re-enactment could and often did become one, which inspired as many sources of delight in Italy, France and isolated courts, as it posed serious threats in other parts of Europe, where perspective, metaphor and illusion remained a negative trinity. It is possible to identify at least four stages in these developments from 1300-1700: imaginary extension of real, imaginary play with real, imaginary, and real extension of imaginary. If Giotto's concealed chapels in Padua were a forerunner of the first stage, some of the most important examples thereof occurred in the late fifteenth century: Mantegna's oculus, the illusionistic round opening on the ceiling of the Camera degli 'Sposi (pl. 70.2), Bramante's choir in Santa Maria presso San Satiro (pl. 5.4), Leonardo's Last Supper and Pietro Lombardo's facade in Venice (pl. 5.3). Our examples of the second stage, imaginary play with the real, have included stage sets of Serlio und Peruzzi (pl. 80.1, 81.1), paintings of Mantegna (pl. 86.1), and early ruins of Androuet Du Cerceau (pl. 86.2). This stage, where play is implicit, is distinguished from a third stage where play continues, but the distinction between imaginary and real is either explicit, as in the later ruins of Androuet Du Cerceau (pl. 86.3-4) and Scamozzi, or taken to such extremes, that it is apparent as with Stevens (pl. 85.2) and Steenwyck (pl. 85.3). The fourth stage, real extension of imaginary, involves direct intervention in nature, and includes Michelangelo's Campidoglio (pl. 88.2), Bernini's Scala Regia, Borromini's Palazzo Spada (pl. 5.5) and Le Nostre's Versailles (pl. 93.1). Examination of fig. 44, which summarizes these developments, reveals that, in the first stage, effects of trompe l'oeil, illusion and visual metaphor, involve either interiors (first four examples) or exteriors (fifth example). By the fourth stage, these examples initially involve exteriors, and later, in the Palazzo Spada and Versailles, involve such an interplay between exteriors and interiors spaces that the opposition no longer applies. DATE IMAGINARY IMAGINARY IMAGINARY REAL EXTENSION PLAY IMAGINARY EXTENSION OF OF REAL WITH REAL IMAGINARY 1300-1349 Giotto 1400-1450 1450-1499 Mantegna Bramante Leonardo P.Lombardo 1500-1549 Serlio Michelangelo Peruzzi 1550-1599 Androuet Androuet Vignola

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Vredeman Scamozzi 1600-1649 Steenwyck Stevens 1650-1700 Borromini Le Nostre Fig. 44. Shifts in the role of the imagination in early modern art and architecture. On the surface, as these oppositions disappeared, distinctions between terms such as interior-exterior, subject-object, real-imaginary became blurred, which accounts for apprehensions of the North. Yet at another level, they gained new meaning, because the matching mechanism of perspective created ever subtler visual metaphors, i.e. finer distinctions between is-is not by means of a visual standard of truth. Hence the closer they come to seeming to blur, the more subtly we learn to see their differences, or as the North would say, tell them apart. Thus perspective, which literally involves seeing through (per-spicio), also teaches us to see through the illusions it creates. In Antiquity, when optical adjustments methods produced illusions to deceive the eye, Plato understandably railed against these methods of representation, which separated appearances from reality. In the Renaissance, when perspective created illusions to instruct the eye in seeing beyond deception, illusion was transformed into a positive force in cultural development. Something much deeper than getting beyond deception was also involved. For the matching mechanisms of perspective inspired an interplay of art and science unique to the west. The artist engineers of the Renaissance, epitomized by Leonardo da Vinci, were an early manifestation. In the eighteenth century it led Lambert, who studied Leonardo closely, to write On the photometric part of the art of the painter (1768),45 in which he attempted to analyse scientifically, in quantitative terms, differences between images in paintings, mirrors, and camera obscuras -the theme of instruments once more. In the nineteenth century, this tradition led scientists such as Helmholtz46 and Brcke47 to study painting, and convinced Fechner48 that one could quantify aesthetics, a temptation that still lingers at M.I.T. Ironically, although our universities have faculties of arts and sciences, the history of what brought art and science into their unique western relationship has not yet been studied in detail. 7. Literacy and Levels of Aesthetic Distance As for the cultural dimensions, we understand these more clearly when the development of art as visual metaphor is seen in relation to literacy and levels of aesthetic distance. In primitive societies, when connecting was the goal of art (see

Bernini

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above p. and fig. ), and there were no texts, a statue was a god. It presented rather than represented, such that art asserted the equivalence of god and image. In Greco-Roman culture, as imitation became a goal of art, and as isolated manuscripts recorded the names, characteristics and deeds of the gods, the function of statues changed from presentation to representation, such that what had functioned as equivalents, now functioned as substitutes of the original. As the use of texts spread from descriptions of divinity to include learned interpretations thereof, the thinker Euhemerus suggested that statues and paintings represented men as if they were gods. This theory of Euhemerism, named after him, thus introduced a new level of distance between original and image.49 The rise of Christianity, with its focus on the Bible, meant that the images in this text could be cited or even be alluded to indirectly.50 A statue of a painting could now represent a but mean b: it could, for example, show a good shepherd and mean Christ. Symbolism thus introduced a further level of distance between original and image. The development of textual communities51 led to refinement of these principles in the form, as we have seen, of Dante's distinction between four levels of interpretation: literal, allegorical, moral and anagogical (see above p. ). The advent of printing expanded the range of books common to textual communities, and what had begun as parallels between Old and New Testaments, were extended to relate pagan and Christian themes, as in the Sistine Ceiling and the Stanze. The spread of printing went hand in hand with more subtle levels of literary and visual interpretation. Mediaeval symbolism had involved representing a while meaning b (the good shepherd meaning Christ), with the assumption that one believed in the reality of both a and b. The Renaissance introduced a play element into this formula: a painting now represented a in the guise of a1 without requiring that one actually believed in a1. Honthorst's painting of the Princess of Orange as Diana (Utrecht, Centraal Museum, 1643), offers a case in point. At one level, it is a portrait of Louise Henriette of Nassau, Princess of Orange. At another level we recognize the dogs, bow and arrows as attributes of Diana, through literary culture. So we see the princess playing the part of Diana without needing to believe literally in the pagan goddess or her powers. The increasing tendency to push topics into the backgrounds of landscapes in the seventeenth century, as in the case of Claude considered above (p. ), increased distance in two senses. When subsequent mythological figures stayed in the foreground, the play element was frequently extended to their attributes to indicate that one was not expected to believe in them, as in Boucher's Venus, Mercury and Amor (Berlin, Schloss Charlottenburg, 1742). We recognize the man as Mercury by his winged feet. But the wings have been tied on with a ribbon, to help us see through his guise, and to leave no doubt that this is a Frenchman playing the part of a god. Sir Peter Lely went further still in his Nell Gwynn and the Duke of St. Alban's as Venus and Cupid (Chiddingstone Castle), where he relied on the topos of a reclining female nude with standing child without attributes to indicate Venus

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and Cupid, and by making these figures portraits of two well known and notorious personalities, he transformed a purportedly classical scene into a social statement about a contemporary relationship. These developments are summarized in fig. 45. DATE -1000 1000-200 B.C. . 200-300 300-1200 1200-1450 PROCESS TERM statue equals god equivalence statue represents god substitution statue,painting represents euhemerism man as if god statue,painting represents symbolism a but means b painting represents a and means a literal O.T. and means N.T. allegorical Christ's actions in relation to man moral Christ's actions in relation to. Eternity anagogical painting represents a in guise of a1 ---painting represents a in playful guise of a1 ----

1450-1560 1650-1800

Fig. 45. Links between art and levels of abstraction. Since then there have been many further developments: Salvador Dali's treatment of Millet's Angelus comes to mind.52 However, a detailed map of all these levels of distance is not our concern here. We are interested rather in pointing to the larger context of perspective: that there were important connections between literacy, more complex uses of space, and more subtle levels of interpretation; that perspective, which on the surface involved literal realism, played an important role in associating art with levels beyond the literal. Perspective and symbolism went hand in hand. Perspectival realism made it possible, for instance, to represent Roman soldiers in Turkish costumes in Renaissance versions of the Crucifixion, such that this scene reflected both an historical event and contemporary religious problems. Instead of pinning the image down, perspective made it polyvalent, and if it made serious matching possible, perspective also introduced playful matching. Hence instead of dooming art to a closed system of copying, perspective transformed it into a creative act, open to new themes and new goals. 8. New Functions of Art Thus far we have considered four goals of art: connecting, ordering, imitating and matching, and with respect to the latter have focussed on matching the visual world illustrating implicit common verbal sources, such as the Bible, which were so well known that knowledge of their stories could be taken for granted. Perspective had its greatest impact in visualizing such texts. Nonetheless, there were no less than nine other types of matching and two other goals of art, mixing and exploring, which require brief mention, even if detailed consideration thereof is beyond the scope of this introduction.

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Matching The most obvious type of matching, involving a simple record of the visual world, was implicit in Brunelleschi's first experiment involving the Baptistery. It became more common, as use of the window principle was extended from individual objects to views of towns and landscapes (pl. 58.1-2). Perhaps because it was so obvious, this type of art remained of less interest to art than the military until the advent of the camera, which effectively mechanized the perspectival window principle, awakened new interest in its creative potential.53 Matching could also involve illustrating a text directly, an approach which was applied to the Bible, classical authors such as Ovid, mediaeval literature such as Boccacio (pl. 78.2) cited earlier, and chronicles such as Froissart (e.g. B.M. Harley 4380, fol. 23b). Thirdly, matching was used to illustrate recurring events, particularly the four seasons and topoi, which could be based on classical sources, such as the three graces, or be of a more general character: old age, the fool, the land of cockaigne etc. In some cases, matching involved an implicit verbal source, which was either so uncommon that most persons would not recognize it, (or alternatively so common that everyone at the time took its meaning for granted and we in retrospect find it mysterious). Three famous examples immediately come to mind: Botticelli's Primavera,54 Giorgione's Tempest55 and Bronzino's Allegory56 (London, National Gallery). In other cases, matching involved well known verbal sources, which remained difficult to recognize because the scene was set as a part of every day life or in the background of a landscape. In early examples, such as Carpaccio's Calling of St. Matthew (Venice, Scuola di San Giorgio degli Schiavoni, 1525-1526), where Matthew was shown simply as a tax-collector, the surrounding pictures provided a context for understanding its meaning. In Caravaggio's treatment of the same theme (Rome, San Luigi dei Francesi, Contarelli Chapel, 1597-1598), only a ray of light revealed that this was a sacred rather than a secular scene. By the time of Tenier's Seven acts of mercy (Dulwich, Picture Gallery), we need to recognize that passing a loaf of bread is a visual metaphor for feeding the poor. We need even more discerning to recognize classical scenes set in the context of landscapes, as in the Claude mentioned above (pl. ). The twentieth century has shown a fascination for treating the matching function in a playful and/or ironic manner, as, for instance, in Magritte's Treachery of Images (New York, Private Collection, 1928-1929), which shows a meticulously painted briar pipe with the caption: This is not a pipe. Magritte's Promenades of Euclid (Minneapolis, Institute of Arts, 1955), offers a more subtle example by demonstrating how a flat road going into the distance and a three dimensional tower both project triangular shapes on a perspectival window. Some of Escher's work might also be mentioned in this context, although he is more complex in that

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he has different perspectival viewpoints for separate parts of a picture, which are then carefully integrated to function as a single context (e.g. pl. 73.4). There have, in fact, been a number of movements which have played with the matching principle mainly by overemphasizing certain aspects of reality, including the Precisionists, (e.g. Charles Demuth, Ralston Crawford); Pop Art (Richard Hamilton, Edward Ruscke); New Realism (Mel Ramos) and Photo Realism (Richard Ester, Ralph Goings, Chuck Close).57 In all of these movements, perspective continues to play a central role. The revival of interest in trompe l'oeil is another manifestation of this play with matching principles as, for instance, at the American embassy in Paris (pl. 100 ). Here the oblique walls are carefully painted illusions, with doors that reveal clouds beyond. The left wall, itself a trompe l'oeil, opens into a trompe l'oeil of the second degree, showing a colonnaded arcade. In front of this stands a trompe l'oeil officer representing a country which until recently had a former actor as its president. Anamorphosis was an unlikely form of matching, which involved distorting shapes in such a way that, when seen from a specific viewpoint, their original form returned. This alternative, developed by Piero della Francesca, received particular attention in the seventeenth century (see above p. ), and was then ignored until an historical study by Baltrusaitis (1956) inspired new interest therein.58 Meanwhile, the twentieth century has introduced another kind of matching involving distortions: it abandons a rigid geometry of straight lines, involves a simplification of spatial features, yet nonetheless remains committed to representing familiar objects in every day life. Sometimes, as in Henri Matisse's painting of A Girl Reading (Edinburgh, Scottish National Gallery of Modern Art, 1919), the results are close to those of parallel perspective. At other times the departure from Renaissance perspective is striking: as in Picasso's Woman Reading (Paris, Muses Nationaux, 1935). The twentieth century has introduced yet another type of matching involving occlusion. Renaissance painting had concentrated on the opening function of perspective, treating the picture as a window into a world beyond. By contrast, the occluding function concentrates attention on the picture as a surface. The opening function had led painting to match architectural and sculptural effects. Yet, even when painting created effects indistinguishable from those of architecture and sculpture, it ironically upheld an underlying assumption that the three media were distinct from one another. The occluding function of perspective, which emphasized painting as surface, meant that painting was no longer a medium which could match the effects of the other two, such that painting, architecture and sculpture now emerged as equals, and what had been a focus on pictorial space, shifted to a new interplay of pictorial with physical sculptural and architectural space. One reflection of this basic change in orientation was a trend of important painters, who also practiced sculpture: including Daumier, Gauguin, Degas, Renoir, Bonnard, Picasso, Matisse, Modigliano, Braque, Derain and Leger.59

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Aspects of cubism were also linked with this change in orientation, which emphasized occlusion rather than transparency, and which relied on perspective more than might be expected. Gleizes, for example, in his basic work On Cubism (1921) retained respect for perspective: In the beginning the framework created the perspectival principles was robust, but it was reversed by the follies of realism, and it was impressionism which threw itself hopelessly into atmospheric inconsistencies.60 In his chapter on realism Gleizes admitted: If an artist whose specialty is in painting still life academically suddenly renounced all his favourite subjects for subjects composed of bricks, cylinders, and boards he would paint them with optical perspective and conventional lighting. Many cubist paintings are simply a product of this substitution.61 Fernand Lger's Nudes in the Forest (Otterlo, Krller-Mller Museum, 1909-1910) comes to mind. Gleize's aim, however, was to reduce painting to two-dimensional surfaces To pretend to endow it with a third dimension is to wish to denaturalize it in its own essence. The results obtained will become only the trompe l'oeil of our threedimensional material reality, through the deceptions of linear perspective and conventions of lighting.62 Mixing Ultimately, Gleizes wanted to escape matching. The result was a new goal for painting. As he wrote in his manifesto: Painting therefore is not an imitation of objects. The reality of the exterior world serves as its point of departure. But it strips away the world of this reality to touch upon the spirit.63 Hence the trend in matching, which focussed on the surface of painting, led to a new goal within cubism, which involved mixing visual and mental world. While this re-opened the way for non-perspectival paintings, it also produced complex new combinations of perspective. Three examples must suffice here. In Juan Gris', La Place Ravignan. Still Life in Front of an Open Window (Philadelphia, Museum of Art, 1915), the still life in the foreground was composed of a series of intersecting planes, partly transparent, partly roccluding. In the background, both wall and window were transparent. Hence the perspectival principles of transparency and occlusion became a matter of play, while its spatial effects continued to be important. Robert Delaunay, in his St. Severin (New York,

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Guggenheim Museum, 1909), went back to the Renaissance theme of Church interiors (e.g. pl. 8, 10, 16-20), introducing into the straight lines of the architecture subjective curvatures. By contrast, Jacques Villon, in Abstraction (Philadelphia, Museum of Art, 1932), used a room with very sharply defined perspectival lines as in a Renaissance interior, but then removed details and played with colour to create unexpected effects. Other movements in modern art, which shared this goal of mixing outer and inner worlds, led to further experiments with perspective: constructivism (Kasimir Malevich, El Lissitzky, Josef Alpers);64 surrealism (Max Ernst, Yves Tanguy, Salvador Dali),65 neo-romanticism (Eugene Berman) and magic-realism (Pierre Roy, Paul Delvaux).66 Implicit verbal sources remained important. It would, for example, be difficult to understand the symbolism of Salvador Dali or Paul Delvaux without some biographical context. But a new dilemma now loomed. For the more these paintings entered into the inner life of the individuals concerned and became personal expressions, the more they required autobiographical knowledge, which could not be expected of a general public. In the Renaissance, the emergence of universally known texts such as the Bible had led to visualizations of implicit verbal sources becoming more important than direct illustrations of texts. In the twentieth century, as the concept of such universally known texts receded, a reversion occurred: direct illustrations of verbal sources once again became more important than visualizations of implicit verbal sources, whence the extraordinary rise of a whole new genre of deluxe art books (Les livres d'art, Malerbcher) which involved most major artists of the twentieth century ranging from Braque and Eluard to Hockney.67 Picasso alone produced over 150 of such books.68 This renewed concern with a verbal filter detracted attention from perspectival visualization. Exploring Meanwhile, another new goal involved exploring three further horizons of arts: chance, the inner world and the perceptual world. The first of these, emphasizing intuition, and relying largely on accidental actions and chance patterns, involved abstract expressionism (Hans Hofmann, Sebastian Antonio Matta Echauren, Willem de Kooning, Jackson Pollack).69 The second of these explored the inner world: phantasy and the irrational. In the nineteenth century, romanticism had led to the creation of dream worlds (Gustave Moreau, Rodolphe Bresden, Odilon Redon).70 These continued into the twentieth century with the naive painters (Henri Rousseau),71 and the metaphysical school (notably Giorgio di Chirico),72 which led to further explorations into the irrational through dadaism,73 surrealism74 and conceptualism.75 Striking is the extent to which these inner visions emphasize perspectival space. Even in the art of mentally disturbed persons, despite distortions, a basic spatial pattern is usually still recognizable and sometimes has a compelling coherence of its own (e.g. William Kurelek).76

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A third area of exploring has involved the perceptual world. It could be argued that this was effectively an extension of the detailed attention to visual effects initiated by the impressionists. In Antonio Lopez Garcia's drawing of Antonio Lopez Torres (London, Marlborough Fine Arts Ltd., 1971-1973), for example, which Arnason77 cites simply as part of the revival of representational painting in the 1970's, we note curvilinear effects on the floor reminiscent of those found in Cezanne78 and Van Gogh.79 Inspired by nineteenth and twentieth century optical theorists (Helmholtz, Hillebrand, Ames, Luneburg),80 a number of painters (see above p. ) have claimed that spherical perspective more closely approximates the effects of vision than does linear perspective. In the nineteenth century, thinkers such as Hauck had considered spherical projections as subjective perspective.81 Panofsky followed this approach.82 However, recent thinkers such as Barre and Flocon or Hansen claim83 that spherical projections exemplify objective perspective. In terms of strictly scientific principles of vision, the most succinct challenge to these views remains Pirenne,84 whose work also poses problems for Termes' experiments85 with one, two, three, four, five, and six point perspective (fig. ), or Blotti's explorations86 of alternative projection methods (figs. ). To enter into great polemics as to who is right, would be to assume that both sides are concerned with the same thing, which they are not. Impressionists such as Pirenne's father, and Pirenne himself, were concerned with information available to one eye, from a given station point, at a given time and place. These contemporary artists, by contrast, would argue that no single viewpoint does justice to the complexities of visual experience and that the challenge lies, therefore, in incorporating, combining, integrating different viewpoints simultaneously in achieving panoramic effects, such as we experience when we walk around in every day life. Certainly no eye from a single viewpoint could see all the images on the 360o spherical surfaces of Albert Flocon's Tableau spherique (Paris, Grand Palais) or of Dick Termes' Termespheres. Yet a painting, which does not stop with the artificial boundaries of a frame and which continues to unfold as we walk around it, comes closer, they would argue, to our experience of the visual environment of every day life. This quest to incorporate various viewpoints simultaneously has led artists such as Lucien Day to renew interest in cylindrical projection planes, not as a rejection of linear perspective, but rather as an attempt to go beyond its limitations. In Day's own words: My work is an attempt to incorporate more than one angle of vision in a picture plane. I want to expand the means of academic perspective to include more of what we see and how we see it.... Working with a camera, I am able to freeze these changed peripheral elements and use them as part of the picture. Instead of a fixed viewing eye, which is the basis of academic perspective, I make two angles of vision work together.87

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As Marcia Clark has demonstrated in an important exhibition, Day's concerns are part of a new trend which includes Susan Crile's multiple perspectives, and Clark's own conbination paintings in which, as she explains: Though the painting is seen in three parts these connect in the mind's eye. Both the shifting perspectives and the serial nature of the painting bring a dimension of time into the visual experience. Within this, a process of discovery can unfold, reflecting not only the view but also the experience of seeing.88 In the context of our analysis three aspects of this trend are of particular interest. One is how artists such as Clark, Crile and Lima consciously speak of their work as metaphor.89 Second, is the way in which artists such as David Hockney, David McGlynn and Richard McKown use photography, with its objective perspectivalimages, as a starting point for their subjective explorations of perceptual spaces.90 Whereas an earlier generation would have perceived oppositions between art and science, subjective and objective methods, this generation is exploring how they can be integrated in new ways. Related to this is a third phenomenon: for the quest to integrate different spaces has focussed attention on the challenge of relating different times. Clark referred to this in the passage cited above. Hockney has drawn attention to it: It's a different time in each square and as I went I found, suddenly at times, incredible spatial effects happening, which made one realize that time was deeply related to space - maybe they were the same thing - and immediately I noticed its connection with cubism.91 McKown has been even more conscious of this process: ...each image in my work starts out as a separate exposure in the camera. I want the viewer to experience the time element by looking at the individual images before looking out at the illusion of the whole composition.... I'm working with the aspects of cubism. However, by my use of photography, there is a reference to reality that pulls the image into a whole instead of fragments, so that the concept of time is slowed down and expanded.92 In emphasizing such temporal-spatial problems, these painters were, in a sense, pursuing themes which Carpaccio had explored nearly five centuries earlier (see above p. ) and demonstrating in a new way the limitations of Lessing's aesthetics, which opposed painting and poetry in terms of space and time. Indeed, it could be argued that the full implications of perspective for temporal-spatial dimensions of painting are only now coming into focus. In moving from pre-literate to literate society, imitating replaced connecting as a goal. What is striking about these recent developments, however, is that they have not replaced existing goals such that ordering, matching, mixing and exploring,

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with their various subcategories: all exist together. At a certain level, evolution is embracing, not replacing. The full significance of this phenomenon has yet to be assessed. It is instructive to recall, for instance, that just over a half century ago Novotny wrote an influential work entitled, Cezanne and the end of scientific perspective (1938).93 He was by no means alone. Many of his contemporaries were fully convinced that exploring chance and abstraction had become the only goal of modern art, and even today, some scholars still assume artistic progress occurred in terms of one goal at a time.94 In these minds, art history since 1500 could be reduced to a simple story of how artists gradually rejected perspectival principles, and the twentieth century became a final chapter in a move from perceptual to conceptual art.95 Our all two brief outline has shown a rather different story. For if perspective was rejected by those exploring chance and abstraction, it has proved essential in exploring both the perceptual world and the inner world (naive and metaphysical art), in new goals of mixing outer and inner world (cubism, constructivism, surrealism, neo-romanticism and magic realism) and new branches of matching (precisionism, pop art, new realism, photo realism, hyper realism). All of which helps to explain the pattern of publication revealed in fig. 47: 1400-1499 1500-1599 1600-1699 1700-1799 1800-1899 1900-1989 1 456 732 849 2714 2801

Fig. 47. Books on perspective printed since 1400. Perspective did not die: it did not even experience a serious decline. Since 1500 its story has been one of continuous development. What began as a mechanical means of recording the outer world objectively in quantitative terms, has become a fundamental method for exploring the inner world with its subjective dimensions. Perspective has led the west to create more images than any other culture. In the process it has given us a concept of visual metaphor, leading to ever subtler plays on is-is not, teaching us that seeing is also seeing through, revealing positive dimensions of illusion, opening our image-ination, asserting in unexpected ways our freedom as individuals. 9. Conclusions Two generations ago, the greatest scholar in the field, Erwin Panofsky, could plausibly claim that perspective was a symbolic form,96 that a given culture was bound to a particular method of spatial representation: that spherical perspective belonged to antiquity and linear perspective specifically to the Renaissance. This tantalizing hypothesis unfortunately raised more problems than it answered: what

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evidence was there that the Greeks had developed a coherent method of spherical perspective? Why did some scholars insist that the Greeks had linear perspective? If linear perspective truly belonged to the Renaissance, why was it that this period also offered the first serious evidence of spherical (Fouquet), cylindrical (Mavolois) and conical (Vaulezard, Niceron, Dubreuil) perspective? Why should spherical perspective have found new exponents in the nineteenth century (Hauck, Ware)? Indeed what happened to culture after the Renaissance? Panofsky,97 his colleague Cassirer, and Aby Warburg, at whose institute they both worked, had been inspired by neo-Kantian theories of culture (e.g. Cohen),98 which began with a premise that there was progress, that each stage in cultural evolution brought a new world view, and that each world view determined perception and representation, in both theory and practice. This implied that any given culture was limited to a single method of representation, and progress would, therefore, be a simple linear development. Ironically Panofsky's own studies suggested, and Warburg's meticulous research showed conclusively, that the details of Renaissance art involved so many particulars and contradictions, that they could not be reduced to one goal of representation determined by a single, universal world view. Warburg's biographer,99 who later became director of his institute, pursued these problems in three studies in the art of the Renaissance (Norm and Form, Symbolic Images, The Heritage of Apelles),100 in which he examined the climate that made different artistic expressions possible, as a direct challenge to deterministic claims. But he devoted his main energies "to study some of the fundamental functions of the visual arts in their psychological implications."101 While insisting that art has a number of different goals or functions including narrative, caricature and symbolism, Sir Ernst Gombrich focussed attention on two major functions: ornament (A Sense of Order)102 and illusion (Art and Illusion, Illusion in Nature and Art, Image and the Eye).103 He saw the problem of illusion as relatively well defined: It basically concerns the process by which the rendering of the visible world was seen to change from schematic to naturalistic styles - a process which can be observed twice in the history of art - in classical antiquity and again in the Renaissance.104 This suggested, however, that the Renaissance brought nothing new, that it was literally a rebirth,105 and simply involved a repetition of ancient illusionistic tricks. Underlying this approach was an important assumption: that concepts of progress and determinism were necessarily linked, and that in order to escape the totalitarian perils of the latter, it was wiser to forego entirely the very idea of the former.106 This essay points beyond these problems of either-or. The six goals of art outlined above are not deterministic in a narrow sense. We have shown that Antiquity tried

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at least five different versions of imitation; that the Renaissance practiced linear, conic, cylindrical, spherical and parallel perspective, and that there has been an even greater diversity in the modern period as a simple glance at Blotti's alternatives (fig. ) reveals. Therefore simplistic equations between one worldview, one theory of vision and one practice of representation can be rejected outright. Nonetheless, certain goals favoured some methods, and actually precluded others. We have shown, for instance, that connecting, ordering and even imitating precluded perspective, whereas matching, mixing, and most branches of exploring required perspective. The climates which precluded or favoured perspectival representation were more than a question of theory. They involved architectural construction, such that building spaces with perspectival effects was an important prerequisite for perspectival representation. They were also bound up with levels of literacy: connecting and ordering requiring none, imitating needing some, matching requiring a textual community, mixing and exploring requiring complex textual communities with a heritage of both visual and verbal images. 1. Connecting

2. Ordering

3.

Imitating 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. Narrative Ideal world Isolated objects Isolated objects-using optical adjustments Imaginary scenes-using optical adjustments

4.

Matching 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. Directly Verbal sources Implicit common verbal sources Implicit common verbal sources-as everyday life,landscape Implicit common verbal sources-as play, irony Implicit uncommon verbal sources Recurring events, topoi Distortion (Anamorphosis) Distortion through simplification Surface

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5.

Mixing 1. 2. 3. Directly Verbal sources Implicit verbal sources

6.

Exploring 1. 2. 3. Mental world Perceptual world Chance

Fig. 43. Six basic goals of art Seen in this way both Antiquity and the Renaissance emerge as distinct phases, and a cumulative dimension of culture comes into focus. The Renaissance could never have attempted its synthesis of Christian and pagan images had there not been these two traditions, had these not been a well established culture which made this heritage accessible. Whereas Ancient imitation limited itself to representation of universals, Renaissance matching opened art to representation of individuals and took art in at least ten new directions (fig. 48). Some of these evolved simultaneously: e.g. the visual world, illustrating verbal sources directly, implicitly, recurring events and topoi. Others, such as illustrating verbal sources as every day life, with play, irony or distortion were only possible when new levels of distance had been reached, and these levels, once attained, rendered difficult return to a more naive level. Hence the process was not only cumulative: it tended at a certain point to become irreversible. Earlier goals of art linked visible and invisible worlds: connecting, for example, linked a visible statue with an invisible god; imitating linked visible statues with invisible gods and concepts, thus leaving only one side of the equation testable, and keeping object and subject conflated. By contrast, in the Renaissance, perspectival matching established links between visible objects and visible representations, thus making both sides of the equation testable and, at least a theory, separating subject from object. Cassirer, in his Individual and the Cosmos in Renaissance philosophy (1928) described the subject-object distinction as a static event, brought about by a shift from a finite to infinite world view.107 In our analysis, the subject-object distinction grew out of an interplay of perspective, new levels of literacy, and interpretation, was dynamic, and should be seen as part of a larger process involving increasing levels of distance (fig. ). Perspective thus emerges as something much more profound than an early copying tool. It led to a systematic exploration of interiors and exteriors, of inside and outside space in the natural world, and pointed to new distinctions between inner and outer at a psychological level. If its matching function brought the natural world into closer focus for study, it was simultaneously a distancer. Hence there was a two-fold way in which perspective brought a new power over images: first,

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it introduced systematic combination and play in the representation of basic spatial forms. Second, it led to representation being recognized as something separate from the observer, at levels of greater aesthetic distance, such that playful treatment of images in another sense became possible also. There remained a serious side to this playfulness, however. For the method which rendered nature visible for man, and liberated man from nature, also threatened to separate him in the negative sense, to alienate him. Connecting had assured a feeling of being at one with nature through communal rituals involving a totem.108 With matching this communal assurance was gone, and reassurance was at an individual level, using representations in galleries to reestablish relationships with nature. Seen in this way the art galleries of our cities are by no means luxuries. Even the visual metaphors and puns on billboards in major cities are more than advertising gimmicks: they are a part of a process helping us to see through illusion and gain more distance from nature and ourselves without becoming alienated: teaching us to see our relationships. Perspective is therefore much more than an instrument of art. It is an instrument of civilization, creating representations convincing enough that we can accept them as substitutes for the most threatening dimensions of reality: such that pictures, movies and videos, become substitutes for war, violence, rape and other forces of destruction, while at the same time threatening to stimulate the very things they were aimed to prevent. At the limit, a life of action in the field risks becoming a life of reaction to a camera or a screen. But this may be the price for a method, which transformed the closed, prescriptive rules of representation to an open, descriptive approach, which encourages new images, challenges creativity and imagination, and asserts our fundamental freedom.

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III. EPILOGUE 1.Introduction. 2.Vision, Representation and Culture. 3.Ambiguities. 4.Price of Vision. 5.Scale. 6.Fractals and Scale. 7.Passive Recording and Active Intervention. 8.Objectivity and Subjectivity Reconsidered. 9.Scales and Samples. 1.Introduction The discovery of perspective has been ranked with the discovery of the new world as one of the great events of western culture. Its advent has been described as a day the world changed. Indeed some popular accounts could lead us to believe that Brunelleschi woke up one morning and decided that he would change the western concept of space. We have shown that there was no sudden revolution. A gradual evolution in spatial representation was part of a larger phenomenon involving changes in the construction and reconstruction of space. Awareness of these changes came more slowly. A generation passed before Manetti and Filarete even mentioned Brunelleschi's demonstration. Another generation passed before Pacioli (1494) mentioned by name some of the early Italian practitioners and theorists. Vasari (1560) widened the scope considerably mentioning a number of individuals, some specific paintings and several treatises but usually without specific titles or dates. Lomazzo (1590) alluded to at least seven treatises which can be identified. Thirty four subsequent bibliographies have increased the number of sources to 1284 (Index at V.1). The present bibliography contains 7,900 sources. With respect to perspective in a strict sense we have attempted to be comprehensive. But under more general headings such as geometry there is more to be found and with respect to related topics such as sundial projection or cartography there is a vast amount of material that has yet to be examined. Hence although 450 years have passed since the advent of perspective, awareness of even the basic sources remains incomplete. Of these only a tiny sample has, in turn, been used in considering the history of perspective in particular and projection methods in general. Poudra's (1864) standard history cites 167 sources. Panofsky (1927), the most famous single study in the field, cites 24 sources. It is not surprising, therefore, that the claims made by these authors need revision. We shall begin with changing relations of vision, representation and culture. We shall then show that vision, as used in the West since the Renaissance, is complex and comes at a considerable price but nonetheless brings enormous advantages largely through concepts of scale. Recent developments with fractals challenge us to reconsider basic assumptions of perspective in terms of scale, whether the process is passive or active, objective or subjective, and indeed, the very foundations of scientific method. We shall suggest that this offers new ways of understanding the unique characteristics of western culture.

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2.Vision, Representation and Culture. Panofsky's most famous claim was that perspective is not something absolute, that is can be seen as a symbolic form in Cassirer's sense, that each culture has its own world view, particular theory of vision and corresponding theory of representation. According to Panofsky a finite world view of the Greeks led to a spherical theory of vision and perspective, while the emergence of an infinite world view in the late middle ages led to linear perspective and a corresponding adjustment in Euclidean optics. As we have shown (p.202), this model is too simple. We have shown that these changing relationships of vision, representation and world view are better understood if we see them in the context of texts and literacy. In pre-literate societies, for instance, individual artists might reflect on these questions but, because they did not write them down, no fixed theory could be identified with their particular culture. The absence of texts meant absence of a defined standard. This allowed freedom with respect to loosely defined boundaries of a given style, yet imposed constraints in that such societies were usually limited to one style with which to identify themselves. The advent of manuscripts was a necessary but not sufficient condition for texts on vision and representation. India developed a complex culture without texts on optics or representation. China produced texts on representation without reference to theories of vision. Islam produced texts on optics without reference to representation. Greece, which produced texts on both vision and representation was an exception. These texts were more ambiguous than Panofsky assumed. Euclid's theory of vision could be taken to imply spherical, cylindrical or even flat projection planes. Hence Greece did not establish a given projection method for optics and art. Its contribution lay, rather, in using geometry for vision and representation, but geometry without reference to measured size and distance, i.e. without a defined scale. During the Renaissance, which saw the advent of printing, written theories of vision and representation became more widespread. Geometry was applied increasingly in conjunction with measured size and distance. But it was again the case that no single projection method was used exclusively for vision and art. Explorations of planar projection methods in linear perspective went hand in hand with study of angular, pyramidal, conic, cylindrical and spherical projection methods. Hence the important characteristic of the period 1400-1600 was not simply the use of linear perspective but rather a recognition that, depending on the surface used, representation involved a number of projection methods governed by mathematical laws: i.e. that projection depended on geometry rather than optics. This raised further questions which came into focus in the period 1600-1800: whether there might be different projection methods in everyday vision and representation and whether there could be conflicts between these methods. One reaction was to concentrate on representation. Another was to consider only cases where there was no conflict. Since 1800 there has been increasing interest in what the precise nature of these conflicts might be and has led, more recently, to renewed study of cylindrical, spherical, hyperbolic and other complex planes

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which frequently reflect personal theories of vision rather than claiming to embody universal optical laws. Panofsky claimed that each society develops a specific theory of vision and corresponding theory of representation. Our claim is that articulate theories of vision and representation do not emerge in pre-literate societies; that such theories require manuscripts and only begin to thrive when there are printed texts and that, paradoxically, the advent of print culture, instead of establishing one specific method to the exclusion of others, proliferates the number of methods. Advances within such cultures cannot therefore be seen as a simple choice of a new method and are better understood in terms of increasing distinctions between vision and representation and attention to personal solutions for bridging these distinctions. So it is not really a question of which kind of perspective is used in a society, but rather a more basic problem of the ways in which mathematics, and particularly geometry are used in explaining vision and representation. If Panofsky were writing today he might have discussed mathematics in optics and representation as a symbolic form. 3.Ambiguities of Vision It is so difficult to discuss these changing relationships largely because vision, which is often assumed to be constant, varies culturally and historically. A paleolithic tribesman, an Athenian Greek, a Renaissance Florentine, an eighteenth century Parisian and a modern New Yorker all have two eyes. Yet what each of them could see varies tremendously. A contemporary native of the Amazon rain forests sees all kinds of dangers which we as casual tourists would never notice: dangerous animals, deadly snakes, poisonous plants, and at the same time is only aware of a small percentage of the 1700 species of birds which fly around him. An ornithologist will see the species, but may not see the trees for the birds. Someone who grows up driving automobiles at 200 kilometers per hour on German highways sees very different things. Every occupation and profession focuses on certain visual skills at the expense of others: a hunter, a goldsmith, tool and die maker, geologist, detective, botanist and an artist each see different dimensions of what is theoretically one world. Most? cultural history is frequently approached in terms of isolated representations of artists which are then taken as typical of the way in which a culture "saw." Sir Ernst Gombrich has explored other reasons why one might wish to avoid speaking of what persons "saw" altogether. Strictly speaking we can, at best, only attempt a history of what persons recorded in the form of words and pictures as having seen: a second-hand history of sight, as it were. Even in this we have scarcely begun. Histories of graphic methods such as Dubery and Willats are strikingly summary. A comprehensive history of projection methods has yet to be written. A history of how different trades and professions changed the boundaries of the visible has yet to be attempted.

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4.The Price of Vision There are also more subtle problems. We have shown that perspective owed much to a late mediaeval commitment to transform storytelling into painting, and we have emphasized the positive dimensions of this process. It exploded the boundaries of representation. It introduced spatio-temporal dimensions. But all this also came at a price. For it reduced the dynamic act of storytelling to static moments. It took away the performance aspect, the spontaneity, the uniqueness of the process, replacing this with something fixed, motionless, but capable of being reproduced almost exactly. Cultures such as China, India and Africa chose another path. They frequently avoided pictures and even words altogether, preferring to translate their stories into dance. In this form each version of a story was unique, spontaneous, full of motion and life, yet incapable of being repeated exactly. The west wanted repeatability and gradually found it, but again at a price. Each step closer to repeatability meant more mechanical aids, first compasses, then pantographs, gradually cameras, photo copy machines and CAD graphics packages. Every step closer to a perfect copy, threatened to become more impersonal. Fortunately there were also enormous advantages which made this price bearable: these involved systematic control of representation which came through mastery of scale, size and distance. 5.Scale In pre-literate societies, where there were no fixed rules of vision and representation, there were no concepts of scale, size and distance. A voodoo witch could use a tiny doll to affect a large man whether he were near or far away. The size of the doll, the size of the victim, the distance between the two, were meaningless factors in a magical context. Greek theories of vision and representation included some ideas of lines, angles and proportion. This brought a concept of scale to individual objects rather than contexts, as becomes clear if we return to our earlier example of the planisphere (fig. 64a). When the tropic of cancer was projected onto the equator its scale was reduced. Whether the drawing involved was small as it is here or as large as the actual size of the earth made no difference. Hence although scale within a drawing was important, the scale of the drawing itself was irrelevant. This applied to all representations (sculptures, paintings and drawings) where proportions were constant (fig. 64.b-c). Hence tiny statuettes and monumental statues had the same effect, and there was no incentive to change scale in order to bring objects into focus and study them more closely. Only changes in angle and proportion were significant (fig. 64. d-e).

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Fig. 64 Greek projection methods concentrated on scale within an object rather than scale between objects. Whether a diagram was small or large did not matter. Only changes in angle were important. The advent of perspective in the Renaissance integrated Greek geometrical ideas of line, angle and proportion with measured size and distance. A small picture might represent small objects which were nearby or large objects at a distance. Size now became a relation between apparent and measured size which varied with distance. It was not distance between isolated objects, but distance between planes that counted. If distances were too great and objects too small, this could be solved by changing their scale. Perspective thus brought incentives for the development of telescopes and later of microscopes. All this shifted attention from scale within an object to scale between objects in a given plane and scale between objects and contexts: persons and buildings to townscapes and landscapes, and these in turn to surveyors' charts, topographical views and maps. An inverse size/distance law governed these relations and all one needed to do was to decide which scale was appropriate for which purpose. This had enormous consequences for representation: scenes, townscapes, landscapes, views and maps could all be coordinated systematically. A sense of mastery and domination of nature emerged, a sense that everything could be measured, but a key to objective control had been found. Objectivity was simply a question of changing scale in order to get things into focus. 6. Fractals and Scale Renaissance perspective was based on the assumption that every object has a fixed measured size, that size and shape within a given plane are constant and that size varies only with distance. The advent of microscopes called these assumptions into question. Within a certain range of magnification objects simply appeared larger, i.e. scale affected only size. Magnification beyond this range affected both the size and shape of objects. This was known in the seventeenth century and it became obvious in the eighteenth century when instrument makers such as Brander and Martin began using telescopes and microscopes in connection with perspective. Electron microscopes introduced more vivid examples. Yet, curiously enough, the philosophical implications of the discrepancy remained unnoticed and it took the development of fractals to recognize that this principle involved something far more basic than special conditions in microscopes and telescopes. James Gleick used a map of England as an example. If one uses a ruler one kilometer in length then the coast has a certain number of corners and a given length. If one uses a ruler one meter in length than the same coast has a thousand more corners. If one uses a ruler one centimeter in length the same coast may have 100,000 more corners then the same coast measured in terms of kilometers. The coast measured in centimeters will also have a far greater circumference than the coast measured in kilometers. Perspective assumed that scale affects only size. Fractals confirm that scale affects shape as well as size.

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7.Passive Recording and Active Intervention The consequences of this corollary run deep. As long as scale affected only size, it could be claimed that perspective, which recorded the world in different scales, was a passive recording technique which did not interfere with the essential characteristics of that which it examined. Perspective was therefore a model for the scientific method of passive, objective observation and recording without active subjective intervention. If, however, scale affected the basic shape of what was studied, then perspective, which played with scale, was tampering with the evidence that it claimed to be recording and was subjective in a way that Panofsky and his followers had not suspected. 8.Objective and Subjective Reconsidered The problem is partly conceptual. The subject-object distinction as formulated by Cassirer, was mainly in terms of a Cartesian duality, as if subjective and objective were in opposition to one another like mind and matter or quality and quantity; the subjective actively imposing itself onto the world, the objective passively recording the world. This model was too simplistic. Perspective might aim to record the outside world passively but to do so required reducing nature's incredible complexity to simple forms and patterns which could easily be traced on the picture plane. Hence it was no coincidence that regular polygons and regular architectural forms such as arches and cupolas played so prominent a role in early perspectival treatises. In the case of fields and landscapes the problem was resolved by reducing their complex irregular surfaces to a small number of station points which could then be joined to produce simple polygonal forms. Passive recording of a landscape required an active imposition on its surface of geometrical shapes amenable to being recorded. Heisenberg's indeterminacy principle introduced the idea that one could not study problems in quantum physics without disturbing the evidence. Perhaps we need to see the whole of early modern science in these terms: that universal measurement in the Renaissance needed more than a conviction that the language of nature was written in the alphabet of geometry. It required an active imposition of Euclidean geometry on nature, and this particular kind of active, subjective interference with nature was paradoxically inseparable from the passive objective recording to which it is frequently described as being opposed. And like the size of the mesh in a fish net which determines the size of fish which can be caught, the geometrical grid of Euclidean geometry determined the scale of reality which could be recorded. Accordingly geometrical figures with straight lines and circles replaced the complex curves of botany and biology in early scientific textbooks. Nor did this change dramatically in the nineteenth century with the non-Euclidean geometries of Lobachewsky, Bolyai and Riemann which projected these simple geometrical forms onto spherical and hyperbolic surfaces. Mandelbrot's fractal geometry was the first to offer new possibilities in recording nature's complexity.

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Hence the distinction between inner subjective and outer objective forms remains valid, as do the quest for quantitative measurement traditionally associated with objectivity and perspectival projection principles which apply equally whether one records a simple square or a fractal form. But more is involved than a passive recording of an object in one scale onto a picture plane in a second scale (fig. 65).

Fig. 65 The recording principles of perspective apply whether the object recorded be a Euclidean square or a fractal form. Yet the scale of the original object affects the shape as well as the size of the object to be recorded. An active choice is required to decide the initial scale of the first object for this determines the shape as well as the size of the object to be recorded. In other words, besides actual measurement of an external physical object, objectivity involves a subjective decision about the scale of measurement which provides parameters and tolerances of what is to be measured. 9.Scales and Samples Simple as these distinctions may seem, they have basic consequences for concepts of knowledge and are very much bound up with western culture. In cultures where there was no distinction between subjective (inner, mental) and objective (outer, physical) images, knowledge was internal, psychological and lay in a person's conception of an image with no need to study further examples and no incentive to communicate this conception. In this extreme case knowledge could stop with a sample of one. Already in Greece, the west embarked on a different course. Plato combined this approach with a belief in ideal images which theoretically required only introspection but in practice assumed the external stimulus of dialogue. His student Aristotle argued that knowledge was something to be collected rather than meditated, appropriated from outside rather than sought inside, an approach

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inherited by Islam and in turn by the Christian West, where it was reinforced by a belief in Creatural realism, particularly through the Franciscans and Dominicans. The development of perspective brought into focus a distinction between outer images which could be seen, recorded and measured and inner images which could not. Perspective introduced systematic rules for recording external objects. Instruments such as the perspectival window or compass and ruler, and later the proportional compass and pantograph were intended to simplify this process. They also revealed that the process was much more complex in practice than in theory and that the catalogue was potentially much larger than suspected. While visionaries such as Francis Bacon made pleas for a catalogue of all possible examples, two decisive factors stood in the way. First, the neo-Platonic heritage fostered deep-seated assumptions about the regularity of knowledge which limited attention to ideal examples. Secondly, as we have noted, the recording process itself used the idealizing filter of Euclidean geometry. This meant that knowledge was limited to an empirical example of regular cases. Nonetheless, the development of ever more precise instruments assumed that the recording and collecting process continued to be cumulative. For instance, the camera revealed many new complexities in the process of recording and greatly expanded the size of the potential catalogue. The computer is doing the same. A recent study at the Bell Laboratories compared vocabularly used in the New York Times over a six month period with that of standard dictionaries and found that over 30% of the words in the newspaper were not in standard dictionaries. International projects of Greek vases, coins, statues or bibliographies such as the present one all point in the same direction: earlier claims were all made on the basis of surprisingly small samples which were frequently kept deliberately small. An interesting pattern thus emerges. Societies where no distinction was made between inner and outer tended to be closed, and focussed attention on their own culture, rather than looking futher. Societies with some awareness of inner and outer began to appropriate knowledge from other cultures. As the distinction became more clearly defined, this process of appropriation became more visible. The emergence of perspective in early fifteenth century Florence thus went hand in hand with an unprecedented interest in other cultures through the collection of Hebraic, Arabic, Chaldaian, Babylonian and other sources, leading gradually to the disciplines of anthropology, archaeology, ethnography and comparative religion which have developed in the west as nowhere else, although ideologies such as fascism and other-isms have tried to limit this looking outwards and control ideas even more systematically than in earlier closed societies. Perspective, as described by Panofsky and most subsequent authors, was a phenomenon linked specifically with the Renaissance. Its impact, as they described it, was mainly in the domain of painting, the creation of a particualr approach to space. We have shown that it had fundamental consequences for both science, art

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and literature; that it changed the way western man constructed his environment, and we are suggesting that it transformed the ways in which he acquired knowledge, that the distinctions between inner and outer which it set in motion, led to an increasing externalization and objectivization of the world, which focussed attention away from verbal universals to visual particulars and thereby challenged him to use ever larger samples in making claims concerning knowledge. Meanwhile, the concepts of scale which perspective introduced had long term implications for both the recording and organization of knowledge. For these reasons perspective needs to be seen as more than a cultural expression specific to the Renaissance, and recognized as one of the pivotal concepts of European culture, the implications of which are still being explored. For what began as a looking into, a seeing through, has led from a literal fixing of the horizon to a metaphorical looking beyond one's horizons and a study of other cultures. What began as a symbol for a fixed approach to space has become an emblem of spatial play, of imagination and freedom.

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10. NOTES Introduction 1. William M. Ivins Jr. Art and geometry, Cambridge Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1946; Martin Foss, The idea of perfection in the western world, Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1946. 2. Julius von Schlosser, Die Kunstlitteratur, Vienna: Schroll, 1924; translated by Otto Kurz as La letteratura artistica, Scandicci (Florence): La nuova Italia editrice, 1964 (reprint 1986). 3. Samuel Y. Edgerton, Jr., The Renaissance Rediscovery of Linear Perspective, New York: Basic Books, 1975.

Chapter 1 1. Objective as used here refers to a systematic relationship between object and representation without necessary intervention of the human eye. A school of modern artists characterized by Hansen (e.g. 1987) disagrees with this definition and would include as objective all mathematical systems which attempt to record impressions of or at the eye. 2. Vitruvius, The Ten Books on Architecture, tr. Morris Hicky Morgan, New York: Dover, 1960, p. 198. For the original Latin see, Vitruvii De architectura libri decem, ed. Dr. C. Fensterbusch, Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1976, p. 308. 3. See, for instance, John White, The Birth and Rebirth of Pictorial Space, London: Faber and Faber, 1957, chapter XVI, "Spatial design in Antiquity." The other major exponent of the view that the Greeks had knowledge of linear perspective is A.M.G. Little, Roman Perspective Painting and the Ancient Stage, Shiremanston: Moretus Press, 1971. Against this view is G.M.A. Richter, Perspective in Greek and Roman Art, London: Phaidon, 1970. 4. Vitruvius, tr. Morgan, as in note 2, p. 211; c.f. Vitruvius, ed. Fensterbusch, pp. 332-335. 5. See, for instance, H .G. Beyen, Die Pompejanische Wandekoration vom und bis zum 4 Stil, The Hague: Martinus Nijhoff, 1938-1960, 2 vols. 6. See, Alfonso de Franciscis, La villa romana di Oplontis, Recklinghausen: Verlag Aurel Bongers, 1975.

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7. This point has been made by Miriam Shild Bunim, Space in Mediaeval Painting and the Forerunners of Perspective, New York: Columbia University Press, 1940, p. 31. 8. John Pennethorne, The Geometry and Optics of Ancient Architecture, London: Williams and Norgate, 1878. 9. Plato, "The Sophist," 236 a-c in The Collected Dialogues of Plato ed. Edith Hamilton and Huntington Cairns, Princeton: Princeton University Press 1961; p. 978-979 (Bollingen Series LXXI). 10. For this and other examples see Jurgis Baltrusaitis, Anamorphoses, ou magie artificielle des effets merveilleux, Paris: Olivier Perrin, 1969, pp. 10-14. There is an English translation by W.J. Strachan, Anamorphic Art, Cambridge: Chadwyck-Healey Ltd., 1977. 11. For an introduction to this complex story see J. Baltrusaitis, as in note 10 above, pp. 71-78. For more details see Hans Willem Van Helsdingen, Historier en peindre: Poussins opvattingen over kunst in het licht van de discussies in de franse kunstlitteratur in de twede helft van de zeventiende eeuw, Proefschrift, Utrecht, 1971. 12. L. F. Shegin, Die Sprache des Bildes, Form und Konvention in der alten Kunst, Dresden: VEB Verlag der Kunst, 1982. 13. This point was made in Leon Battista Alberti, On Painting, ed. John Spencer, New Haven: Yale University Press, 1956, p. 121. Cf. Alberti, De pictura ed. Cecil Grayson, Rome: Laterza, p. 55: id velum quod ipse inter familiares meos sum solitus appelare intercisionem, cuius ego usum nunc primum adinveni. 14. For a transcription of this passage see the author's Leonardo da Vinci and the Visual Dimensions of Science and Art (Munich: Deutscher Kunstverlag, 1986), p.443. 15. See Michel Gallet, Les origines de la perspective linaire. Evolution de l'optique picturale pendant la renaissance. Thse presente pour le diplme suprieur de l'Ecole du Louvre, 1955. 16. Joseph Harnest, "Drer und die Perspektive" in: Albrecht Drer, ed. Peter Strieder, Knigstein: Langewiesche, Karl Robert, Nachfolger Hans Koster, 1981, p. 358.

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17. Our figure 17 is a translation from the classic article by M. D'Avezac "Coup d'oeil historique sur la projection des cartes de gographie," Bulletin de la socit de gographie, Paris, avril, mai, juin 1863, p. 152. For a brief introduction to historical methods see Johannes Keuning, "The history of geographical map projections until 1600," Imago mundi, London, vol. 12, 1955, pp. 1-24. For a standard modern textbook on the subject see J.A. Steers, An Introduction to the Study of Map Projections, London: University of London Press Ltd., 1927, etc. On the complex problems of Ptolemy's cartographic methods see: Mollweide, "Mappirungkunst des Claudius Ptolemaeus, ein Beitrag zur Geschichte des Landkarten," Monatliche Correspondenz zur Beforderung der Erd und Himmelskunde von Baron von Zach, Gotha, Bd. 11, Apr. 1805, S. 319-340, 504-415; "Die Gradnetze des Ptolemaus im ersten Buche seiner Geographie. bersetzung der Kapitel 21 bis 24 nebst Anmerkurgen und Figuren," Beilage zum Jahresbericht des Kniglichen Gymnasiums zu Chemnitz fur das Schuljahr, Ostern 1908, bis Ostern 1909....Chemnitz: Druck von J.C.F. Pickenhahn & Sohn, pp. 1-28 (Programm-Nr. 726). The idea that Ptolemy developed a third method of projection was put forward by Konstantin Cebrian, Geschichte der Kartographie. I. Altertum, Gotha; Justus Perthes, 1922, p. 98 and Abb. 6 and developed by Otto Neugebauer, "Ptolemy's Geography. Book VII, Chapter 6 and 7", Isis, Cambridge, Mass., vol. 50, 1959, pp. 22-29; Kirsti Andersen, "The Central projection in one of Ptolemy's map projections," Centaurus, vol. 30, 1987, pp. 106-113. Also important in this context are Lauri O. Th. Tudeer, "On the origin of the maps attached to Ptolemy's Geography," Journal of Hellenic Studies, London, vol. 37, 1917, pp. 62-76; Dr. Paul Schnabel, "Die Enstehungsgeschichte des kartographischen Erdbildes des Klaudios Ptolemaios," Sitzungsberichte der preussischen Akademie der Wissenschaften, Philosophisch-historische Klasse, Berlin, Stuck VIII, 6 Mrz 1930, 214-250; Hans von Mzik, "Neue Gesichtspunkte zur Wrdigung der Bedeutung der Geographie des Klaudios Ptolemaos fur die Orientalistik...," Litterae orientales, Leipzig, vol. 54, Apr. 1933, 1-16; Ptolemaeus, Theorie und Grundlagen der Darstellenden Erdkunde, tr. Hans v. Mzik, Friedrich Hopfner, Vienna: Gerold und Co., 1938. (Klotho, Bd. 5. Des Klaudios Ptolemaios Einfhrung in die darstellende Erdkunde); Leo Bagrow, "The origin of Ptolemy's Geographia," Geografaska annaler. Utgivna av Svenska sallskapet for antropologi och geografi, Stockholm, vol. 27, 1945, pp. 318-387. It is perhaps not irrelevant to note that Danti (1583) in his annotation to Problema VIII. Proposizione XXXVI refers not to Ptolemy's Geography but rather to his Almagest, Bk. I, Chap. 9 regarding inscription of regular polygons in circles and similar geometrical problems. Stevin (1605) in his 1st definition mentions that: "Optics as genus has several species such as catoptrics, dioptrics, planispheres, sun-dials, perspective proper and several others." In other words there are links between optics, perspective and astronomy rather than with geography.

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18. The relevant passages have been translated and analysed in the author's work on Leonardo, as in note 14 above, pp. 143-169 19. See, for instance, Timothy K. Kitao, "Prejudice in perspective: a study of Vignola's perspective treatise," Art Bulletin, New York, vol. 44, Sept. 1962, pp. 173-194 and Robert Klein, "Pomponius Gauricus on perspective," Art Bulletin, New York, vol. 43, Sept. 1961, pp. 211-230. 20. Cf. Wilfred Theisen, The Mediaeval Tradition of Euclid's Optics, University of Wisconsin, Ph.D. Thesis, 1972. 21. Al-Farabi, Catalogo de las ciencias, ed. A. G. Palencia, Madrid: Consejo superior de investigaciones cientificas, Patronato Menendez y Pelayo, Instituto Miguel Asia, 1953. 22. See the author's thesis Renaissance Optics and Perspective. A Study in the Problems of Size and Distance, D. Phil. Thesis, Warburg Institute, University of London, 1975, pp. 15-73. 23. Spencer edition, as in note 13 above, p. 69. 24. See Rocco Sinisgalli, Borromini a quattro dimensioni, Rome: Universita degli studi di Roma - Facolta di architettura, 1981. 25. Cf. the title to Vredeman de Vries, Perspective, id est, celeberrima ars inspicientis aut transpicientis oculorum aciei in pariete...Leiden: Hondius 1604. 26. For a standard analysis of Saenredam's methods see Rob Ruurs, Saenredam. The Art of Perspective, Amsterdam: Benjamins/Forsten Publisher, 1987. (Oculi, Studies in the arts of the Low Countries, volume 1.) 27. See: Il libro di Victruvio architecto tradocto di latino in lingua et sermone proprio et volgare da Fabio Calvio Ravenate. In casa di Raphaello da Giovanni di Sacte da Urbino et a sua instantia, Munich, Bayerische Staatsbibliothek MS. 1034, Ital. 37 inter cimel. 380. For the context of this and other Vitruvian editions see Pier Nicola Pagliari, "Vitruvio da testo a canone" in Salvatore Settis, ed. Memoria dell antico nell'arte italiana, Turin: Giulio Einaudi, 1986, pp. 7-85, which is followed by an article by Arnold Nesselrath, "I libri di disegni di antichita. Tentative di una tipologia," pp. 89-147 and a basic contribution by Settis himself: "Continuita, distanza, conoscenza. Tre usi dell'antico," pp. 375-486. 28. Views of Rome then and now. 41 etchings by Giovanni Battista Piranesi and corresponding photographs and text by Herschel Levit, New York: Dover Publications, 1976.

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29. Edgerton, as in note 3 of the introduction, pp. 74-75. 30. Sir E. H. Gombrich, Means and Ends. Reflections on the History of Fresco Painting, London: Thames and Hudson, 1976, p. 32. 31. See Antonio Manetti, The Life of Brunelleschi, trans. Catherine Enggars, ed. Howard Saalman, University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press, 1970, pp. 118, 151. Some of these connections have been considered in the author's Military Surveying and Topography: the Practical Dimension of Renaissance Linear Perspective. Lisbon: Junta de investigacoes cientificas da ultramar 1979. (Centro de estudos de cartografia antiga. CXXIX.) 32. See: Jean Lejeune, Les van Eyck. Peintres de Lige et de sa cathdrale, Liege: Georges Thone, 1956; Armand Jean Heins, Une rue de Gend peinte par Hubert van Eyck. Essai d'identification de la vue de ville reprsente sur le revers de deux volets de polyptique de l'Agneau mystique, Ghent: N. Heins, 1907. 33. Cord Meckseper, Kleine Kunstgeschichte der deutschen Stadt in Mittelalter, Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1982. Cf. Pierre Lavedan, Reprsentation des villes dans l'art du moyen age, Paris: Vanoest, 1954 and Claudio Buttafava, Visioni de citta nelle opere d'arte del medioevo e del rinascimento, Milan: Libreria Salto, 1963. (Politecnico di Milano, Istituto di urbanistica della facolta di architettura.) 34. Cf. IR. R. Meischke, Amsterdam Burgerweeshuis, Hague: Staatsuitgeeverig, 1975 (De nederlandse monumenten van geschiedenis en Kunst. De Provincie Noordholland. De gemeente Amsterdam Deel 1) 35. Giovanni Paolo Lomazzo, Idea del tempio della pittura, Milan: P.G. Pontio, 1590, p. 17: Mantegna c'ha fatto alcuni disegni di prospettiva, dove ha delineato le figure poste secondo il suo occhio, delle quali io ne ho veduto alcune di sua mano con suoi avertimenti in scritto. 36. Ibid...pp. 17, 52, 149. Cf. Giovanni Paolo Lomazzo, Trattato dell'arte de la pittura, Milan: Appresso Paolo Gottardo, 1585, pp. 336, 100-101. 37. Benvenuto Cellini, Trattati dell'oreficeria e della scultura, ed. C. Milanesi, Florence: Le Monnier, 1857, p. 226: un libro scritto in penna... In fra le altre mirabili cose, ch'erano in su esso, trovai un discorso della prospettiva, il piu bello che mai fusse trovato da altro uomo al mondo, perche le regole della prospettiva mostrano solamente lo scortare della longitudine e non quella della latitudine a

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altitudine. Il detto Leonardo aveva trovato le regole re le dava ad intendere con tanta bella facilta et ordine, chi ogni uomo che la vedeva era capacissimo. 38. Lomazzo Re: Bramante see; Lomazzo, 1585, as in note 36, pp. 370, 100, 320 and 1590, as in note 35, pp. 150, 16. Re: Bramantino see: Lomazzo, 1585, 271272, 274-275, Lomazzo, 1590, 150, 16, Re: Foppa see: Lomazzo, 1585, 275, 100, 320 and Lomazzo 1590, 108, 150. 39. Luca Pacioli, Libellus in tres partiales tractatus in Divina proportione, Venice, 1509, fol. 22r: Lectore non te maravigliare se de simili corpi composti de diverse e varie base non te se mette sempre in margine loro figure conciosia ch'le sieno facte per mano de bono perspectivo que non si possano sempre havere a sua posta come sua humanita feci el nostra Lionardo da vinci. Chapter 2 1. Giorgio Vasari, Lives of the Painters, Sculptors and Architects, trans. William Gaunt, London: Dent, 1927 (Everyman's Library 784-787), 4 vol. 2. Jacob Burckhardt, Die Cultur der Renaissance in Italien, Basel: Schweighauser, 1860. Trans. Dr. Ludwig Geiger and Professor Walther Gotz, The Civilization of the Renaissance, New York: Harper and Row, 1929, 2 vol. 3. Andr Chastel, Renaissance mridionale, Paris: Librairie Gallimard, 1965. 4. Andr Chastel, Le grand atelier d'Italie, Paris: Librairie Gallimard, 1965. 5. Enrico Castelnuovo e Carlo Ginzburg, "Centro e periferia," Storia dell'arte italiana, Turin: Giulio Einaudi, 1979, pp. 285-352. Cf. Ferdinando Bologna, La coscienza storica dell'arte d'Italia, Turin: UTET, 1982. 6. Alessandro Parronchi, Studi su la dolce prospettiva, Milan: Aldo Martello, 1964, pp. 583 ff. 7. For an analysis of this treatise see the author's work on Leonardo, as in I.1, note 14, pp. 57-60, 68-86. 8. Christiane L. Joost-Gaugier, "The tuscanization of Jacopo Bellini: Part 1: the relation of Jacopo to problems of the 1420's," Acta historiae artium, Budapest, vol. 23, fasc. 1, 1977, pp. 95-112 and "The tuscanization of Jacopo Bellini: Part II: the relation of Jacopo to problems of the 1430's," Acta historiae artium, Budapest, vol. 23, fasc. 2, 1977, pp. 292-312.

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9. Andr Corboz, Canaletto: una Venezia immaginaria, Milan: Alfieri Electa, 1985, 2 vol. is a penetrating and fundamental study. 10. G. Vasari, Lives, as in note 1 above, vol. II, pp. 44. 11. Ibid., p. II, 141. 12. This sermon is sufficiently remarkable to deserve citation in full. Below I give a translation followed by the original: May the spirit of divine grace illuminate our senses and our heart. Amen. Reverend lords, venerable fathers, excellent doctors, magnificent men, most keen students of this faculty and other most outstanding citizens. Of all arduous and difficult things, the most difficult is proportion. For it is this alone which penetrates deeply and most high and individual aspects of the trinity and is studied most carefully by the sacred theologues. For this is what is often called "relatio" in their volumes, or "respectus" or even "habitudo." Or in an intellectual discourse it is called by another name, "comparatio." Its acquaintance is something of which divine philosophers are most desirous when preparing metaphysical works for publication. It is ardently followed by natural philosophers such as Socrates, Plato, Aristotle and all the rest when they are treating the nature of things of the universe. Nor is it different with the universe of things above: for surely their debt is to be sought in proportion or "habitudo" just as with inferior things. And if they apply themselves to sacred scriptures, how can they explain the procession of the holy spirit from the father to the son caused by their reciprocal love and are able to express language with the pen, unless they first perceive amongst themselves the relation of the father to the son. This the greatest maker always has in front of his eyes in the disposition of things of the heavens and earth while he disposes the movement and path of the stars and all the planets in most orderly fashion. And this when he established the air above and appended the fundament of the earth and liberated the sources of water and gave to the sea its boundary, placing a law on the waters that they would not overflow their bounds, by which the waters were all together. And what delight would there be for the human race if from so great a diversity of things no proportion arose? As is often said it is variety which delights. Moreover how could one be grouped by the love of the invisible unless one perceived some relation of created to creator? And although no proportion is predicated from the finite to the infinite, it is not denied by the learned that a proportion between them was attained by the sacred. Moreover, the natural philosophers, as mentioned above, sought for the proportions of natural things assiduously, as is found in their texts and above all Aristotle, whose works are at hand more than others. For in his physics the proportion of movements of sound are most subtly examined. And from the ten commandments from which comes the number ten, all physicists are content to deduce one of relation or add spatially something of this sublime investigation of proportion. I shall omit some of the other almost innumerable places where there is most frequent discussion of proportions and proportionalities. Among these it is especially to doctors (as I

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conclude from De naturalibus) who are most illustrious (and in whose hands is the health of all) that they are noted and must be out of necessity. For hot and cold, dry and wet will not have their proper ratios in their medicine, unless (doctors) have found one of these scales which we have mentioned which, after having proportioned from many qualities, they make one which exhibits characteristics appropriate for the sick body. How would the astronomers who abandoned proportion act other than mindless blind men? Those who feel, speak, as the Egyptians say, such as Ptolemy, Albategni, Alfraganus, Geber, Albumaser and the others who by utmost diligence have reached the forefront of proportion. Similarly the chorographers and cosmographers. And Marinus, whom Ptolemy often attacks, Strabo and the others who have most accurately handed down the positions of the entire orb on our maps could they have put so much into a single book if they had not observed proportion? I ask them to speak of all the architects and inventors of different machines past and present: Pythius, who first designed the temple of Venus in a noble style, Dinocrates, Archimedes, Vitruvius, Frontinus, Vegetius and many others who excelled in the construction of buildings. Do the profuse ruins by which they are remembered bear witness by what means it was they built such things? It is surely that they had proportion as a guide as all their work shows. Why should the most famous painters Apelles, Myron, Polyclytus and others whom the historians name worthy of praise for their perspective in the sight of posterity, if in their figures, their lines and distances did not use proper heights and lengths proportionately. The same applies to stone carvers or sculptors of stone, Phidias, Praxiteles and Appollonius, Nestor and others in such occupations as the aforementioned if they did not use the same proportion most diligently in their marble and statues, just as the missing bits thereof can be easily be put back into place if these [proportions] be found. Likewise, the musicians seek nothing else in their melodies except a proper mode of voice and sounds, that is, sesquialtera, sesquitertia, diapente, diapason and with other proportions of this kind (as Boethius attests) which are in proportion, such that they resonate more sweetly and smoothly in the ears of the audience and bring to them the greatest delight which could scarcely be achieved without proportion and proportionality. Imitating this manner the poets compose their songs (with practically the same measures) the ductyl, iambus, trochee, anapest, tritrachus and procleumaticus, and using the other feet in proportion in their place. And like these, the rhetoricians also assign to their orations the necessary parts and congruent numbers. Grammar, the origin and fundament of all the liberal arts, is also found to observe this when it deals in the teaching of beginners in properly speaking and writing, to end with grave, acute and circumflex accents. Which is also the way of the most just Justinian laws. And [how could] his canons form proper judgments if these did not support both types of justice namely the commutative and distributive? Of which the one, namely, the distributive, belonging to geometry, has been shown to direct so much proportion (as Aristotle in the Ethics and Plato in the Laws and the Republic testify), added to which the just man himself, the judge of the living and the dead will one day give retribution to the human race bringing into proportion to one another the merits and dismerits of all as can clearly be gleaned from the sacred scriptures. The foremost patrons of public affairs of this age also observe

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the commutative part assiduously when selling things for money or settling or dealing in some other way. And the industry of each of the other mechanical arts has its due proportions which moderate it as experience testifies. But since we are history such, what shall we say of our arithmeticians and geometers who are always usually first among equals, such as Pythagoras and Nicomachus who are cited as having been the inventors of the first numbers among the Greeks, although Boethius and Apuleius were held to have been so among the Romans? Did not these serve some proportions more diligently which (according to Euclid) they called rational? Geometers truly are indifferent in their care for either one, namely, rational or irrational. Finally this proportion is an infinite thesaurus for men by the use of which they are made participants in the friendship of Christ through the gift of discipline of the Commandment. I have disseminated this purpose without deception and to those desirous of it without envy I communicate it showing its virtue most openly. Hence Euclid entered upon the necessary observance of these proportions and proportionalities in order that all that which he said would have greater fruit. Of these same matters he deals most thoroughly in the fifth book, writing thirty four definitions with their premises and then as is his manner their conclusions (which makes up the whole of this book). And he concludes against his adversaries most firmly and irrefutably. For which reason if someone aspires to any speculation in any faculty of art or science he will approach this fountain whence the rivers of the waters of life flow always. And its ingenuity is to be extolled above the stars. But the case demands that we now come to the text, which begins as follows: A part is The original is in: Euclid, Euclidis megarensis opera, ed. Luca Pacioli, Venice: Paganinus de Paganinis ,1509, fol. 30: Sermo habitus per Reverendum patrem M Lucam Paciolum de burgo Sancti Sepulchri Ordo. minorum In ecclesia Sancti Bartholomei. Venetiis. 1508. Die. xi. augusti in quintum Euclidis. Spiritus sancti gratia illuminet sensus et corda nostra. Amen. Arduarum difficiliumque rerum omnium. Reveredi domini uenerandi patres: excellentissimi Doctores: Magnifici viri: Acutissimi cuiuscunque facultatis studentes vosque caeteri prestantissimi ciues : difficillima est proportio. Haec est illa quae sola intima altissimae idividuaeque trinitatis penetrat; et a sacris theologis solertissime investigatur. Haec enim est quae saepius in eorum uolu minibus relatio dicitur: aliquando respectus: nonnunque habitudo. Interdum intellectualis discursus: et nomine alio comparatio nucupatur. Huius notitiam divini philosophi fummopere cupierunt: dum Metaphysicen opera in lucem prodere curarent. Hanc pro viribus naturales prosequti funt: ut Socrates: Plato: Aristoteles: caeterique omnes. Cum de rerum uniuvuersique natura agerent. Non enim aliud in rebus universis superioribus: scilicet et inferioribus quae debita earum adinvicem proportio seu habitudo queritur. Nunquam enim sacris litteris incumbentes: processionem sancti spiritus a patre et filio ex eorum

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reciproco amore causa tam in lingua calamoque explicare potuissent: nisi prius relationem inter eos patris ad silium: et econtra percepissent. Hanc preoculis summus opifex in caelestium terrestriumque rerum dispositione semper habuit. Dum orbium motus cursusque syderum et planetarum omnium ordinatissime disponeret. Haec quando aethera firmabat sursum: et appendebat fundamenta terrae: et librabat fontes aquarum: et mari terminum suum circundabat: legemque ponens aquis: ne transirent fines suos: cum eo erat cuncta componens. Que nam esset humano generi delectatio si ex tanta rerum diversitate proportio non oriretur? Cum saepe dicatur: varietas est que delectat. Quo pacto insuper in invisibilium raperetur amorem nisi habitudinem quandam creaturae ad creatorem cerneret. Et quamvis finiti ad infinitum proportio nulla esse predicetur: attingentie tamen inter ea proportio a sacris non negatur doctoribus. Naturales autem et ipsi (ut paulo ante diximus) persedulo rerum naturalium proportiones quaesivere: prout in eorum codicibus passim habetur. Presertim Aristotelis cuius opera pre aliis assidue premanibus habentur. Nam inde physico auditu proportionem motuum inter se subtilissime perscrutatur. Et ex decem predicamentis quo numero denario omnes philosophi contenti extitere: unum relationis seu ad aliquod huic tam sublimi indagatrici proportioni seu spatialiter addicauit. Omitto loca alia pene innumerabilia ubi de proportionibus et proportionalitatibus saepissime disseritur. Que omnia ( ut de naturalibus concludam:) medicis praesertim peritissimis (quibus omnium cura commissa est) nota sunt et essere de necessitate debent. Non n calidi et frigidi: humidi et sicci in medelis disponendis rectam rationem habebunt nisi gradum cuiuslibet predictarum nouerint quem postea ex multis proportionando qualitatibus: unam efficiunt egrotam ti corpori debite exhibemdam. Quo et Astronomi proportione relicta agerent: nnone velut amentes ceci que discurrerent. Narrent hii qui sentiunt: dicant egyptii ut Ptolomeus: Ali. Albategni,. Alfagranus, Geber. Albumaseri et ceteri omnes qui proportione previa peritissimi evassere. Qualiter corograpoi cosmographique. Marinus quem saepe Ptolom eus inpugnat Strabo et alii qui totius orbis situm nobis tabulis quibusdam accuratissime tradiderent tot si tanta simul unico libello complecti potuissent? nisi matrem divinum observassent proportionem. Dicant queso architecti omnes et diversarum machinarum inventores prisci et presentes: Pythius qui primus aedem minerve nobiliter architectatus est. Dinocrates: Archimedes: Vitruvius: Frontinus: Vegetius: et alii quamplures quae in aedificiorumque structuris summe excelluerunt: quoque memoriam persuse ruinae adhuc nobis asserunt quo medio talia ederint? Certe proportione duce se omnia prefissecrespondebunt. Quomodo pictores celeberrimi. Appeles, Miron, Policletus et caeteros quos historiae nominant aliquid laude dignum prospectivo aspectu suis posteris reliquissent. Si in eorum figuris liniamenta distantiasque debitas altitudines et latitudines proportionaliter non servassent. Lapicidae quoque seu lapidum sculptores Phidias: Praxiteles. Appollonius. Nestor et reliqui industria tali prediti: non ne eandem diligentissime proportionem

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marmoreis aeneisque statuis accomodarunt. prout indies frustis talium hinc inde repertis facile datur intelligi. Pariter et Musici :nil aliud in eorum melodiis: armoniisque querunt nisi modum debitum vocum et sonorum: hoc esti: Sesquialtera sesquitertia. Diapente: Diapason: et aliis huiusmodi proportionibus (teste Boetio) proportionatum. ut in auditorum auribus dulcius ac suavius resonent. et summam illis delectationem ingerant: quae sine proportione et proportionalitate minime Causari potest. Quem morem imitando poetae Carmina sua (eisdem fere mediis) Datilo: Iambo: Spondeo: Trocheo: Anapesto: Tribraco. Proceleumatico. Ceterisque proportionis loco utendo pedibus. Componunt. Necnon et rethores (ad istorum instar) Orationum suarum partes debitis. ac congruis numeris assignant. Hoc idem origo et fundamentum omnium liberalium artium grammatica observare videtur: dum normam recteloquendi recteque scribendi discere incipientibus tradit. gravi: acuto: circumflexoque: acentibus terminatam. Qua et via aequissimae sanctiones. Justiniana scilicet et canonica suas recte formarent sententias: si iustitiam utranque commutativam scilicet et destributivam non supponerent. Quarum altera videlicet distributiva penes geometricam tantum proportionem attendi comprobatur (ut in ethicis Aristoteles: et plato inde legibus et republica testantur) iuxta quam iustus iudex vivorum et mortuorum olim humano generi retribuet merita ac demerita omnium adinvicem proportionando ut ex sacris aperte elicitur litteris. Hanc assidue et commutativam observant rerum publicarum fautores dignissimi huius seculi negociatores res pecunia vendendo. emendoque seu quovis alio modo pertractando. Aliarum quoque unaquaeque mecanicarum industria suas debitas habet proportiones ipsam moderantes: experientia teste. Sed dum talia percurimus quid de arithmeticis geometrisque nostris dicemus: qui precipui inter alios semper habitae sunt: ut Pitagoras et Nicomacus: qui prirni numerorum apud graecos inventores fuisse perhibentur: quis apud latinos Boetius et Apuleius habeantur. Non ne hi ceteris diligentius proportionem servant: quam (teste Euclide) rationalem vocant. Geometre vero utrique indifferenter rationali scilicet et irrationali curam adhibent. Hec denique proportio infinitus thesaurus est hominibus quo qui usi sunt participes facti sunt amicitie dei propter disciplinae dona Commendati. Hanc ego proposse sine fictione didici et cupientibus sine invidia communico virtutem eius apertissime ostendendo. harum igitur proportionum et proportionalita tum Euclides necessariam cemens observantiam ut omnium que dixerit fructus uberior habeatur. De his ipsis disertissime hoc in quinto egit. Diffinitiones earundem premittens ac deinceps more suo conclusiones trigintaquator numero. (quibus iste totus complectitur liber) exarando. Et contra adversarium eas firmissime atque inrefragabiliter concludit. Qua propter siquis ad speculationem aliquam quacunque in facultate scientia: arteque: aspirat ad hunc properet fontem: a quo aquae vive semper flumina fluunt. Et super astra eius extolletur ingenium. Sed ut iam ad litteram veniamus res expostulat. Que sic incipit videlicet. pars est.

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13. Vasari, Lives, as in note 1 above, p.252. 14. Ibid., p.264. 15. Ibid., p.272. 16. Ibid., vol.II, pp.14-16 17. Ibid., vol. I, p.302 18. Paul Lawrence Rose, The Italian Renaissance of Mathematics, Geneva: Librairie Droz, 1975. 19. Margaret Daly Davis, Piero della Francesca's Mathematical Treatises, Ravenna: Longo editore, 1977. 20. Cf. Chastel, as in note 3, pp. 251-263. 21. See: Henry de Geymller. Les projets primitifs pour la basilique de Saint Pierre, Paris: J. Baudry, 1875, 2 vol. 22. Wolfgang Lotz, "Das Raumbild in der italienischen Architekturzeichung der Renaissance," Mitteilungen des Kunsthistorischen Instituts in Florenz, Florence, Bd. 7, 1953-1956, pp. 193-226. Cf. also his: Studies in Italian Renaissance architecture, Cambridge Mass., MIT Press, 1977. 23. G. Vasari, Lives, as in note 1 above, Vol. I, p. 326. 24. Giovanni Paolo Lomazzo, 1590, as in I.1, note 35, pp. 16-17, 52, 149-150. 25. See the author's study of Leonardo, as in I.1 note 14 for documentation and analysis of these claims. 26. See Sergio Marinelli, "The Author of the Codex Huygens," Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes, London, vol. 44, 1981, pp. 214-220, pl. 30-35. 27. Erwin Panofsky, "Die Perspektive als symbolische Form," Vortrge der Bibliothek Warburg 1924-1925. Leipzig, 1927, Taf.XIII, Abb.22. 28. Liliane Brion Guerry, Jean Plerin Viator. Sa place dans l'histoire de la perspective, Paris: Socit d'dition les belles lettres, 1962. (Les classiques de l'humanisme, Vol. VIII). 29. Ren Descartes et Beeckman, "Correspondence" (Breda, 26 mars 1619), (Copie Ms. Middlebourg, Provinciaal Bibliotheek Zeeland, Journal de Beeckman,

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fol. 288v) in: Oeuvres de Descartes, ed. Charles Adam et Paul Tannery, Paris: Leopold Cerf, vol. 8, 1908, pp. 156-157: Et certe, ut tibi nude aperiam quid moliar, non Lullij Artem brevem, sed scientiam penitus novam tradere cupio, qua generaliter solvi possint quaestiones omnes quae in quolibet genere quantitatis, tam continuae quam discretae, possunt proponi. 30. Ibid., p. 157: alia solvi non posse, nisi cum aliis lineis curvis, sed quae ex unico motu oriuntur, ideoque per novos circinos duci possunt, quos non minus certos existimo et geometricos, quam communis quo ducuntur circuli. 31. Rene Descartes, "Trait de l'homme" in: Oeuvres de Descartes, ed. Charles Adam et Paul Tannery, Paris: Leopold Cerf, 1909, vol. XI, p. 130: Ainsi que vous pouvez avoir vue, dans les grottes et les fontaines qui sont aux jardins de nos Roys que la seule force dont l'eau se meut en sortant de sa source est suffisante pour y mouvoir diverses machines et mesme pour les y faire iouer de quelques instrumens, ou prononcer quelques paroles, selon da diverse disposition des tuyaux qui la conduisent. 32. Jurgis Bultrusaitis, as in I.1, note 10, p. 41. 33. Jean Francois Nicron, La perspective curieuse, Paris, 1652 (as cited in Baltrusaitis, 1956, p. 41): Philon le Juif aux livre De specialibus legibus dit expressement en ces termes...que la vraye magie, ou la perfection des sciences consiste en la perspective, qui nous fait cognoistre et discerner plus parfaictement les plus beaux ouvrages de la nature et de l'art et qui a este estime de tous temps non seulement du commun des peuples, mais encore des plus puissans monarques de la terre. 34. See, for instance, Otto Mayr and Klaus Maurice, The Clockwork Universe: German Clocks and Automata, 1550-1650, New York: N. Watson, 1980. Originally: Die Welt als Uhr, Munich: Deutscher Kunstverlag, 1980; Cf. Klaus Maurice, Die deutsche Rderuhr: Zur Kunst und Technik des mechanischen Zeitmessers im deutschen Sprachraum, Munich: Beck,1976, 2 vol. 35. James Mitchell Collier, Linear Perspective in Flemish Painting and the Art of Petrus Christus and Dirk Bouts, Ph.D., University of Michigan, 1975.

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36. For a recent discussion of this problem see Marisa Dalai Emiliani, "Per amore dell'arte della segreta prospettiva..." in: Carlo Pedretti ed., Leonardo il Codice Hammer e la mappa di Imola, Florence: Giunti, 1985, pp. 185-186. 37. Hieronymus Rodler, ed., Perspectiva. Eyn schn ntzlich Buchlein...so sich der Kunst des Messens (Perspectiva zu latein genannt)...Simmeren: Hofdruckerei 1531. 38. See: Pierre de la Rame, (Ramus), Praelectiones in Ciceronis orationis octo consulares una cum ipsius vita per Joannem Thomam Freigium, Basel: P. Pernam, 1580, pp. 338-339. 39. Heinrich Kreisel, Die Kunst des deutschen Mbels, Munich: C.H. Beck, 1968. 40. See Maximilian Bobinger, Alt-Augsburger Kompassmacher, Augsburg: Hans Rsler Verlag, 1966. (Abhandlungen zur Geschichte der Stadt Augsburg. Schriftenreihe des Stadtarchivs Augsburg, 16). 41. Maximilian Bobinger, Christoph Schissler der ltere und der Jngere, Augsburg, Basel: Verlag der Brigg, 1954. Chapter 3 1. This was technically the first discussion of ground-plan and elevation in connection with perspective, although it is frequently assumed that Brunelleschi combined a ground plan and elevation in arriving at his construction. Indeed, Vasari, Lives of the artists, as in I.2, note 1, claims this in vol. 1, p. 272: He paid great attention to perspective, which was badly understood at the time, many errors being perpetrated, and spent much time over it, but at length he discovered unaided a method of getting it perfectly true; this was to trace it with the ground plan and elevation by means of intersecting lines, a useful addition to the art of design. Elsewhere, however, Vasari suggests that Paolo Uccello was the innovator, in his Lives, vol. 1, p. 232: But Paolo, without ever wasting a moment was always attracted by the most difficult things of art, and brought to perfection the method of representing buildings, to the tops of their cornices and roofs, in perspective from their plans and elevations. This was done by intersecting lines, diminishing at the centre; the point of view, whether high or low, being first decided. He laboured so hard over these difficulties that he invented a method and rules for planting figures firmly on their feet and for their gradual foreshortening and diminution in proportion as they recede, a matter that was previously left to chance. He also discovered the method

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of tracing the ribs and arches of vaulting, the foreshortening of floors by diminishing the receding beams, and the way to make round columns follow the turn made by the sharp corner of a house, doing this from a ground plan. 2. For an analysis, see the author's work: Leonardo, Studies I, as in I.1, note 14, pp.57-60, 68-86. 3. See: Gezenius ten Doesschate, De derde commentaar van Lorenzo Ghiberti in verband met de middeleuwesche optiek, Proefschrift, Utrecht, 1940. 4. For instance, Alberta, On Painting, as in I.1, note 13, pp. 47 and 49: Nor is this the place to discuss whether vision, as it is called resides at the juncture of the inner nerve or whether images are formed on the surface of the eye as on a living mirror... Let us omit the debate of philosophers where the original source of colours is investigated. Both of these passages are in the Latin text and are omitted altogether from the Italian version. 5. This quote is from the first English edition: Sebastian Serly, The second book of architecture, London: Printed for Robert Peake, 1611, fol. Ai v. 6. Pietro Accolti, Lo inganno de gl'occhi, Florence: Appresso Pietro Cecconcelli 1625, p. 116: E cosi grande l'autorita di Vitellione, unico, e principal capo della scuola de perspetttivi, che chiunque ardisca pronunciare egli haver falsamente, o dimostrato, o insegnato, puo di facile esser reputato, temerario, o ardito o molto... 7. Ibid., p. 116: "Falsa dimostrazione, e meno vera dottrina di Vitellione circa l'obliquo passaggio de i lumi, Cap. XVII." 8. Ibid., p. 13: "Che la prospettiva non sia altro in effetto che una rappresentativa sezione della piramide visiva." 9. Giacomo Barozza, il Vignola, Le due regole della prospettiva pratica, ed. Egnazio Danti, Rome, 1583, preface: Maestro Pietro della Francesca dal Borgo S. Sepolcro, del quale abbiamo oggi tre libri scritti a mano, eccellentissimamente disegnati. 10. Ibid., p. 49:

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Perche oltre alla descrittione delle figure rettilinee, apporta gran commodita al prospettivo il saperle trasmatare d'una nell'altra, ho voluto in queste tre seguenti propositioni mostrare il modo secondo la via commune non solamente di trasmutare il circolo e qual si voglia figura rettilinea in un altra, ma anco di accrescerle e diminuirle in qual si voglia certa proportione, accio in questo libro il prospettivo habbia tutto quello, che a cosi nobil pratica fa mestiere. 11. Guidobaldo del Monte, Perspectivae libri sex, Pesaro: Apud Hieronymum Concordiam, p. 1: Architecturam, atque picturam reliquas omnes anteire artes, quae citra manuum usum sola ingeniorum applicatione, atque solertim, quod intendunt, moliri, ac perficere nequeunt (quae propterea mechanicae appellantur) nemini certe egregia earum opera consideranti, ambigendum censeo. 12. Simon Stevin, Derde stuck der wisconstighe ghedachtnissen van de deursichtighe, Leiden: Ian Bouwensz, 1605: maer willen een voorghestelde verschaeulicke saeck volcomelick afteyckenen, met kennis der uirsaken en sign wisconstich bewijs. 13. The quote has been adapted from the first English edition of Serlio, as in note 5, fol. Aiv. 14. Pietro Cataneo, I quattro primi libri, Venice: Aldus, 1554, fol 1r: Quel che piu facci di bisogni all architetto e di quanto importanza gli sia l'essere buono prospettivo. 15. Ibid: Ma se l'architetto non sera prospettivo, non potra mai cosi bene ne honorarsi, ne mostrare per disegno il suo concetto, per eccellente disegnatore chei si fusse: e da se stesso sconscera di questa importanza gli sia il non essere nella prospettiva ben prattico. 16. The phrase il suo alzato per ordine di prospettivo appears in the following chapter headings I.VIII, IX, X, XIII, XVII, XVIII, XIX; III.introduction, II, VII, IX. Cf. Ibid, 44v: La figure qui appresso che segue rappresenta la meta del tempio nella parte interiore di ordine Corinto, tirato dalla sua pianta passata per ordine di prospettiva.

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17. Vincenzo Scamozzi, L'Idea della architettura, Venice: Expensis auctoris, 1617, 47: Poi la prospettiva, serve per rappresentare per via di linee artificiali tutte le cose, come dice anco Vitruvio, stando in certo determinato luogo: corrispondono a raggi nostri del vedere naturale, in modo tale che apportano a gli occhi nostri de specie e l'imagine vere, de gli edifici, che sono disegnati in iscorcio nelle scene e altrove. 18. Ibid.: e certo e mirabil cosa il vedere, che il piano delle tele, o delle tavole, con colori, siano talmente ben disposte, e lineate dall'arte, che a quelli, che le mirano paiano che siano di rilievo, e piu alto, e piu basso. 19. Ibid.: e di questa facolta sino nella nostra prima gioventu ne abbiamo scritto sei libri, ne quali e molto numero di disegni, e cosi delle cose superficiali e in piano, come de corpi e parti di cinque ordini, i quadri speriamo in Dio di metterli in luce, dopo questa nostra lunga e faticosa opera d'architettura. 20. Cf. Rodler (1531). An example at the turn of the 17th century is Jan Vredeman de Vries, Perspective, id est, celeberrima ars inspicientis...perutilis ac necessaria, omnibus pictoribus, sculptoribus, statuariis, fabri ferrariis, architectis, inventoribus caementariis, scrinariis, fabrilignariis, et omnibus artium amatoribus, qui huic arti operam dare volent, majori cum voluptate, et minori cum labore, Leiden: Hondius, 1604. 21. Jean Dubreuil, La perspective pratique, necssaire a tous peintres, graveurs, architectes, brodeurs, sculpteurs, orferres, tapisseurs et autres qui se meslent de desseigner, Paris: Chez Jean Du Puis, 1643-1649. 3 vol. 22. Giovanni Battista Benedetti, Diversarum speculationeum liber, Turin: Apud haeredem Nicolai Bevilaquae, 1585, p. 119: "hunc solum esse verum modum." 23. For a more detailed discussion of these developments see the appendix to the author's work on Leonardo, as in I.1, note 14. 24. Plato, Timaeus, trans. H.D.P. Lee, Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1965, pp. 72-78. 25. See: Regiomontanus, "Commensurator," ed. Wilhelm Blaschke und Gunther Schoppe, in: Abhandlungen der Akademie der Wissenschaften und der Literatur in Mainz, Mathematisch-naturwissenschaftliche Klasse, Wiesbaden, Nr. 7, Jahrgang, 1956.

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26. Wenzel Jamnitzer, Perspective corporum regularium...durch einen newen behenden und gerechten Weg der vor nie in gebrauch ist gesehen, Nrnberg, 1567. 27. Ibid.: wie auss denselbigen funff Corpern one Endt gar viel andere Corper mancherley Art und gestalt gemacht unnd gefunden werden mgen. 28. Julius Hoffman, Die Kupferstiche des Meisters PP mit der Schlinge, Vienna: Gesellschaft fur vervielfltigende Kunst, 1911. 29. See Linda Dalrymple Henderson, The Fourth Dmension and non-Euclidean Geometry, Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1983. 30. This problem has been studied in an unpublished essay by Geoffrey Smedley, "Notes concerning Piero della Francesca's Prospectiva pingendi," unpublished Typescript, Vancouver: University of British Columbia, c. 1986. 31. Giovanni Paolo Lomazzo, as in I.1 note 36, 1585, pp. 270, 175, cf. 100, 320; 1590 as in I.1, note 35, 108, 150, cf. 16. 32. See the author's study of Leonardo, as in I.1, note 14, pp. 202-239 33. See: Sergio Marinelli, as in I.2, note 26. 34. E.g. Serlio, as in note 5, Bk. III, A1v-A2r: with part of the sciographies of the most famous antiquityes of Rome...and that I may goe forward orderly in these antiquities. The first figure shall be the ichnography. The second, the orthography, the third, the sciography. This led Barbaro, 1568, p. 129-130 to note: che la prospettiva era molto necessaria all'architetto, e cosi hanno interpretato quella parola sciographia per la prospettiva, la quale e come una adombratione. Molti anche hanno letto scenographia, in luogo di sciographia, & hanne inteso lo istesso, cioe la descrittione delle scene, laquale ricerca miribilmente l'uso della perspettiva... These debates continued in the seventeenth century. See, for instance, Vitruvius, De architectura, Amsterdam: L. Elzevirium, 1649, page 6, note b or Claude Perrault's edition of Vitruvius, Les dix livres d'architecture, Paris, 1684, p. 10, note 7 beginning: Barbaro a mis sciographie au lieu de scenographie que Hermolaus Barbaro en ses gloses sur Pline a restitue avec beaucoup de raison, puisque la definition que Vitruve apporte du mot dont il s'agit, et qui est

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proprement celle de la perspective convient tout a fait au mot de la scenographie... Professor Werner Oechslin (Zrich) is working on this problem. 35. Daniele Barbaro, La pratica della perspettiva, Venice, 1568, p. 129-158: parte quarta, nella quale si tratta della scenographia, cioe descrittione delle scene. 36. Giacomo Barozzi, il Vignola, Le due regole, ed. Egnazio Danti, Rome: Zanetti, 1563, pp. 37. Antonio Manetti, The Life of Brunelleschi, ed. Howard Saalman, University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press, 1970, p. 54. 38. Ibid., p. 54: Since they undertook excavations to find the junctures of the membering and to uncover objects and buildings in many places where there was some indication, they had to hire porters and other laborers at no small expense. No one else attempted such work or understood why they did it. On the question of ruins see: Paolo Arrigoni e Achille Bertarelli, Piante e vedute di Roma e del Lazio, Milan: Castello Sforzesco, 1939. 39. Daniele Barbaro, as in note 35, p. 159: Parte quinta, nella quale si espone una bella e secreta parte di perspettiva. 40. Egnazio Danti, as in note 36, p. 41. See Carlo Pedretti, "Un ritratto anamorfico di Francesco I, di probabile invenzione Vinciana," in: Ibid, Documenti e memorie rigunrdanti Leonardo da Vinci a Bologna e in Emilia, Bologna: Editoriale Fiammenghi, 1953, pp.121-123. 42. Julius Deininger, Eine neue Theorie der malerischen Perspektive und deren praktischen Resultate, Vienna: Gerlach und Weidling, 1914, p.14: Daraus aber folgt, dass es einzig und allein auf einer solchen Kugeloberflche mglich ist, alle diese Lngenmasse, das heisst alle perspektivischen Dimensionen in ihren richtigen Zusammenhnge und ihrer richtigen Grsse graphisch darzustellen.

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43. Adelbert Ames, Jr. and C.A. Proctor, "Dioptrics of the Eye," Journal of the Optical Association of America, Rochester, vol. 5, 1921, p. 22. The article covers pp. 22-84. 44. Ivan Jobin, Ligne droite on ligne courbe? Cone ou sphre optique, Montreal: Editions Albert Levesque, 1932, p. 13: La seconde partie s'attache dmontrer que la ligne courbe, dtermin par les principes de la sphre optique, constitue, aujourd'hui une thorie de vision suprieure celle de la ligne droite tablie selons les principes du cne optique. 45. For an introduction to this history see Massimo Scolari, "L'idea de modello," Eidos, Asolo, vol. 2, 1989, 16-39. 46. Cf. Peter Jeffrey Booker, A History of Engineering Drawing, London: Chatto and Windus, 1963. 47. Ptolemy, L'optique de Claude Ptolme, ed. A. Lejeune, Louvain: Publications universitaires de Louvain, 1956, p. 74 (II. 124): Et ideo pictores domorum constituunt colores rerum quas remotas volunt ostendere, aeros latentes. Lejeune notes (104): C'est le principe de la perspective arienne. Meme sujet dans un intrressant fragment papyrologique publie par K. Wessely, dans Wiener Studien, Vienna, XIII, 1891, pp. 319-323. 48. Pompilius Azalus, De omnibus nebus naturalibus quae continentur in mundo, Venice: Apud Octavianum Scotum, 1544, fol. 74v: Ab hae naturali experientia, ars pictoria optimus canones accepit, ut in libello and Jacopum Bellinum venetum pictorem insignem certi descripsi, quibusque modis colores obscuros et claros opponere sciret, tali cum ratione quod non solum unius imaginis partes relevatae videruntur in plano depictae, verum extra manum vel pedum porrigere crederentur inspectae, et eorum quae in eadem superficie hominum animalium vel montium equantur quaedam per miliaria distare apparent atque ejusmodi. Is quidem pingendi docet propinqua claris, remota obscuris, mediasque permiutis sub coloribus tingi debere. 49. Cf. Janis Clearfield-Bell, Color and Theory in Seicento Art, Zaccolini's Prospettiva del Colore and the Heritage of Leonardo, Ph.D., Brown University, 1983.

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50. Louis Clement de Brunel de Varennes, Mtroscopographie, Paris: Troyes, 1830, p. 19: Nous divisons la perspective en deux principales sections. La premiere est la perspective linaire; la seconde est la perpective arienne, dans laquelle sont comprises la thorie des ombres, celle des reflets, et la rflexion des objets dans l'eau et sur les surfaces polies. 51. Armand-Denis Vergnaud, Manuel de perspective, Paris: Roret, 1835, pp. 7475: Dfinition - La perspective pour but de reprsenter sur une seule et meme surface, l'ensemble et les dtails des objets que la nature rpartit distances ingales sur des surfaces varies l'infini: il est, pour atteindre ce but, deux parties bien distinctes dans la perspective. L'une doit dterminer les contours apparens des corps et leurs positions respectives sur les differentes surfaces ou ils se trouvent, l'autre doit saisir la couleur meme de ces objets, avec toutes les modifications que lui font subir et les accidens de la lumire et les couches plus ou moins paisses d'air atmosphrique qui les sparent les uns des autres. La premire est une science positive, ou l'on est guid rigoureusement par les principes les plus simples de la gomtrie: c'est la perspective linaire, sans laquelle on ne peut tre dessinateur. La seconde, qui semblerait au premier abord pouvoir s'obtenir d'une manire non moins rigoureuse, l'aide de la gomtrie et de la physique, constitue la perspective arienne, sans laquelle on ne peut tre peintre: mais il ne faut pas esprer en ateindre la magie des couleurs et la sublimit, si l'on n'est pas dou de cette sensibilit exquise et de cette chaleur d'imagination, tincells du feu sacre sans lequel il ne peut exister de vritable artiste. En un mot on peut, l'aide de la perspective linaire, produire de belles statues dont les formes seront pures et agrables, mais pour lesquelles la perspective arienne ne cessera jamais d'tre le souffle crateur de Promthe. 52. Barnab Brisson, Thorie des ombres et de la perspective, Paris: Bachelier, 1838, p. 24: On voit qu'ici, comme dans la thorie des ombres, on doit admettre deux parties distinctes: l'une est purement gomtrique, et son objet est de dterminer d'une manire prcise sur le tableau la position de chaque point reprsent; l'autre pour objet la recherche de la teinte d'ombre et de lumire qu'on doit donner chaque partie du tableau, et c'est par des considrations physiques qu'on peut en gnral la traiter. Cette dernire partie, qu'on designe sous le nom de Perspective arienne, rentre entirement dans le cercle des recherches qui nous essaierons d'exposer plus tard, pour completer la thorie des ombres.

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53. Jules De La Gournerie, Trait de perspective linaire, Paris: Dalmont et Dunod, 1859, p.1: La Perspective est l'art de reprsenter les objets sur un tableau en conservant leur apparence. Elle est linaire ou arienne, suivant qu'elle s'occupe des formes ou de la coloration. Il ne sera pas question dans cet ouvrage de la perspective arienne. 54. Ernst Wilhelm Brcke, Principes scientifiques des beaux arts, Paris: Germer, Baillire et Cie., 1878, particularly, pp. 62-65. 55. Dictionnaire de pdagogie et d'instruction primaire, ed. F. Buisson, Paris: Hachette, 1882, vol. 2, p. 1555: Perspective Pratique - La perspective est l'art de reproduire sur une surface plane l'aspect des objets tels qu'ils se prsentent nous dans l'espace. La perspective linaire tudie la rproduction des contours des objets; la perspective arienne s'occupe plus spcialement des modifications qu'apporte aux ombres et aux teintes la couche d'air interpose entre les objets et l'oeil du spectateur. 56. Louis Delaistre, Cours complet de dessin linaire, Paris: Gauthier Villars, 1894, p.1: La perspective, considre dans son ensemble, est l'art de reprsenter les objets sur une surface plane suivant leurs effets d'optique; c'est--dire selon les lois de la vision et celles de la lumire, ce qui fait qu'on la divise en deux classes: l'une que l'on nomme linaire, l'autre que l'on nomme arienne. La perspective linaire se fait par les lignes seules. La perspective arienne se fait par la dgradation des couleurs rsultant de l'loignement de la lumire comme de l'loignement successifs des objets, ainsi que de la qualit plus ou moins intense des vapeurs terrestres qui s'interposent entre l'oeil du spectateur et ces memes objets. 57. Leon Battista Alberti, On painting, as in I.1, note 13, p. 82: But I should like the [highest level of attainment] in industry and art to rest, as the learned maintain, on knowing how to use black and white. It is well worth all your study and diligence to know how to use these two well because light and shade make things appear in relief. The original reads: Tutta la somma industria e arte sta in sapere usare il biancho e il nero, pero che il lume e ombra fanno parere le cose rilevate.

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58. Piero della Francesca, De prospectiva pingendi, ed. G. Nicco Fasola, Florence: G.C. Sansoni, 1942, p. 63: Colorare intendiamo dare i colori commo nelle cose se dimostrano, chiari et scuri secondo che i lumi li devariano. 59. See the authors study of Leonardo, as in I.1, note 14., pp.278-305. 60. Alberti, as in I.1, note 13, pp. 71. 61. For an introduction to these problems see: Thomas Da Costa Kaufmann, "The perspective of shadows: the history of the theory of shadow projection," Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes, London, Vol. 32, 1975, pp. 258-287. 62. Domenico Tessari, Applicazioni della geometria descrittiva. Vol. 1. La teoria delle ombre e del chiaro scuro, ad uso delle universita...degli ingegneri, architetti e disegnatori, Turin: Camilla e Bertolero, 1880. 63. E.g. J. J. Gibson, The Ecological Approach to Visual Perception, Boston: Houghton Mifflin Co., 1979. Chapter 4 1. As Panofsky noted in "Die Perspektive als symbolische Form," as in I.2 note 27, p. 291, the term goes back to Boethius, Analytica posteriorum Aristotelis, Interpretatio, I.7, I.10, (Opera, Basel 1570, pp. 527, 538). 2. See, for instance, Aristotle, Analytica posteriora, trans. G.R.G. Mure in: The Works of Aristotle, ed. W.D. Ross, London: Oxford University Press, 1928, (Bk. I.13), 78b 35-79a 5, 10-20, Cf. Ibid., vol. II, Physica, trans. R. P. Hardie and R. K. Gaye, 1930, 194a 9-12. 3. On the question of mediaeval classification of the sciences see James A. Weisheipl, O.P., "The nature, scope and classification of the sciences," Studia mediewistyczne, Warsaw, Vol. 18, 1977, pp. 85-101 and his "Classification of the sciences in mediaeval thought," Mediaeval Studies, Toronto, vol. 27, 1965, pp. 5490. 4. On the history of the seven liberal arts see: Joseph Maritan, Problme de la classification des sciences d'Aristote Saint Thomas, Thse, Paris, 1901. 5. John Pecham and the Science of Optics. Perspectiva communis, ed. David C. Lindberg, Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1970, p. 60:

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inter physice considerationis studia lux iocundius afficit meditantes. Inter magnalia mathematicorum certitudo demonstrationis extollit preclarius investigantes. Perspectiva igitur humanis traditionibus recte prefertur, in cuius area linea radiosa demonstrationum nexibus complicatur, in qua tam physice quam mathematice gloria reperitur utriusque floribus adornata. 6. Gregorius Reisch, Margarita philosophica, Basel: Michael Furterius, 1517, fol. aiiv: 1 Grammaticae, 2 Dialecticae, 3 Rhetoricae, 4 Arithmeticae, 5 Musicae, 6 Geometrie elementa, 7 Astronomie, 8 Naturalis philosophie principia, 9 Originem primordialem et productionem omnium verum naturalium. Alchimie, 10 Anime vegitative et sensitive, 11 Anime rationalis, 12 Philosphia moralis. 7. Joachim Fortius Ringelbergius, Opera, Lyons: Apud Gryphium, 1531: Grammaticen, Dialecticen, Rhetoricca, Mathematicen (Sphaera, Institutiones astronomiae, Cosmographia, Liber de tempore, Tabula de tempore, Optice, Chaos Mathematicum), Divinatio, Communis cuiusdam naturae sunt (Chaos, Experimenta, Liber de homine). 8. John Dee, Mathematicall Praeface annexed to: Euclides, The Elements, trans. H. Billingsley, London: I. Daye, 1570. Cf. John Dee, The Mathematicall Preface to the Elements of Geometrie of Euclid of Megara, ed. A. Debus, New York: Science History Publications, 1975. 9. Ioannis Valentini Andreae, Collectaneorum mathematicorum decades XI. Centum et decem tabulis aeneis exhibitae, Tbingen: Typis Iohan Alexandri Cellii, 1614: Geometrica, Arithmetica, Statica, Astronomica, Gnomonica, Authomatica, Optica, Architectonica, Munitoria, Mensurata, Lineata. 10. Robert Fludd, Utriusque cosmi maioris scilicet et minoris metaphysica, physica atque technica, Oppenheim: aere Johan-Theodori de Bry, 1617, fol. 3: Arithmeticam, Musicam, Geometriam, Perspectivam, Artem Pictoriam, Artem Militarem, Motus Scientiam, Temporis Scientiam, Cosmographiam, Astrologiam, Geomantiam. 11. Josephus Blancanus, Sphaera mundi, Bologna: typis S. Bonomij, 1620, pp.388-390: 1 Geometria, 2 Arithmetica, 3 Optica, seu Perspectiva, 4 Mechanica, 5 Musica, 6 Astronomia.

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12.

Ibid., p.390: 1 Geometria practica, 2 Arithmetica practica, 3 Perspectiva practica, 4 Mechanica practica, 5 Musica practica, 6 Astronomia practica.

13. Johann Ciermanns, Annus positionum mathematicarum quas defendit ac demonstravit Perill. Dom. D. Wolffgangus Philippus Iacobus Unverzagt, Baro de Ebenfurt, Louvain: In Collegio Societatis Iesu, 1641, Ordo disputationum: Mense October Novembri Decembri Ianuvario Februario Martio Aprili Maio Iunio Iulio Augusto Septembri Geometricae Arithmeticae Opticae Staticae Hydrostaticae Nauticae Architectonicae Polemicae De machinis bellicis Geographicae Astronomicae Chronologicae

Optics, he further subdivided into: Perspectivae, Orthographica, Scenographica, Practica, Compendiosa, Sciographica, Curiosa, Problemata. 14. Daniel Schwenter, Deliciae physico mathematicae, Nrnberg: Jeremiae Dumlers, 1651: I. II. III. IV. V. VI. VII. VIII. IX. X. XI. XII. XIII. XIV. XV. Arithmetica Geometria Sterometria Musica Optica Perspectiv Catoptrica Astronomia,Astrologia Gnomonica,Thaumatopoetica Statica Motum Pyrobolia Pneumatica Hydraulica Calligraphia Architecturam Rechenkumst Feldmessen Messung Crperlicher Ding Singkunst Sehkunst Spigelkunst Sternseher,Sternenkunst Zubereitung der Sonnen und Schlaguhren Wag und Gewichtkunst Kunstliche Bewegung Feuer Lufft Wasser Schreibkunst Baukunst u. Handwercker

286

XVI.

Chymia

und andere Kunsten

15. R.P. Claudii Francisei Millet Dechales, Cursus seu mundus mathematicus, Lyons: Apud Anissonios, 1690, 4 vol, Tractatus: I Euclidis libri XIV II Theodosii sphaerica III De Sectionibus conicis IV Arithmetica V Trigonometria VI Algebra, Hypotheseon Cartesianarum refutatio VII Geometria practica VIII Mechanices IX Statica X Geographia XI De magnete XII Architectonica civilis XIII Ars tignaria XIV De lapidum sectione XV Architectura militaris XVI Hydrostatica XVII De fontibus et fluviis XVIII De machinis hydraulicis XIX De navigatione XX Optica XXI Perspectiva XXII Catoptrica XXIII Dioptrica XXIV Musica XXV Pyrotechnia XXVI Astrolabium XXVII Gnomonica XXVIII Astronomia XXIX Astrologia XXX App. ad Astronomiam seu Tract. de Meteoris XXXI Kalendarium 16. Catalogi librorum impressorum bibliotecae regiae, Gttingen, tomus XI.V, Mathematicae: 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. Geometria speculativa et practica, Arithmetica, Algebra Optica, Catoptrica, Dioptrica Cosmographia, De sphaera, globis, etc. Astronomia Gnomonica

287

6. Astrologia Judiciaria 7. Physiognomia. Chyromantia et aliae artes Divinatrices 8. Architectura civilis 9. Architectura militaris 10. Ars militaris 11. Ars nautica 12. Ars Hydraulica et Hydrostatica. Machinae 13. Ars pictoria et sculptoria 14. Ars scriptoria 15. Musica 16. Artes mechanicae et illiberales 17. Pierre Hrigone, Cursus mathematicus...nova, Paris: Piget, 1644: T.1 Euclides Elementorum lib. 15 appendicem geometriae planorum Data. Apollonii Pergei de loco resoluto lib. 5. Doctrinam angularium sectionum. T.2 Continens arithmeticam practicam computum ecclesiasticum et algebram cum ratione componendi ac demonstrandi per regressum sive repetitionem vestigiorum analyseos T.3 Continens constructionum tabularium sinum et logarithmorum cum earum usu in anatoxism et triangulorum rectilineorum dimensione geometricam practicam, artem muniendi, militam et mechanicas. T.4 Continens sphaerae mundi doctrinam, geographiam. T.5 Continens opticam, catoptricam, dioptricam, perspectivam, sphaericorum trigonometriam, theoricas planetarum...gnomonicam et musicam. T.6 Continens geometricas aequationum cubicarum purarum, atque affectarum effectiones 18. Jacques Ozanam, Cours de mathematique, Paris: Jombert, 1697: T.1 T.2 T.3 T.4 T.5 Introduction aux mathmatiques et les elemens d'Euclide L'aritmtique, la trigonomtrie et les tables de sinus La gomtrie La mchanique et la perspective La gographie et la gnomonique

19. Christian von Wolff, Elementa matheseos universae, Halle: Rengerianum, 1730-1738:

288

T.1 Que commentationem de methodo mathematica, arithmeticam, geometriam, trigonometriam planam et analysin, tam finitorum quam infinitorum T.2 Mechanicum cum statica, hydrostaticam, aerometriam atque hydraulicam T.3 Opticam, perspectivam, catoptricam, dioptricam, sphaerica et trigonometria sphaericam atque astronomiam tam sphaericam quam theoricam T.4 Geographiam cum hydrographia, chronologiam, gnomonicam, pyrotechniam, architecturam militarum atque civilem. 20. Johann Nikolaus Frobes, Encyclopaediae mathematicae memorialis, Helmstedt: Schnorr, 1743-1746: Pt. 1 Succincta matheseos purae, hoc est arithmeticae, geometriae ac trigonometriae delineatio Pt. 2 Succincta mechanicae, hydrostaticae, aerometriae atque hydraulicae... Pt. 3 Succincta pyrotechniae, atque architecturae militaris pariter ac civilis... Pt. 4 Succincta opticae, catoptricae, dioptricae et perspectivae... Pt. 5 Succincta astronomiae... Pt. 6 Succincta geographiae, chronologiae et gnomonicae... 21. Heinrich Wilhelm Clemm, Mathematisches Lehrbuch, Stuttgart: bey Johann Benedict Mezler, 1764: Der arithmetischen Wissenschaften erstes Hauptstuck, von der Rechnung der Zahlen zweites Hauptstuck, von der Buchstabenrechnung drittes Hauptstuck, von der praktischen Rechenkunst Der geometrischen Wissenschaften erstes Hauptstuck, von der gemeinen oder Elementar-Geometrie zweytes Hauptstuck, von der Trigonometrie zweytes Hauptstuck 1. Kap von der ebenen Trigonometrie zweytes Hauptstuck 2. Kap von der sphrischen Trigonometrie drittes Hauptstuck, von der praktischen Geometrie viertes Hauptstuck, von der hheren Geometrie Der statischen Wissenschaften erstes Hauptstuck, von der Statik, sonst Mechanik zweytes Hauptstuck, von der Hydrostatik drittes Hauptstuck, von der Aerometrie

289

vierdtes Hauptstuck,von der Hydraulik Der optischen Wissenschaften erstes Hauptstuck, von der Optik besonders zweytes Hauptstuck, von der Catoptrik drittes Hauptstuck, von der Dioptrik viertes Hauptstuck, von der Perspectiv 22. Johann Nikolaus Martius, Unterricht in der natrlichen Magie, vllig umgearbeitet von Johann Christian Wiegleb, Berlin and Stettin: bei Friedrich Nicolai, 1786, etc.: I Elektrische Kunststucke II Magnetische " III Optische " IV Chemische " V Mechanische " VI Rechen " VII Oekonomische " VIII Karten " 23. Abraham Gotthelf Kstner, Anfangsgrnde der angewandten Mathematik, Gottingen: Vandenhoek und Ruprecht, 1792: Abth. 1 Mechanische und optische Wissenschaften Abth. 2 Astronomie, Geographie, Chronologie und Gnomonik 24. Johan Friedrich Lorenz, Grundriss der reinen und angewandten Mathematik, Helmstedt: Fleckeisen, 1798-1800: Th. 1 Grundriss der Arithmetik und Geometrie Th. 2 Grundriss der mechanischen optischen und astronomischen Wissenschaften Th. 3 Grundriss der allgemeinen Grossenrechnung 25. We have made no attempt here to be exhaustive. There was another tradition in the eighteenth century which skipped optics altogether in lists of the mathematical sciences. For our purposes the following five examples will suffice: Allain Manesson Mallet, La gomtrie pratique, Paris: Anisson, 1702: T.1 T.2 T.3 T.4 Les lmens de la gomtrie La trigonomtrie La planimtrie La steromtrie

290

Benjamin Hederich, Anleitung zu den furnehmsten mathematischen Wissenschaften, bennantlich der arithmetica, geometria, architectura, astronomia und gnomonica, Wittenberg: Zimmermann, 1710. Jakob Hermann, Abrg des mathmatiques, St. Petersburg: Acadmie impriale des sciences, 1728, 2 vol.: T.1 L'arithmtique, la gomtrie et la trigonomtrie T.2 L'astronomie et la gographie T.3 La fortification Abbe Deidier, La mesure des surfaces et des solides par l'arithmtique des infinis et les centres de gravit, Paris: Jombert, 1740-1741: S.1 Le calcul diffrentiel et le calcul expliqus et appliqus la gomtrie S.2 La mchanique gnrale contenant la statique, l'airomtrie, l'hydrostatique et l'hydraulique 25. Georg Gottlieb Schmidt, Anfangsgrnde der Mathematik, Frankfurt: Varrentrapp, 1814-1816: Abth. 1 Statik, Hydrostatik, Aerostatik und Mechanik fester Krper Abth. 2 Hydraulik und Maschinenlehre 26. John Dee, Mathematical Praeface, as in note 8 above:

27. Leonard Christoph Sturm, Tractatus de natura et constitutione matheseos, Frankfurt: Schrey, 1706, p. 308. Generalis Theoretica Lucis & umbra Ithyoptica quantitatis declarans figurae phaenomena situs,& numeri motus reflexione radiorii coloribus reflexis speculis planis speculis sphaericis refractione refractione colerata lentium forma lentium compositione

Specialis Catoptrica agens de Dioptrica agens de Optica est vel Technica

291

Perspectiva Effectiva Planisphaerica

Verticalis unita sv. pictoria separata sv.scenica Horizontalis Anamorphotica Ithyoptica Catoptrica Dioptrica

28. Paul Guldin, De Centro gravitatis, Vienna: G. Gelbhaar, 1635-1641, p. 20: Proprie Optica, ut Perspectiua Prospectiua OPTICA Catoptrica, de Speculis Orthographica Stereographica Scenographica Planis Convexis Concauis Ustorijs

Dioptrica Diocatoptrica 29. Theodosius Haesel, Geistliche Perspectiva, Dresden: W. Seyffert, 1652: Brevis synopsis disciplinarum mathematicarum: Generalis OPTICA Recto seu Directo in Specialis Proponitur sub triplici radio Reflexo in Catoptrica sive Speculis Ichnographia Orthographia Scenographia Sciographia Planis Concavis Convexis

Refracto seu Vitrum infracto in Aquam mesoptica vel per Aerem 30. Johann Christoph Adelung, Kurzer Begriff menschlicher Fertigkeiten, Leipzig: Christian Gottlieb Hertel, 1781, pp. 258-258: Die Perspektive theilet sich brigens in die Linearperspecktive, welche durch Hlfe der Geometrie die richtige Verkrzung der geraden Linien, z.B, an den Theilen eines Gebudes lehret; in die Luftperspective, welche

292

ganz in das Fach des Malers einschlgt, und Licht und Schatten nach den Vernderungen bestimmen lehret, welche die Farbe der Luft in einer gewissen Entfernung an den Krpern und ihren Farben hervorbringet; und in die Spiegelperspective, welche unordentlich und verzerrt scheinende Figuren zeichnen lehret, welche die sphrischen, komischen und anderen Spiegel wieder in ihrer ordentliches Gestalt darstellen. I am grateful to Professors Loris and Maria Rita Sturlese for this quote. 31. These are cited in note 13 above. 32. Wiegleb, as in note 22 above, vol. III. Optische Kunststcke: Das Auge und dessen Nachahmung Die curiose Perspektive Planspiegel Hohl und erhabene Spiegel Prisma und prismatischen Farben Erhabene und hohle Glaser Perspektiv Instrumente und Maschinen zum Zeichnen. 33. Julius von Schlosser, Die Kunstliteratur, as in Introduction, note 2, 1924, (IV.1), p. 227; cf. 1977, ed. Kurz, pp. 259-260. 34. Erwin Panofsky, "Die Perspektive als symbolische Form," as in I.2, note 27, p. 274. 35. Leonardo da Vinci, Treatise on Painting [Codex Urbinas 1270], trans. A. Philip McMahon, Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1956, vol. II, fol. 231r: Delle ombrosita et chiarezze de monti...Prospettiva commune. 36. On this copy of John Peckham's Perspectiva communis, now in Milan, Bibliotheca Ambrosiama, Cod. Inc. 1105 see: Zenale e Leonardo. Tradizione e rinovamento della pittura lombarda, ed. Mauro Natale, Alessandra Mottola Molfino e Marisa Dalai Emiliani, Milan: Electa, 1983, p. 165. 37. Louis Leger Valle, Thorie de L'Oeil, Paris: Baillire, 1844, pp.ix-x: Tel tait l'tat de la science lorsque, en 1821, nous publiames le Trait de la science du dessin. Dans cet ouvrage, nous considerons la peinture, le dessin, dans ses diffrents genres, et gnralement l'art d'imiter les objets de manire produire plus ou moins d'illusion, comme une application des rgles au moyen desquelles on peut tromper l'oeil. La thorie de la vision sert donc de base notre trait ou elle est expose avec quelque dtail, et

293

souvent envisage sous des aspects nouveaux. Dans cet ouvrage, dont la perspective et les ombres sont des parties importantes, la gomtrie nous guide constamment, et elle nous a conduit une explication de l'achromatisme de l'oeil fonde sur la non-homogenit du corps vitre. 38. John Ruskin, The Elements of Perspective, London: Smith, Elder and Co., 1859, pp. 1-3. 39. Ibid., pp. 99 ff. 40. Armond Thophile Cassagne, Pratique de la perspective, Paris: Claude Fouraut et fils, 1879, pp. 18, 50. 41. Jules De La Gournerie, Trait de perspective linaire, Paris, Dalmont et Dunod, 1859, pp. xix-xx: La Perspective est un art graphique spcial; elle prsente des difficults pratiques qui lui sont propres et qui, dans le courant de plusieurs sicles, ont occup un grand nombre de savants et d'artistes. Les auteurs qui l'ont traite comme une simple application de la Gomtrie descriptive n'ont pas pu lui donner les dveloppements necssaires. Il y a d'ailleurs lieu de croire que plusieurs d'entre eux avaient ddaign d'tudier les anciens ouvrages. Les lves de Monge croyaient, en effect, presque tous, que les arts graphiques ne presentaient avant leur matre qu'incertitude et confusion. On trouve dans les crits de plusieurs des plus clbres d'entre eux des assertions tout a fait rrones cet gard. 42. See, for instance, Hermann von Helmholtz, Handbuch der physiologischen Optik, Hamburg, Leipzig: Teubner, 1856. 43. Panofsky, as in I.2, note 27, pp. 265, 301. Cf. the author's: "Panofsky's perspective: a half century later" in: Marisa Dalai Emiliani, ed., La prospettiva rinascimentale, Florence: Centro Di, 1980, p. 567. 44. A history of professions mentioned in title pages would make a very interesting topic of study. 45. For a list of model books see: R. W. Scheller, A History of Mediaeval Model Books, Haarlem: De Erven F. Bohn N.V., 1963. 46. The standard edition remains: Villard de Honnecourt, Kritische Gesamtausgabe des Bauhttenbuches Ms. Fr. 19093 der Pariser National Bibliothek, ed. R. Hahnlohser, Vienna: A. Schroll, 1935. 2nd ed. Graz: Akademische Druck und Verlagsanstalt, 1972.

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47. For an introduction to this vast literature see: Leonardo Olschki, Geschichte der neusprachlichen wissenschaftlichen Literatur, Heidelberg: Winter, 1919-1922, 2 vol. and Bertrand Gilles, Les ingnieurs de la Renaissance, Paris: Hermann, 1964. 48. For a good introduction see Lawrence Wright, Perspective in Perspective, London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1983. The deeper problems involved in these distinctions have greatly interested my mentor Sir Ernst Gombrich: e.g., Art and Illusion, Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1960. 49. For an introduction see Edmond R. Kiely, Surveying Instruments. Their History-Classroom Use. New York: Bureau of Public Teachers College, 1947 (National Council of Teachers of mathematics 19th Yearbook). 50. Franz Reuleaux, Theoretische Kinematik Grundzge einer Theorie des Machinenwesens. Braunschweig: Vieweg, 1875. English trans. Alex B.W. Kennedy, Kinematics of Machinery. Outlines of a Theory of Machines, London: Macmillan, 1876. 51. Very little has been done on the history of this subject. Useful is Booker, as in I.3 note 46 above and a dissertation by Joachim Kuns, Betrachtungen zur Geschichte der technischen Zeichnungen, Dissertation, Rheinisch-Westflischen Technischen Hochschule, Aachen, 1980. 52. Pierre Larousse, Grand dictionnaire universel du XIX siecle, Paris: Administration du grand dictionnaire universel, 1870, vol. 6, p. 592: Dessin lineaire. Le genre se divise en plusieurs branches suivant le but que l'on se propose et la nature des objects a representer. Il comprend le trac des pures de gometrie lmentaire, descriptive et analytique; la perspective ordinaire et isomtrique; les dessins d'architecture et de machines la topographie. 53. Leonardo da Vinci, as in note 35, fol. 167-171: "De panni." 54. Jost Amman, Kunstbchlein, Frankfurt: Romanus Beatus in Verlegung Johann Feyrabends, 1599. A complete collection of the illustrations of Amman is painstakingly being done by Dr. Ilse Franke. 55. E.g., Hieronymus Cock, Compartimentorum quod vocant multiplex genus lepidissimis historiolis poetarumque fabellis ornatum, Antwerp: Cock, 1560. Cf. Iacques Floris, Veelderhande cierlijke compertementen..., Antwerp: Hans Liefrinck, 1564.

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56. Heinrich Vogtherr, Kunstbchlein, Strasburg: Christian Mller, 1572. Reprint: Zwickau: Verlag von F. Ullmann, 1913, (Zwickauer Facsimiledrucke, Nr. 19). 57. H. Soden-Smith. A List of Books and Pamphlets in the National Art Library, South Kensington Museum on Drawing, Geometry and Perspective, London: Eyre and Spottiswoode, 1888, p. 41. 58. Ibid., pp. 50-51 and 48-50. 59. Ibid., pp. 43-48. Cf. Gerlind Werner, Ntzliche Anweisung zur Zeichenkunst. Illustrierter Lehr und Vorlagenbcher aus den Bestnden der Bibliothek des Germanischen Nationalmuseums. (Ausstellung der Bibliothek der Germanischen Nationalmuseums 21.Juni-7. September,Nrnberg, 1980), Nrnberg: Kuch-Druck, 1980. 60. E.g., Robert Dudley. 61. Soden Smith, as in note 57 above, p. 51. 62. G.-P. Lomazzo, as in I.1 note 36. 63. Cf. Roger De Piles, Principles of Painting, London: J. Osborn, 1743, p. 294 where he lists expression, colouring, design and composition. 64. Felix Bracquemond, Du dessein et de la couleur, Paris: G. Charpentier et Cie., Editeurs, 1895, p. 283: Table: Le dessin, la couleur; Chaleur, froideur; Dessinateur, coloriste; Reflet, Clair-obscur; Valeur; Trait, model Ligne, masse, silhouette; Perspective, Effet, Execution Ornement, La nature.., Le model, l'art et la physique. 65. See the catalogue by Werner, cited in note 59. 66. Samuel van Hoogstraeten, Inleyding tot de hooghe schoole der schilderkonst, Rotterdam: Francois van Hoogstraeten, 1678: 1. Euterpe 2. Polymnia 3. Clio 4. Erato 5. Thalia 6. Terpsichore 7. Melpomene 8. Calliope 9. Urania De Redewikster De Rederijkster De Historyschrijffster De Minnedichtster De Kluchtspeelster De Poetersse De Treurdichtster De Heldedichster De Hemelheffster

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67. For an introduction to this complex debate see Georg Kauffmann, PoussinStudien, Berlin: De Gruyter, 1960. 68. John Locke, Some Thoughts Concerning Education, London: Printed for A. and J. Churchill, 1693. 69. Jean Jacques Rousseau, Emile; ou, de l'ducation, The Hague [i.e., Paris]: Jean Neaulme, 1762, 4 vol. 70. For an introduction to these problems see: Theodor Wunderlich, Illustrierter Grundriss der geschichtlichen Entwicklung des Unterrichts im Freien Zeichnen, Stuttgart: W. Effenberger, 1892 and D. Lako, Overzicht van de geschiedenis van het teeken onderwijs in Nederland, Tiel: D. Mijs, 1899. Cf. Ben Schasfoort, Bibliographie van Nederlandstalige literatuur...met betrekking tot tekenonderwijs, Enschede: Stichting von der Leerplanontwikkeling, 1986. 71. See also Oskar Pupikofer, Geschichte des Freihandzeichen-Unterrichts in der Schweiz, St. Gall: Druck der M. Klin'schen Buchdruckerei, 1890. 72. Cf. A. Fr. Herbold, Die Methode des Zeichenunterrichts der Brder Ferdinand und Alexander Dupuis, Darmstadt: Druck und Verlag von Carl Wilhelm Leske, 1848. 73. Encyclopdie ou dictionnaire raisonn des arts et des mtiers, ed. M. Didrot et M. D'Alembert, Paris: Chez Briasson, David...,1751, vol. 1, pp.889-891: Les draperies, les fleurs, les fruits, tout enfin doit tre dessin, autant qu'on le peut sur le naturel. 74. See Wunderlich, as in note 70, p. 35: 1. 2. 3. 4. bungen zur Bildung der Hand fur das Zeichnen. Zeichnungsbungen im Schaffen und Erfinden schner Formen. bungen, die zur Bildung und Befestigung der Imagination fhren. bungen im realen oder mathematischen Abzeichnen der Gegenstnde der Natur. 5. bungen in der perspektivischen Entwicklung. 75. Cf. Lako, as in note 70, p. 63. 76. Ibid., pp. 68-69. 77. Cf. Wunderlich, as in note 70, p. 92:

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a) Zeichnen menschlicher Kopfe (la figure), zuerst nach Gipsmodellen, dann nach lebenden Modellen; b) Zeichnen ganzer menschlicher Figuren (l'acadmie), nach Gipsmodellen; c) Zeichnen von Zieraten (l'ornement), nach Gipsmodellen; d) Blumenzeichnen (le dessin des fleurs), zuerst nach einer angemessenen Reihe knstlicher, dann nach natrlichen Blumen. 78. See Lako, as in note 70, p. 97: I. Het teekenen van rechte lijnen, hoeken en krommelijnen. II. Het teckenen van eenvoudige voorwerpen in omtrek. III. Het teekenen van eenvoudige voorwerpen met verlichting. IV. Het bloemen-en ornamentteekenen. V. Het landscapteekenen. VI. Het figuurteekenen. VII. Het dierenteekenen. VIII. Van de perspectief. IX. De schaduwleer. 79. Larousse, Dictionnaire universel du XIX siecle, as in note 52, p. 59: Dessiner, a-t-il dit, n'est pas reproduire un objet tel qu'il est; ceci est la besogne du sculpteur, mais tel qu'il parait, et ceci est celle du dessinateur et du peintre; ce dernier achve au moyen de la dgradation des teintes ce que l'autre a commenc au moyen de la juste disposition des lignes, c'est la perspective, en un mot, qu'il faut mettre non pas dans l'esprit, mais dans l'oeil de l'lve. Vous ne m'apprenez, dirai-je au matre, avec vos proportions exactes et votre perspective par A plus B, que des vrits, et dans l'art tout est mensonge: ce qui est long doit paratre court, ce qui est courbe paratra droit, et rciproquement. Qu'est-ce, en definitive, que la peinture dans sa dfinition la plus littrale? L'imitation de la saillie sur une surface plane. Avant de faire de la posie avec la peinture, il faut avoir appris faire venir les objets en avant. Il a fallu des sicles pour en arriver l. On a commenc par un trait sec et aride, on a fini par les merveilles de Rubens et du Titien, dans lesquelles les parties saillantes comme les simples contours, prononcs chacun dans la measure convenable, sont arrivs cacher l'art tout fait, force d'art: voil le nec plus ultra, voil le prodige, et ce prodige est le fruit de l'illusion. Quel que soit l'object qu'il se propose de rproduire, le dessinateur est donc tenu avant tout de connaitre, de respecter les lois de la perspective. Il y a la perspective linaire et la perspective arienne: la premire, dont la gomtrie descriptive fournit les regles, suffit au dessin ou il n'est fait usage que de traits, de contours; la seconde, qui a pour objet les modifications apparentes que font subir aux formes les jeux de la lumire et de l'ombre, trouve son application dans les images colories, soit

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monochromes (comme sont les dessins la sepia, l'encre de Chine), soit multicolores. On peut dire que, dans un tableau, le dessin donne la perspective linaire, et la couleur en perspective arienne. Le dessin et la couleur sont donc indispensables, l'un et l'autre, la peinture. Aussi ne comprenons-nous gure les interminables disputes qui se sont eleves sur la question de savoir auquel de ces deux moyens de l'art il convient d'accorder la pre-minence. Vouloir rsoudre cette question, a dit Wattelet, c'est la meme chose que vouloir dcider si c'est l'me ou le corps de l'homme qui constitue la partie la plus ssentielle son existence. 80. Dictionnaire de pdagogie, as in I.3, note 55, p. 576: La thorie dveloppe de la perspective fait connatre les procds imagin par les gomtres pour obtenir des apparences exactes dans toutes sortes de cas ou il est necssaire, en effet, pour un peintre de profession, et surtout pour un architecte, d'en savoir executer de telles. 81. Ibid., p. 579: Le terme de l'tude est le dessin d'aprs nature. Mais c'est ou commence l'enseignement approfondi. Dans un enseignement lmentaire on ne dpassera pas le dessin d'aprs la bosse. 82. Ibid, p.580: Course lmentaire Trac des lignes droites et leur division en parties gales. Evaluation des rapports des lignes entre elles. Reproduction et valuation des angles. Premiers principes du dessin d'ornement. Circonfrences, polygones reguliers, rosaces toiles. Cours moyen DESSIN A MAIN LEVEE. Courbes gomtriques usuelles: ellipses, spirales,etc. Courbes empruntes au rgne vegtal: tiges, feuilles, fleurs. Copie de pltres reprsentant des ornements plans d'un faible relief. Premires notions de dessin gomtral et lments de la perspective. Reprsentation gomtrale au trait et reprsentation perspective, au trait, puis avec les ombres, de solides gomtriques et d'objets usuels simples. DESSIN GEOMETRIQUE. Emploi (au table) des instruments servant au trac des lignes droits et des circonfrences: rgle compas, querre et rapporteur. Se borner, dans cette partie du cours, faire comprendre aux lves l'usage de ces instruments dont ils acquerront le maniement dans le cours suprieur.

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Cours suprieur DESSIN A MAIN LEVEE. Dessin, d'aprs l'estampe et d'aprs le relief, d'ornements purement gomtriques: moulures, oves, rais de coeur, perles, denticules, etc. Dessin , d'apres l'estampe et d'aprs le relief, d'ornements empruntant leurs elements au rgne vgtal: feuilles, fleurs et fruits, palmettes, rinceaux etc. Notions lmentaires sur les ordres d'architecture donnes au tableau par le matre (3 lecons). Dessin de la tete humaine: ses parties, ses proportions. DESSIN GEOMETRIQUE. Execution sur le papier, avec l'aide des instruments, des traces gomtriques qui ont t faits au tableau dans le cours moyen. Principes du lavis teintes plates. Dessin reproduisant des motifs de dcoration de surfaces planes ou d'un faible relief: carrelages, parquetages, vitraux, panneaux, plafonds. Lavis a l'encre de Chine et la couleur de quelques uns de ces dessins. Releve avec cotes, et reprsentation gomtrale au trait de solides gomtriques et d'objets simples, tels: assemblages de charpente et de menuiserie, dispositions extrieures d'appareils de pierre de taille, grosses pieces de serrurerie, meubles les plus ordinaires, etc. Emploi du lavis pour exprimer la nature des materiaux. Lavis des plans et des cartes. Ibid., p.575: L'tude du dessin ne devait pas conduire seulement une partie de ceux qui s'y adonnerait acqurir de reprsenter les formes des choses visibles, soit par une pure imitation, soit en imaginant et inventant, et en s'levant ainsi jusqu' l'art, mais que ceux qui n'arriveraient pas acqurir ce talent ou qui ne l'acquerraient que dans une faible mesure, cette tude, si on la fondait sur l'imitation d'excllents modles, leur apprendrait apprecier ce qui est, en fait de choses visibles, exacts ou inxact, correct ou incorrect, surtout beau ou laid, gracieux ou disgraciuex, sant ou mal sant; qu'elle enseignerait ainsi mieux voir et a mieux juger, qu'elle formerait enfin, l'oeil et le got, dont l'utilit est presque universelle. 84. Louis Cloquet, Nouveau trait lmentaire de perspective, Paris: Bachelier, 1823, pp. vi-viii: Il m'est arrive plusieurs fois de demander des artistes qui m'avaient tmoign leur dsir de savoir la Perspective, s'ils avaient quelque teinture des premiers lmens de la Gomtrie. Ils m'ont rpondu negativement, disant d'ailleurs qu'ils n'en avaient pas besoin, qu'ils ne voulaient savoir que la Perspective seule, ou plutot que la Perspective des peintres. Et cependant il n'y a qu'une seule et unique Perspective, et autant vaudrait-il, mon avis, en manifestant un pareil dsir, demander crire sans vouloir

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apprendre a lire. Ma manire de raisonner les a eu bientot convaincus, mais ne les a pas tous persuads. J'ai toujours observ que ceux qui s'en sont rapports moi, que ceux qui ont bien voulu se rsigner tudier les principes prliminaires, ont appris trs facilement et vritablement la Perspective, science qu'aucun peintre ne doit ignorer. C'est l ce qui m'a engag rduire les lmens de la Perspective ses principes ssentiels, et a les mettre la porte des lecteurs qui n'ont aucune notion des Mathmatiques, ce qui est assez rare heureusement. J'ai donc divis cet Ouvrage en cinq parties. La premire traite de la Gomtrie lmentaire, dont j'ai cru devoir retrancher toutes les choses trangres notre objet, telles que celles qui concernent la mesure des surfaces, des solides, etc. La deuxime contient les principes purement lmentaires de la Gomtrie descriptive, qui n'est elle-meme qu'une suite ou une application des principes de la premire partie. La troisime traite seulement de la partie de l'Optique qui a un rapport direct notre objet, c'est 'dire de l'Optique considre plutot sous la rapport de la Peinture que sous celui de la Physique. La quatrime contient les rgles de la Projection des Ombres, trs necssaires, non-seulement aux Peintres, mais encore aux Architectes, aux Dessinateurs, etc. Enfin, la cinquime traite de la Perspective, qui est le dernier et principal objet que nous nous sommes propos de traiter. Il n'existe, ma connaissance, aucun ouvrage rdig sur ce plan. 85. A.W. Cunningham, Notes on the History, Methods and Technological Importance of Descriptive Geometry, Edinburgh: 1868. For a brief discussion of this see P.J. Booker, as in I.3, note 46, pp. 130-132. For a standard treatment of the french context see M. Le Comte de Laborde, De l'union des arts et de l'industrie, Paris: Imprimerie impriale, 1866, 2 vol. 86. Felix Klein, Vergleichende Betrachtungen ber neuere geometrische Forschungen, Erlangen: A. Deichert; Cf. David Hilbert, Anschauliche Geometrie, Dover: New York, 1952. 87. K. Lother Wolf and Robert Wolff, Symmetrie Versuch einer Anweisung zu gestalthaften Sehen und sinnvollem Gestalten systematisch dargestellt, Mnster: Bhlau Verlag, 1956, 2 vol. 88. H. M. S. Coxeter and S. L. Greitzer, Geometry Revisted, Washington: Mathematical Association of America, 1967, particularly pp. 100-101. 89. H. M. S. Coxeter, Introduction to Geometry, New York: John Wiley, 2nd edition, 1969, p. 175. 90. Margaret Hagen, Varieties of Realism, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1986, p.105.

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91. Philip Steadman, Lionel March, The Geometry of Environment, London: Methuen, 1974, p. 25. 92. Ernest R. Weidhaas, Architectural Drafting and Construction, Boston: Allyn and Bacon Inc., 1981, particularly p. 39. Chapter 5 1. For an introduction to these problems see Pierre Duhem, Sozein ta phainomena. Essai sur la notion de thorie physique de Platon a Galilee, Annales de philosophie chrtienne, Paris, vol.79/156 (ser.4,VI), 113-138,277-302,352377,482-514,576-592; translated as: To save the Phenomena: An Essay on the Idea of Physical Theory from Plato to Galileo, Trans. E. Doland and C. Maschler, Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1969. 2. For a standard work on the astrolabe see: Henri Michel, Trait de l'astrolabe, Paris: Gauthier Villars, 1947. 3. Alfarabi, as in I.1, note 21. 4. Gundissalinus, "De divisione philosphiae," ed. L. Baur, Beitrge zur Geschichte der Philosophie der Mittelalters, Mnster, Bd.IV, Heft 2-3, 1903, pp. 112-114. 5. Witelo, Opticae Thesaurus...Vitellonis Thuringopoloni Libri X, Basel: Per Episcopios, 1572 (Cf. New York: Johnson Reprint Corporation, 1972, The Sources of Science, No. 74), p. 217: (Liber Quintus.57): Possibile est speculum unum planum in camera propria taliter sisti, ut in ipso videantur ea, quae geruntur in domo alia vel in vicis et plateis. Ptolemaeus 7th 2 catoptr. Sit in camera videntis locus aliquis, in quo existente visu placet videre per speculum planum omne illud, quod alibi agitur: qui locus camerae in quo sistitur centrum visus, sit signatus puncto a: et sit locus, in quo est voluntas aliquid videndi, quod in illo loco agitur, signatus puncto b: sitque rima sive fenestra in camera videntis opposita loco b, que sit g: et ducatur linea bg: & producatur in continuum & directum intra cameram ad aliquam punctum, qui sit d: quod totum postest fieri per astrolabium sive quadrantem vel aliud instrumentum certificationis visuum. 7. Reinerus Gemma Frisius, De radio astronomico et geometro structura, Antwerp: Apud G. Bontium, 1545, 21r: Omitto autem hic ex proposito, quomodo pictor aliquis insignis imo consistens loco, aut arcem integram, aut aedem sacram, aut civitatem quoque (si velit) ad rationem opticae delineare possit huius nostri radii adminucilo: eo quad haec tum anten narratis, tum ex iis quae dicentur,

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quivis ingeniosus facile colligem possit. Non possum tamen silentio praeterire summam et facilitatem & commoditatem huius nostri radii, quam architectus aliquis aut pictor adsequi potest, dum stans pede in uno (ut dici solet) totam aedifici faciem sibi opposition in tabulam graphice secundum partium symmetriam depingere possit. Cf. A. Pogo, "Gemma Frisius, his method of determining differences of longitude by transporting timepieces (1530) and his treatise on triangulation (1533)," Isis, Cambridge Mass., vol. 22, no. 2, February 1933, pp. 467-485. 8. Jacques Bassentin, Amplification de l'usage de l'astrolabe, ed. J. Focard, Paris: Cavellat, 1551, p. 91: Et pource qu'il n'est pas du tout possible, que le sens et la raison puissent bien connoitre le vraye quantite de l'anglet aigu et variable, par ainsi il seroit tres difficile de naturellement comprendre la certaine quantite d'une chose, par la science de la perspective seulement. A cest cause les anciens geometriciens et mesureurs, ont invents certains instruments artificiels: et par le moyen d'iceux ont donn facilement a connoitre des quantitez des choses, avec la certitude d'icelle. Mais pour ce qu'il y ha plusieurs et divers instrumens servans & faits pour cest art comme sont un cadran, un triangle geometrique, baculus Jacob, umbraculum visorium, verge geometrique, horloge manuel, quilindre, et autres, desquelz l'usage seroit long a declairer: je passe outre... 10. Manetti, as in I.1 note 31, pp. 44-45. 11. Antonio Averlino detto il Filarete, Trattato di architettura, ed. Anna Maria Finoli e Liliana Grassi, Milan: Edizioni il Polifilo, 1972, p. 653: guardo uno pavimento che ci sia distesi legni quadri o vuoi guardare uno solare di sotto su: tutte le travature sono equidistanti l'una dall'altra, e sguardando ti parra che sieno e pi e meno: secondo chelle ti saranno appresso, ti paranno piu equali, e quantu piu ti si dilungano, tanto piu ti paranno accostate insieme l'una a dosso all'altra, in modo che ti paranno tutt'una. E meglio le vuoi considerare, torrai uno specchio e guarda dentro in esso: vedrai chiaro essere cosi; e se ti fussino al dirimpetto dell'occhio, non ti parebbono se non tutti iguali. E cosi credo che Pippo di ser Brunelleschi fiorentino trovasse il modo di fare questo piano, che veramente fu una sottile e bella cosa che per ragione trovasse che nello specchio ti si dimostra bench coll'occhio ancora, se ben considerrai, tu vedrai quelle mutazioni e diminuzioni. 12. Over one hundred articles have been written on this topic in the past century. For two recent assessments see: Renzo Beltrame "Gli esperimenti prospettici del Brunelleschi,"Accademia nazionale dei Lincei. Rendiconti della classe di scienze

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morali, storiche e filologiche, Rome, series B, vol. 28, fasc.3, March, 1973, pp.417-468 and Martin Kemp,"Science, non science and nonsense: the interpretation of Brunelleschi's perspective", Art History, London, vol.1, 1978, pp.134-161. 13. Simon Stevin, Derde stuck der wisconstighe ghedaechtnissen van de deusichtighe, Leiden: Ian Bonwensz, 1605 in: The Principal Works of Simon Stevin, ed. D. J. Struik, Amsterdam: N.V. Swetz & Zeitlinger, 1958, vol. II.13, pp. 959-961. 14. Leon Battista Alberti, as in I.i, note 13, pp.56-57. 15. Cf. the author's: Military Surveying and Topography, as in I.1 note 31. 16. For a discussion of these see the author's work on Leonardo, as in I.1, note 14, pp. 108-109 17. David Hilbert, Anschauliche Geometrie, Dover: New York, 1944; translated as: Geometry and the Imagination, New York: Chelsea Publ. Co., 1952. 18. See, for instance: G. Pauschmann, "Zur Geschichte der linsenlosen Abbildung," Archiv fr Geschichte der der Mathematik, Naturwissenschaften und der Technik, Leipzig, Bd. 9, 1922, 86-103. 19."Guillaume de St. Cloud, Astronome," Histoire littraire de la France, Paris, tom. XXV, 1869, p. 73. 20. Re: Levi ben Gerson Cf. Maximilian Curtze, "Die Dunkelkammer, Eine Untersuchung ber die Vorgeschichte derselben," Himmel und Erde, Berlin, Jg. XIII, 1901,pp. 226- 232. See also that author's: "Die Abhandlung des Levi ben Gerson ber Trigonometrie und den Jacobstab", Bibliotheca Mathematica, Stockholm, N. F., Bd. 12, no. 4, 1898, pp. 97-112. 21. See the author's "Leonardo and the camera obscura" in: Studi Vinciani in memoria di Nando de Toni. Brescia: Ateneo di scienze lettere ed arti. Centro ricerche Leonardiane, 1986, pp. 81-92. 22. Vitruvius, De architectura, ed. Cesare Cesariano, Como: 1521, fol. xxiii: Excellentemente tange una pulcherima ratione de optica quale fu experta et verificata dal Monastico Architecto Don Papnutio de Sancto Benedicto: si concavo al torno farai un circolo in qualche assicula di quantitate di uncie quatro vel sei, il concavo uncie due vel circa: et questa habia nel centro del concavo uno parvo et brevissimo spectaculo seu foramine quod scopus etiam dicitur: et infixo concordantemente in una valve seu anta di qualche fenestre clause per tal modo in lo loco dove sei non possa introire

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altra luce: et habi uno pocho di biancho papero vel altra cosa che recipia suso quello che si representera du epso in sino in tuta la terra et coelo sono contenuto. 23. See John Hammond, The Camera Obscura. A Chronicle, Bristol: Adam Hilger Ltd., 1981 for a general treatment. For a concise article with citations from sources see J. Waterhouse, "Notes on the early history of the camera obscura," Photographic Journal, London, vol. 25, 1901, pp. 270-290. 24. Anonymous, Unterweisung im Landschaftmalen und Prospektzeichnen nebst den Hauptregeln der menschlichen Theile, Nurnberg: Verlag der Raspeschen Buchhandlung, 1796, p. 9: Es glauben wohl einige, dass man durch die Camera obscura eine Gegend am richtigsten aufnehmen kan und es ist wohl wahr, ich bekomme die Gegend richtig, aber es ist viel schner und besser, wann ich nach der Natur selbst und ohne Camera obscura zeichne. Die Camera obscura ist hauptschlich ein gutes Mittel fur Liebhaber, und solche, die nicht nach der Natur zeichnen Knnen, oder es lernen wollen. 25. Luca Pacioli, Summa di arithmetica, geometria, proportioni e proportionalit, Venice: Paganinus de Paganinis, 1494, Preface: La perspectiva se ben si guarda senca dubio nulla sarebbe se queste non li se accomodasse. Cioe apieno dimostra el monarcha ali tempi nostri de la pictura maestro Pietro di franceschi nostro conterraneo... Cioe qui in vinegia Gentil e Giovan bellini carnal fratelli. E in perspectivo desegno Hyeronimo Malatini. E in Fiorenza Alexandro Boticelli, Philippino e Domenico grilandaio. E in peroscia Pietro ditto el perusino. E in Cortona Luca del nostro Maestro Piero degno discipul. E in Mantua Andrea Mantegna. E in Furli Melocco con suo caro alievo, Marco Palmezzano. Quali sempre con libella e circino lor opera proportionando a perfection mirabile conducano. In modo che non humane ma divine negliochi nostri sapresentano.... 28. E.g., Leonardo da Vinci, A 106v (BN 2038 26v, 1492). Cf. the author's Leonardo Studies I, as in I.1, note 14, p.109. 29. Vitruvius, Architettura con il suo commento, ed. M. Gianbatista Caporali, Perugia: Iano Biganzzini, 1536, fol. 6r: Hora sia il sesto stato trovato da chi el sia che piu necessario e stato alli mesuramenti di geometria, & prospettiva che a qualunque altro istrumento sia: perche con essu si mesurano tutte be liniali dimostrationi e le angularie cose alle quale si expetta le terminationi delle linie e divisioni...e tanto piu quanto e maggiore la multiplicatione per la inequalita de punti

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come e notissimo alli experti liniatori, di che specialmente sono di prospettiva. 30. On the problem of universal measurement see the author's "Measurement, quantification and science": L'poque de la renaissance IV (1560-1600), ed. Tibor Klaniczay, Budapest: Akademiai Kiado, 199?. 31. On Fabrizio Mordente see: Paul Lawrence Rose, "The Origins of the proportional compass from Mordente to Galileo," Physis, Florence, anno X, fasc. 1, 1968, pp. 53-69. 32. Fabrizio Mordente, Il compasso del Signor Fabritio Mordente con altri istromenti mathematici ritrovati da Gasparo suo fratello, Antwerp: apresso Cristofano Plantino, 1584 (Cf. manuscript copy, Munich, Bayerische Staatsbibliothek, Cod. it. 11). 33. For a survey of these problems and a brief history of the proportional compass or sector see: Ivo Schneider, Der Proportionalzirkel. Ein universelles Analogrecheninstrument der Vergangenheit, Munich: R. Oldenbourg Verlag 1970, (Deutsches Museum. Abhandlungen und Berichte, 38 Jg., 1970, Heft 2). 34. On the question of gauging see Menso Folkerts, "Die Entwicklung und Bedeutung der Visierkunst als Beispiel der praktischen Mathematik der fr hen Neuzeit, "Humanismus und Technik, Berlin, Band 18, Heft 1, 31 Mai 1974, pp. 141. Cf. Grete Leibowitz, Die Visierkunst in Mittelalter, Phil. Diss, Heidelberg, 1933. 35. On Schissler see the excellent book by Maximilian Bobinger, as in chapter 2, note 40. 36. This will be the subject of another study by the author. Here by way of introduction some preliminary facts may be noted. A compass by Coignet, in the collection of Commmandant Rasquin (Antwerp) contains the following lines: A augenda vel diminuenda planorum divisiones aequales augenda vel diminuenda solidorum B figurarum polygonalium aequalium substense graduum latera polygonalium regularium in dato circulo C quinque corporum regularium sinuum divisiones metallorum marmores et petra D segmentorum circuli tangentium segmentorum globi

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The Newberry Library manuscript attributed to Lencker contains the lines: Fundamentalis linea Partes datae ratione lineae rectae dividendae Partes datae ratione lineae circularis dividendae Proportiones homologorum planorum augendo Proportiones homologorum corporum augendo Peripheria diameter Reductio planorum Reductio corporum A sixteenth century German manuscript in Munich, Bayerische Staatsbibliothek, Germ. N.4154, contains 8 different lines. A Manuscript by Zugmesser, with whose colleague Galileo quarreled, now in Stuttgart, Landesbibliothek, HB XI 19, contains 15 lines. 37. Hans Lencker [attributed], Perspectiva, Chicago, John M. Wing Foundation, Newberry Library, Ms.B.128. 38. See, for instance, Ludolf von Mackensen, Die erste Sternwarte Europas mit ihren Instrumenten und Uhren - 400 Jahre Jost Brgi in Kassell, Munich: Callwey, 1982. 39. Lencker, as in note 37 above. 40. See Stillman Drake, "Tartaglia's Squadra e Galileo's compasso," Annali dell'istituto e museo di storia della scienza di Firenze, Florence, anno II, fasc. 1, 1977, pp. 35-54. Also his "Galileo gleanings IX. An unrecorded manuscript copy of Galileo's Use of the Compass," Isis, Cambridge, Mass., vol. 51, 1960, pp. 5663. Cf. The introduction to his translation of Galileo Galilei, Operations of the geometric and military compass, Washington: Smithsonian Institute, 1978. 41. Re: Michel Coignet see: G. Enestrom, "Uber den Partometer von Michel Coignet," Bibliotheca Matematica, Stockholm, 3 Folge, Band 7, Heft 4, p.397. 42. Ladislao Reti, "Elements of machines," in: L. Reti, ed., The Unknown Leonardo, London: Hutchinson and Co., 1974, pp. 272-273. For an early seventeenth century expression of these connections see Blancanus, as in chapter 4, note 11, when speaking of the six speculative mathematical [sciences], p.389: Quarta, mechanica, quae de machinis agit, sive, ut ait Aristoteles versatur circa artificata, sicuti naturalia de sex machinis praecipuis, libra, vecte, trochlea, axe in peritrochio, cuneo, cochlea egregia demonstrat: et quia in eis considerat quantitate virium moventium, ponderum motuum, temporum, quibus moventur, & machinas ipsas tanquam lineas quasdam circa centra revolutas, ideo geometrae subalternatur, idest, geometrice demonstrat.

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Eius pars subtilissima est, quae centra gravitatis in planis, ac solidis perscrutatur. 43. On the question of the four powers see: Kenneth D. Keele, Leonardo da Vinci's Elements of the Science of Man, New York: Academic Press, 1983, particularly, pp. 93-130. 44. Leonardo da Vinci, W19070v (K/P 113r): Il libro della scientia delle macchine va inanzi al libro de govamenti. 45. Leonardo da Vinci, K 49 [48 et 15]r: La proportione non solamente nelle numeri e misure fia ritrovata ma etiam nelli suoni, pesi, tempi essiti ecqualunche potentia sicia. 46. Leonardo da Vinci, Ca 203va: Ma direno solamente i moti essere di 2 nature, delle quali l'uno e materiale e l'altro spirituale, perche non e compreso dal senso del vedere, overo direno d'uno essere visibile e l'altro invisibile. 47. See, for instance, CA 66rb (186r, c.1505): Il notare sopra dell'acqua insegna alli omini come fanno li uccelli sopra dell'aria. 48. For a full analysis of percussion in relation to Leonardo's physics see the author's Leonardo da Vinci Studies II: 1.2 49. For an analysis of these passages see the author's Leonardo da Vinci Studies III. 50. Hence, on CA 252rb (681r, c.1490-1492), he speaks, for instance of: "questa terrestre e mundiale macchina". 51. E. J. Dijksterhuis, The Mechanization of the World Picture, trans. C. Dikshoorn, London: Oxford University Press, 1961. 52. On the general mathematical context see: Paul Lawrence Rose, The Italian renaissance of mathematics, Geneva: Librairie Droz, 1976 (Travaux d'humanisme et renaissance, CXLV). 53. See: Giuseppe Boffito, Il primo compasso proporzionale costruito da Fabrizio Mordente e la operatione cilindri di Paolo dell'Abbaco, Florence: Seeber, 1931.

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Cf. Maria Luisa Bonelli, "Di una bellissima edizione di Fabrizio Mordente...", Physis, Florence, vol. 1, 1959, 127-148, particularly p.144. 54. On Egnazio Danti see Thomas Settle, "Egnazio Danti's great astronomical quadrant," Annali dell'istituto e museo di storia della scienza di Firenze, Florence, anno IV, fasc. 2, 1979, pp. 3-13. Cf. Thomas Settle, "Ostilio Ricci. A Bridge between Alberti and Galileo," XII congrs internationale d'histoire des sciences, Paris, tome 3 B, 1971, pp. 117-122; also his "The Tartaglia Ricci problem; towards a study of the technical professional in the 16th century." Atti del convegno internazionale di studio. Giovanni Battista Benedetti e il suo tempo. Istituto veneto di scienze lettere ed arte, Venice, 1987, pp. 217-226. 55. Giorgio Vasari, Jr., Raccolta fatto dal Cav. Giorgio Vasari di varii instrumentii per misurare con la vista, 1600, Florence, Biblioteca Riccardiana, Ms. 2138. Cf. Loredana Olivato, "Profilo di Giorgio Vasari il giovane," Rivista dell'istituto nazionale d'archeologia e storia dell'arte, Rome, n. s. anno 16-17, 1969-1970, pp. 181-229. 56. On Ursus see Nick Jardine, The Birth of History and Philosophy of Science. Kepler's A Defence of Tycho against Ursus...,Cambridge: Cambridge Univesity Press, 1984. 57. Cf. Ernst Zinner, Deutsche und niederlandische astronomische Instrumente des 11-18 Jhdt, Munich: Beck Verlag, 1956. 58. Andreas Albrecht, Abriss und Beschreiburg eines sonderbaren ntzlich notwendigen Mechanischen Instruments, Nurnberg: Ieremiam Dumlerr, p.34: Wie mit diesem Instrument ein Gebau, ein Landschaft oder andere corperliche vor Augen stehende Ding perspectivich genommen und aufgerissen werden sollen; p. 36: Zum Beschluss knnt ihr mit diesem Instrument auch alle geometrische und perspectivisch Figuren in was Grss ihr wolt nur dass ihr die verjngte Maass nach eurem Gefallen verandert, verkleinern und vergrssern. 59. Leonardo da Vinci, Codice Atlantico, 190ra. 60. See, for instance, Codice Atlantico, 112ra, 251rb, BM 104ra. All the passages involved have been considered in volume three of the author's Leonardo Studies. 61. For a conservative assessment of these passages see Albert van Helden, "The invention of the telescope," Transactions of the American Philosophical Society, Philadelphia, vol. 67, part 4, 1977, pp. 1-67.

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62. E.g. Ernst Cassirer, Substance and Function, trans. William Curtis Swabey and Marie Collins Swabey, Chicago: Open Court Publishres, 1923; New York, Dover Publications, 1953. 63. Donald P. Greenberg, "Computer graphics in architecture," Scientific American, New York, Vol. 230, May 1974, pp. 98-106. A basic text is William M. Newman, Robert F. Sproull, Principles of Interactive Computer Graphics, Tokyo: McGraw Hill, Koga Kusha Ltd., 1973. 64. R.A. Reynolds, Computing for Architects, London: particularly p.64 Butterworths, 1987,

65. Alan Pipes, ed., Computer Aided Architectural Design Features, London: Butterworths, 1986, particularly fig. 5.2. 66. Sherley Werner Morgan, Architectural Drawing, Perspective, Light and Shadow, Rendering, New York, 1950, p. Chapter 6 1. Vasari, as in I.2, note 1, vol.II, p.90. 2. Ibid., vol.I., p.233. 3. Ibid., vol.I, p.328; vol.II, pp.90-230; vol.III, pp.41, 55, 133; vol.IV, pp.60, 195. 4. Benedetto Dei, Cronaca Fiorentina dal 9 dicembre 1430 al 1480, Florence, Archivio di stato, manoscritti no. 119, fol. 32v: Florentia bella a 66 botteghe di speziali e a 84 botteghe di legnaiuoli di tarssie e intagliatori. Cf. his Memorie, Florence, Biblioteca Riccardiana, Cod. 1853, fol. 90r. 5. Vasari, as in I.2, note 1, vol.I, p.251. 6. Ibid., vol.I, p.308. 7. Ibid., vol.I, p.237. 8. Erich Auerbach, Mimesis, The Representation of Reality in Western Literature, trans. Willard R. Trask, Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1945. 9. See, for instance, Hans Schritz, Die Perspektive in der Kunst Albrecht Drers, Frankfurt: Heinrich Keller, 1919. Cf. Karl Rapke, Die Perspektive und Architektur auf des Drerschen Handzeichnungen, Strasbourg: J.H. Ed. Heitz, 1902.

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10. Vasari, as in I.2, note 1, vol.I, pp.232-233. 11. Sir E. H. Gombrich, Means and Ends, as in chapter 1, note 30. 12. Cf. Franz Boas, Primitive Art, New York: Dover Publications, 1955. On the problem of primitive mentality see: Ernst E. Baesch, Das Magische und das Schne. Zur Symbolik von Objekten und Handlungen, Stuttgart: FroomannHolzboog, 1983. 13. Sir E. H. Gombrich, The Sense of Order, London: Phaidon, 1979. 14. Cf. C. Van der Sleyen, Das alte gypten, Frankfurt: Verlag Ullstein, 1975, pl. 46, (Propylen Kunstgeschichte, Bd. 15). 15. Sir E. H. Gombrich, Art and Illusion, Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1960, p.129. 16. Ibid., p. 131. 17. Cf. Heinrich Schfer, Principles of Egyptian Art, tr. John Baines, Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1974. 18. Pliny, Natural History, trans. H. Rackham, Cambridge, Mass: Harvard University Press, vol. IX, 1968, pp. 306-311 (XXXV.65-66). 19. Ibid., vol. IX, 1968, pp. 176-177 (XXIV,XIX.65): vulgoque dicebat ab illis factos quales essent homines, a se quales viderentur esse. 20. One of the fundamental contributions of Sir Ernst Gombrich has been to demonstrate that psychological projections continue to imbue art. See: Art and Illusion. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1960. 21. An image in the mind which is visual cannot be recorded or measured. It needs a verbal description. Hence, although visual in the mind, it nonetheless needs a verbal filter before it can be communicated. 22. Vasari, as in I.2, note 1, vol.I, p.209. 23. Auerbach, as in II.1, note 8. 24. Cf. Sir E. H. Gombrich, "Illusion and art," in: Illusion in Nature and Art, ed. R.L. Gregory and E.H. Gombrich, London; Duckworth, 1973, pp. 193-243, particularly pp. 230-231.

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25. Michael Kubovy, The Psychology of Perspective and Renaissance Art, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1986, pp.52-64. 26. For an analysis see Marisa Dalai Emiliani, "Il ciclo del Foppa nella cappella Portinari." 27. Alessandro Parronchi, Studi su la dolce prospettiva, as in I.2, note 6, pp.340348. 28. Alessandro Parronchi, Masaccio, Florence: Sadea Sansoni, 1966. His reconstruction is reproduced in: L'opera completa di Masaccio, ed. Paolo Volponi, Luciano Berti, Milano: Rizzoli, 1968, p.96. 29. Cf. Jean Seznec, The Survival of the Pagan Gods, trans. Barbara F. Sessions, New York: Harper and Row, 1953. 30. For an analysis of the contents of these paintings, cf. S. J. Freedberg, Painting in the High Renaissance in Rome and Florence, Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1961, 2 vol. 31. Leonardo da Vinci, A 96r (BN 2038 16r, TPL 119, 1492): Ti rispondo che tu debbi porre il primo piano col punto al'altezza de l'ochio de riguardatori d'essa storia et in sul detto piano figura la prima storia grande e poi diminuendo di mano in mano le figure e casamenti in su diverse colli e pianure farai tutto il fornimento d'essa storia. For another discussion of this passage see: Sir E. H. Gombrich, Means and Ends, as in I.1, note 30, p. 10. 32. Gotthold Ephraim Lessing, Lokoon, oder ber die Grenzen der Malerei und Poesie, Stuttgart: Reclam, 1964, (271/71 a/b), p. 114: Ich schliesse so. Wenn es wahr ist, dass die Malerei zu ihren Nachahmungen ganz andere Mittel, oder Zeichen gebrauchet, als die Poesie; jene nmlich Figuren und Farben in dem Raume, diese aber artikulierte Tne in der Zeit; wenn unstreitig die Zeichen ein bequemes Verhltnis zu dem Bezeichneten haben mussen: so knnen nebeneinander geordnete Zeichen auch nur Gegenstnde, die nebeneinander, oder deren Teile nebeneinander existieren, aufeinanderfolgende Zeichen aber auch nur Gegenstnde ausdrucken, die aufeinander, oder deren Teile aufeinander folgen.

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33.

Ibid., p. 114: Gegenstnde, die nebeneinander oder deren Teile nebeneinander existieren, heissen Krper. Folglich sind Krper mit ihren sichtbaren Eigenschaften die eigentlichen Gegenstnde der Malerei. Gegenstnde, die aufeinander, oder deren Teile aufeinander folgen, heissen berhaupt Handlungen. Folglich sind Handlungen der eigentliche Gegenstand der Poesie.

34.

Ibid., p. 127. Denn wer sieht nicht, dass dem Dichter hier mehr an der Auseinandersetzung der Teile, als an dem Ganzen gelegen gewesen? Er will uns die Kennzeichen eines schnen Fllens, einer tchtigen Kuh zuzhlen, um uns in den Stand zu setzen, nachdem wir deren mehr oder wenigere antreffen, von der Gute der einen oder des andern urteilen zu knnen; ob sich aber alle diese Kennzeichen in ein lebhaftes Bild leicht zusammenfassen lassen, oder nicht, das knnte ihm sehr gleichgltig sein. Ausser diesem Gebruche sind die ausfhrlichen Gemlde krperlicher Gegenstnde, ohne den oben erwhnten Homerischen Kunstgriff, das Koexistierende derselben in ein wirkliches Sukzessives zu verwandeln, jederzeit von den feinsten Richtern fr ein frostiges Spielwerk erkannt worden,zu welchem wenig oder gar kein Genie gehret. Wenn der poetische Stmper, sagt Horaz, nicht weiter kann, so fangt er an, einen Hain, einen Altar, einen durch anmutige Fluren sich schlangelnden Bach, einen rauschenden Strom, einen Regenbogen zu malen.

35. Ibid., p.129: Es bleibt dabei: die Zeitfolge ist das Gebiete des Dichters, so wie der Raum das Gebiete des Malers. Zwei notwendig entfernte Zeitpunkte in ein und ebendasselbe Gemlde bringen, so wie Fr. Mazzuoli den Raub der sabinischen Jungfrauen, und derselben Aussohnung ihrer Ehemnner mit ihren Anverwandten; oder wie Tizian die ganze Geschichte des verlornen Sohnes, sein liederliches Leben und sein Elend und seine Reue: heisst ein Eingriff des Malers in das Gebiete des Dichters, den der gute Geschmack nie billigen wird. 36. Leonardo da Vinci, Codex Urbinas 1270, fol. 123r (TPL 374): Delle otto [sic] operazioni del huomo. Fermezza, movimento, cuorso, ritto, apoggiato, a sedere, chinato, ginocchioni, giaccente, sospeso, portare, esser portato, spingere, tirare, batere, esser batuto, agravare e allegierire.

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37. Andre Chastel, I centri del rinascimento Arte italiano 1460-1500, Milan: Rizzoli, 1965, p.123. 38. Henry Heydenryk, The Art and History of Frames, London: Nicholas Vane, 1964, p.13. 39. Ibid., p.18. 40. For a good introduction to this theme see: Eve Borsook, Mural Painters of Tuscany, London: Phaidon, 1960. Chapter 7 1. Michael Kubovy, as in II.2, note 25, pp.127-149, has offered a psychological explanation why the idea of a controlled viewpoint passed from favour. 2. Cf. Susan Koslow, "De wonderlijke perspectyfkas: an aspect of seventeenth century dutch painting," Oud Holland, Amsterdam, vol. 82, no. 1-3, 1967, pp.3556. 3. For an analysis of these passages see the author's Leonardo da Vinci Studies I, as in I.1, note 14, pp.165-169 4. Cf. J. Baltrusaitis, as in I.1, note 10, pp.54-60. 5. For an analysis of these effects see M. H. Pirenne, Optics, Painting and Photography, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1970, pp. 79-94. 6. Ibid., pp.155-157. 7. Cf. G. K. Loukomski, Jacques Vignole, sa vie, son oeuvre, Paris: A. Vincent et Cie., 1927. 8. J. C. Shepherd and G. A. Jellicoe, Italian Gardens of the Renaissance, London: Academy editions, p.25. Cf. Georges Gromort, Jardins d'Italie, Paris: A. Vincent, 1922. For these references, and for introducing me to the problem of perspective in gardens I am much indebted to Professor C. Thacker (Reading). 9. Cf. Erwin Panofsky, "Die Skala Regia im Vatikan und die Kunstanschauungen Berninis," Jahrbuch der Preussischen Kunstsammlungen, Berlin, Bd. 40, 1919, pp.241-278. 10. Rocco Sinisgalli, Borromini a quattro dimensioni, as in Chapter 1, note 24.

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11. For an introduction see: F. Crips, Mediaeval Gardens Flowery Medes and Other Arrangements of Herbs, Flowers and Shrubs Grown in the Middle Ages..., London: John Lane, 1924, 2 vol., Cf. New York: Hacker Books, 1966. 12. Ibid., vol. 2, fig. CLXXIII for an illustration. 13. Cf. A.R. Blumenthal, "Brunelleschi e il teatro del rinascimento," Bolletino del centro internazionale di studi di architettura, Vicenza, vol. XVI, 1974, pp. 93-104, fig. 37-50. 14. Cf. Mario Fabbri, Elvira Garbero Zorzi, Anna Maria Petrioli Tofani, Il luogo teatrale a Firenze. Brunelleschi, Vasari, Buontalenti, Parigi, Florence: Electa, 1975. See also: Werner Oechslin, "The theatre of invention. Stage design and architecture," Lotus International, Milan, vol. 17, 1977, pp. 66-77. 15. Cf. Ludovico Zorzi, Il teatro e la citt, Turin: Einaudi, 1977, particularly, pp.113 ff., and pl.76-80. 16. Salomon de Caus, Les raisons des forces mouvantes avec diverses machines tant utiles que plaisentes ausquelles sont adjoints plusieurs desseings de grotes et fontaines, Frankfurt: J. Norton, 1615. Cf. the work written by his son or nephew cited below in II.4, note 43. 17. Cf. Loukomski, as in note 7, pl. XLIX-L. 18. Cf. note 12 above. 19. Cf. Patricia Rose, Wolf Huber Studies, New York: Garland Books, 1977, particularly pl.190-192. 20. Cf. Ernest de Ganay, Les jardins de France et leur dcor, Paris: Librairie Larousse, 1949. See also: Alfred Marie, Jardins francais cres la Renaissance, Paris: Editions Vincent Fral, 1955. 21. Olivier de Serres, Le thtre d'agriculture et mesnage des champs, Paris: Firmin Didot et Cie, p. 214: notamment ceux que le Roi fait dresser en ses royales maisons de Fontainebleau, de Saint-Germain-en-Laye, des Tuileries, de Monceaux, de Blois, etc.... Ce ne peut vraiment etre sans merveillement que l'on contemple les herbes parlant en lettres, devises, chiffres, armoiries, cadrans, les gestes des hommes et des betes, la disposition des difices, navires, bateaux et autres choses imites en herbes et arbustes avec une merveilleuse industrie et patience. 22. J.M. Morel, Thorie des jardins, Paris: Chez Pissot, 1776, pp.4-7:

315

Des que l'Architecte se fut empar de la conduite des jardins, en dut s'attendre que, confondant les principes des deux Arts (I) & trop accoutum aux formes rgulieres, dont l'usage convient & s'adapte si bien a ses productions, il chercheroit a lier par une mutuelle correspondance le batiment, dont il fit l'objet principal, au Jardin qui ne lui parut que l'accessoire. Entrain par l'habitude de symmetriser les formes, de calculer les espaces, il voulut assujettir la Nature a ses mthodiques combinaisons & crut l'embellir; mais il la defigura. Il composa un Jardin comme une maison; il le compartit en salles, en cabinets, en corridors; il en forma les divisions avec des murs de charmilles percs de portes, de fenetres, d'arcades, & leurs trumeaux furent chargs de tous les ornemens destins aux difices. Par une suite de cette fausse analogie, les Architectes donnerent a ces pieces, ainsi qu'a celles de leurs batimens, des formes rondes, carres, octogones; ils les decorerent, comme un appartement, avec des vases, des niches, des guaines; ils y logerent des statues, habitans insensibles bien dignes d'un si triste sjour; ils les meublerent, comme des chambres, avec des tapisseries de verdures, du treillage, des perspectives peintes, des lits, des sieges de terre couverts de gazons; ils difierent ainsi jusqu'a des salles de thatre, des dortoirs, & imaginerent enfin le minutieux labyrinthe. Toujours Architectes, quand il falloit etre Jardiniers, (1) ils taillerent un arbre, comme une pierre, en voute, en cube, en pyramide, ils asservirent a leurs contours jusqu'a l'eau fi mobile, dont la marche irreguliere & libre fait tout le charme. 23. Olivier de Serres, as in note 21, p.218: Il est notable qu'a regarder de loin les compartiments, pour l'assiette du jardin, il convient d'en faire les ranges plus loin l'une de l'autre que pour les ranges que l'on voit de pres: on les rapprochera d'autant plus que la vue en sera prochaine, pour la biensance, la chose regarde se rapetissant a mesure de son loignement, par la raison de la perspective. Par cette meme raison, les rangees du compartiment s'entrecouvrent quand on les regarde du plan du jardin, en se promenant par les allees, parce que, le point d'ou l'on regarde tant bas, la vue est occupe par les premieres ranges d'herbe qu'elle rencontre, qui ne permettent pas d'aller jusqu'aux autres. Pour cette raison il est a souhaiter que les jardins soient regards de haut en bas, soit des batiments voisins, soit de terrasses rehausses a l'entour du parterre, ainsi que, par artifice, le Roi a fait faire aux Tuileries en sa belle alle de muriers, et a Saint-Germain-en-Laye, aussi ou la Nature a beaucoup fourni de sien par l'assiette du lieu, tout a fait favorable. 24. Claude Mollet, Thtre des plan[ts] et jardinages, Manuscript, Munich, Bayerische Staatsbibliothek, Cod. Gallici 496, cited in: E. de Ganay, as in note 20, p.59:

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Les alles, que vous ferez planter des plus larges, sont les plus nobles; toutefois, il faut les proportionner selon la longueur que vous leur pouvez donner, comme celles qui auront cent cinquante toises de long, leur faut donner cinz toises de large, parce que la Perspective estrecit; et aussi le Plan[t] des Palissades s'espaissit de chacun cote; de sorte que si vous plantez vos Alles de cinq toises de large, avec le temps elles ne se trouveront que de quatre toises et demie, ainsi des autres Alles. 25. Andre Mollet, Le jardin de plaisir, postface de Michel Conan, Paris: Editions du Moniteur, 1981, p.31: il est a noter premierement que les parterres les plus loigns de la vue doivent etre mis en plus grand volume que ceux qui en sont plus proches, afin de paraitre plus agrables a l'oeil et mieux proportionns. 26. Cf. Kenneth Woodbridge, Princely Gardens, London: Thames and Hudson, 1981, p. 254. 27. Antoine Joseph Dezallier d'Argenville, La thorie et pratique du jardinage, Paris: P. J. Mariette, 1747, 3 Kap., Taf. 3, Cf. Ingrid Dennerlein, Die Gartenkunst der Rgence und des Rokoko in Frankreich, Worms: Werner'sche Verlagsgesellschaft, 1981, p. 73 ff. 28. For illustrations of this stage see: Karl Meyer, Knigliche Grten, Hanover: Fackeltrger-Verlag, 1966. 29. Cf. Vitruvius, Morgan ed., as in I.1, note 2, p.211 and Fensterbusch ed., p.332: ambulationibus vero propter spatia longitudinis varietatibus topiorum ornarent ab certis locorum proprietatibus imagines exprimentes; pinguntur enim portus, promunturia, litora, flumina, fontes, euripi, fana, luci, montes, pecora, pastores caeteraque, quae sunt eorum similibus rationibus ab rerum natura procreata; nonnulli locis item signorum megalographiam habentes: deorum simulacra seu fabularum dispositas explicationes, non minus troianas pugnas seu Ulixis errationes per topia. 30. For a discussion of this, with a reconstruction of the garden at Cythera see Clemens Alexander Wimmer, Geschichte der Gartentheorie, Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1989, pp.34-47. 31. Erasmus, "The godly feast" in: Ten Colloquies, trans. Craig R. Thompson, Indianapolis: Bobbs Merrill, 1967, pp.136-137. 32. Fra D. Francesco Bisagno, Trattato della pittura, Venice: Giunti, 1642, pp.198-200:

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Che sorti di pitture vadano dipinti nei fonti, ne'giardini, nelle camere, e altri luoghi di piacere; e negli strumenti musicali. Cap.XXXI. Possono accomodarvisi con non minor vaghezza in luogo di favole prospettive diverse, le quali faccino allungare i portici, e le pareti del Giardino, & oltre le colonne negli intervalli, paesi cosi accompagnati, che paiano seguire il naturale, fingendovi alcune historie delle dette, che convengono a tali luoghi, come per essempio Apolline, che dietro l'onde di Tessalia segue l'amato Alloro, o Cefalo, che per tempo andando, fa di se inamorare d'Aurora. 33. A. Mollet, as in note 25, p.31: Aux extrmits de ces alles, on posera de belles perspectives peintes sur toile, afin de les pouvoir oter aux injures du temps quand on voudra. 34. Cited in E. de Ganay, as in note 24, p.73: L'enfoncement offre une perspective dont le ciel est peint avec des couleurs si naturelles qu'on assure que des oiseaux s'y sont tromps et que, croyant voler en plein air, ils s'y sont tus. 35. Gartendirektor Zeyher und G. Roemer, Beschreibung der Garten Anlagen zu Schwetzingen, Mannheim: Im Verlage der Benderischen Buchhandlung, 1809, pp.32-33: Ein dunkler Gang liegt vor uns, und in weiter Entfernung erscheint eine freundliche Landschaft, breitet sich vor uns aus, die so tuschend nach einer Zeichnung des Hofmahlers Ferdinand Kobell von einem gemeinen Tuncher in Mannheim, Namens Truckenmller, auf eine ovale Wand gemahlt ist, dass man bey dem ersten Blicke wirklich glaubt, es entfalte sich eine natrliche weite Gegend. Diese schne Wirkung wird eines Theils dadurch hervorgebracht, dass ein ganz beschatteter, drey hundert und siebenzig Schuh langer Gang dahin fhrt, theils dass die Landschaft auf ein Oval gemahlt ist, und das man nahe vor der Mahlerey an einer kleinen durch einen knstlichen Felsen gebrochenen Grotte steht, in derem Becken das von der Decke und den Wanden rinnende Wasser sich sammelt. I am grateful to Professor Deirdre Vincent (Toronto) for kindly translating this passage. 36. Cf. A. Rommel, Die Enstehung des klassischen franzsischen Gartens in Spiegel der Sprache, Berlin: Akademie Verlag, 1954, p.36:

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perspective f.: peinture qui reprsente des jardins, des batiments en loignement, et qu'on met au bout d'une gallerie ou d'une alle de jardin pour tromper agrablement la vue. 37. Olivier de Serres, as in note 21, p.217: Et afin que ces distinctions se voient avec plus de contentement, des terres de diverses couleurs y sont ajoutes, dont on couvre le fonds de l'entredeux des ranges des herbes, auxquelles, par ce moyen, est donn un grand lustre, tout le compartiment du parterre ressemblant un tableau d'exquise peinture sorti di la main d'un bon maitre. 38. Cited in Wimmer, as in note 30, pp.78-79: De Serres stellt auch die fr den Rationalismus so typische Verbindung zu den andren Knsten, her, wenn er das Entwerfes eines Parterres mit der Ttigkeit eines Malers vergleicht und von den Grtnern, denen er keine ausreichende Erfindungskraft zutraut, verlangt, dass sie sich nach den Entwrfen von Malern (hommes entendues en la pourtraicture) richten (II.5.96). 39. William Shenstone, "Unconnected thoughts on gardening," in: Ibid., The Works in Verse and Prose of William Shenstone, Edinburgh: Printed for Alexander Donaldson, 1765, vol. 2, pp.104-105. 40. Friedrich Kasimir Medikus, Beitrge zur schnen Gartenkunst, Mannheim: Hof und akademische Buchhandlung, 1783, pp.290-291: So wie der Landschaftmaler durch Zusammenrckung oder durch Verbindung einzelner Naturschnheiten einen unerschpflichen Stoff zu den schnsten Gemlden hat, die er mit erfinderischen Geiste nuzt und ordnet: so muss hier der Gartenknstler ebenfalls erst diese Schnheiten der Natur studieren, und sich denselben vertraut machen, ehe er es wagen sollte, dergleichen natrliche Gemlde in seinen zu erbauenden Garten aufzustellen, um so mehr, da man seine Arbeiten nicht so leicht hinweg zu rumen vermag, wie man das schlechte Gemlde eines Landschaftmalers aus der Galerie eines Besitzers abhngen kann. 41. D.C. Seitz, Whistler Stories, New York: Harper and Brothers, 1913, p. 9. Cited in: The Oxford Dictionary of Quotations, London: Oxford University Press, 1941, p.566. 42. See Jules Guiffrey, Andre Le Nostre, Paris: Henri Laurens Editeur, 1913 with an English translation Lewes: Sussex Book Guild 1986, and the important study by F. Hamilton Hazlehurst, Gardens of Illusion. The Genius of Andr le Nostre, Nashville: Vanderbilt University Press, 1980.

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43. See Gerhard Gerkens, Das frstliche Lustschloss Salzdahlum und sein Erbauer Herzog Anton Ulrich von Braunschweig-Wolfenbttel, Braunschweig: Selbstverlag des Braunschweigischen Geschichtsverreins (Quellen und Forschungen zur Braunschweigischen Geschichte, Band 22). 44. For a good survey see Sacheverell Sitwell, Great Houses of Europe, London: Weidenfeld and Nicholson, 1961. 45. J. Dennis, The Landscape Gardener. Comprising the History and Principles of Tasteful Horticulture, London: James Ridgway, 1835, p.86. 46. Shenstone, as in note 39, p.105. 47. For an introduction to the history of English gardens see: Henry Avray Tipping, English Gardens, London: Country Life, 1925; Laurence Fleming, The English Garden, London: Michael Joseph, 1979. Cf. British and American Gardens in the Eighteenth Century: Eighteen Illustrated Essays on Garden History, ed. R.P. Maccubbin and Peter Martin, Williamsburg: Colonial Williamsburg Foundation, 1984. 48. Sir William Chambers, A Dissertation on Oriental Gardening, London: Printed by W. Griffin, 1772, pp. iv-v. For examples of supposed Chinese gardens see: Paul Decker, Chinese Architecture, Civil and Ornamental, London: Printed for the author, 1759, pp.249-252 and G. L. Le Rouge, Plan gnral des nouveaux jardins la mode, Paris, 1776-1786, particularly, vol.2, pp.11, 14-17,19. 49. Chambers,Ibid., p.20. 50. Ibid., pp.41-42. 51. [Thomas Whately], Observations on Modern Gardening Illustrated by Descriptions, London: T. Payne, 1770, pp.139-140. 52. Anonymous, L'art de former les jardins modernes ou l'art des jardins anglois. Traduit de l'Anglois. A quoi le traducteur a ajout un discours prliminaire sur l'origine de l'art..., Paris: Charles-Antoine Jombert, 1771, pp.ii-iij: Sans prtendre que leurs jardins soient exempts de dfauts, je crois que tous ceux qui les ont vues, et qui sentent combien la noble simplicit est suprieure tous les rafinemens symmtriques de l'art, leur donnent prfrence sur les notres. For another assessment of the effects of English gardens on the French tradition see: N. Vergnaud, (brother of Armand Dnis, the influential author on

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perspective), L'art de crer les jardins, Paris: Roret, 1835, particularly pp. 34, 5961, 67-69. 53. Ibid., particularly pp. xiii-xiv, xx-xxxi. 54. Ibid., p.344: Les objets anims sont un genre de beaut si interessant & si particulier aux jardins Anglois, qu'il seroit a souhaiter que l'auteur leur eut consacr une section; il eu rendu par-la, ce me semble, son ouvrage plus complet. Toutes les especes d'animaux ne sont pas propres a tout perspective, & quoique tout le monde sache que les chevres animent une scene de rochers, & que des moutons rpandus dans le fond d'un vallon, forment un tableau champetre des plus agrables; il est encore, dans cette partie de l'art, qui regarde la manire de distribuer les animaux, des nuances fines, connues des Anglois, & que l'auteur nous eut parfaitement expliquees a sa maniere l'eut voulu. 55. Anonymous, Planting and Ornamental Gardening; a Practical Treatise, London: Printed for J. Dodsley, 1785, p.559. Cf. pp.572-573. 56. Ibid., p.604. 57. Ercole Silva, Dell'arte dei giardini inglesi, Milan: Stamperia e fonderia al genio topografico, 1801, pp.62-63: Avra cura l'esperto giardiniere, che la distribuzione de suoi verdi ottenga l'effetto della prospettiva del colore, detta da pittori prospettiva aerea. Se avra un ampio locale, ove tutto abbandonare all effetto, e all'interposizione dell'aria l'allontanamento degli oggetti, allora sara in minor bisogno di attenersi al rigore di questa legge: ma se avra un picciolo spazio, e bramo di far sfuggire rapidadamente il suo bosco, il suo viale, i suoi cespugli da un tale determinato punto di veduta, dovra esser sollecito di collocare nell'avanti gli alberi, e le piante, che abbiano il verde piu cupo, le foglie piu grandi, e dettagliate, e i tronchi dalla scorza piu rugosa, e nericcia, mettendo al confine del sue orizzonte i verdi piu pollidi, i tranche piu lisci, le foglie biancastre, che tanto brillante effetto producono dominate dal sole. Cosi otterr il maraviglioso effetto d'ingrandire il luogo per la degradazione de'colori, appunto colle medesime regole, che la prospettiva ha stabilite per il pittore paesista. Cf. pp. 21, 26-27, 108-113, 175-180. 58. Humphrey Repton, Observations on the Theory and Practice of Landscape Gardening, London: T. Bensley, 1805, p.6.

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59. Ibid, Chapter II. Optics or vision - At what distance objects appear largest. Axis of vision - Quantity at field of vision - Ground apparently altered by situation of observer. 60. Ibid., pp.214-222. 61. Dennis, as in note 45, p.15. 62. Ibid., p. 87. 63. Is it a coincidence that Sir Ernst Gombrich, who has spent over forty years in England, should emphasize the occlusion aspect of perspective? See, for instance, Sir E. H. Gombrich, "Mirror and map: theories of pictorial representation," Philosophical transactions of the Royal Society of London, B. Biological Sciences, London, vol. 270, no. 903, 1975, pp.119-149. 64. For a study of this phenomenon see: Richard Haas, An Architecture of Illusion, New York: Rizzoli, 1981.

Chapter 8 1. Aristotle, De poetica, trans. Ingram Bywnter, 1457b 5-10 in: The Works of Aristotle, trans. W.D. Ross, Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1946, vol. XI: Metaphor consists in giving the thing a name that belongs to something else; the transference being either from genus to species, or from species to species, or on grounds of analogy. 2. Ibid., 1457b 10ff: That from species to genus in 'Truly ten thousand good deeds has Ulysses wrought,' where 'ten thousand,' which is a particular large number, is put in place of the generic ' a large number.' Cf. 1461a 17ff.: the word aavtes, all, is metaphorically put for 'many', since 'all' is a species of 'many'. 3. Ibid., 1461b 10ff.: For the purposes of poetry a convincing impossibility is preferable to an unconvincing possibility. Cf. Aristotle, Rhetorica, 1405a 9ff.:

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Metaphors like epithets, must be fitting, which means that they must fairly correspond to the thing signified: failing this, their inappropriateness will be conspicuous. It is striking that Aristotle treats similes and metaphors as interchangeable. See Rhetorica, 1407 10ff.: All these ideas may be expressed either as similes or as metaphors; those which succeed as metaphors will obviously do well as similes and similes, with the explanation omitted will appear as metaphors. 4. For an introduction to this complex topic see Rensselaer E. Lee, Ut pictura poesis. The Humanistic Theory of Painting, New York: W.W. Norton & Co., 1967. 5. E. Auerbach, as in II.1, note 8. 6. For another analysis of this problem see W.M. Ivins, Jr., Art and Geometry, Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1946. 7. Aristotle, as in note 1, 1460b 7-10. 8. Vitruvius, ed. Morgan, as in I.1, note 2, p.212; ed. Fensterbusch, p.334: Neque enim picturae probari debent, quae non sunt similes veritati, nec, si factae sunt elegantes ab arte, ideo de his statim debet 'recte' iudicari, nisi argumentationes certas rationes habuerint sine offensionibus explicatas. 9. Cf. Aristotle, De poetica, as i note 1, 1458a 20 ff.: On the other hand the Diction becomes distinguished and non-prosaic by the use of unfamiliar terms, i.e., strange words, metaphors, lengthened forms and everything that deviates from the ordinary modes of speech." Accordingly in the Rhetorica, 1404, 33ff., Aristotle mentions that "two classes of terms, the proper or regular and the metaphorical - these and no others - are used by everybody in conversation." For a perceptive study of the historical dimensions of these problems, why metaphor was a frill in Aristotle and later became significant see: Wilhelm Kller, Semiotik und Metapher. Untersuchungen zur grammatischen Struktur and Kommunikativen Funktion von Metaphera. Stuttgart: J.B. Metzler, 1975 (Studien zur allgemeinen und vergleichenden Literaturwissenschaft, Band 10). 10. The Comedy of Dante Alighieri the Florentine. Cantica II. Purgatory, trans. Dorothy L. Sayers, Harmondsworth: Penguin Books, 1955, p.144 (Canto X. 37-

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45). I am grateful to Professor Eva Engel Holland for drawing my attention to this passage. 11. Ibid., p. 145 (Canto X.62). 12. Ibid., (Canto X.73). 13. Ibid., (Canto X.75). 14. Cf. Dennis Green (1982). 15. For a brief introduction to these problems see The Comedy of Dante Alighieri...Cantica III. Paradise, trans. Dorothy L. Sayers and Barbara Reynolds, Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1962, pp. 44-49. Cf. Northrop Frye, Anatomy of Criticism, Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1957. 16. Metaphor has, in the past decade, become one of the most explosive topics of study particularly among psychologists and semioticians. See, for instance: G. Lackoff and M. Johnson, Metaphors We Live By, Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1980 and Marcel Danesi, ed., Metaphor, Communication and Cognition, Toronto: Humanities Publishing Services, 1987-1988 (Monograph series of the Toronto Semiotik Circle, No. 2). A classic analysis of the problem remains Karl Bhler's chapter on "Die sprachliche Metapher" in his Sprachtheorie. Die Darstellungsfunktion der Sprache, Stuttgart: Gustav Fischer Verlags, 1965, pp. 342-356. For an idea of the range of disciplines now involved in these discussions see: Metaphor and Thought, ed. Andrew Ortony, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1979. Philosophers have shown increasing interest in the problem as, for instance, Max Black, Models and Metaphors. Studies in Language and Philosophy, Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1962. 17. Philosophers have recently become interested in these connections between philosophy, perspective and positive concepts of illusion. See: Michael Sukale, "Denken und Anschauen" in his: Sprachlogik, Frankfurt: Peter Lang, 1988, pp. 163-182, (Studia philosophica et historica, 8). 18. The above citations are from the Oxford English Dictionary under metaphor. 19. For a study of this phenomenon see Dieter Arendt, Eulenspiegel-ein Narrenspiegel der Geselleschaft, Stuttgart: Klett-Cotta, 1970, particularly 76-83. 20. Cf. Oscar Thulin, Cranach Altre der Reformation, Berlin: Evangelische Verlagsanstalt, 1955, particularly pp.97-98, 116, 118. 21. This is the subject of a penetrating study by Paul Bckmann, "Der dramatische Perspektivismus in der deutschen Shakespearedeutung des 18. Jahrhunderts," in:

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Ibid., Formensprache. Studien zur Literrsthetik und Dichtungs-interpretation, Hamburg: Hoffman und Campe Verlag, 1966, pp. 45-97. 22. Percy Lubbock, The Craft of Fiction, London: J. Cape 1921. 23. Ortega y Gasset, Perspectiva y verdad, Madrid: Revista de occidente, 1966. 24. Claudio Guillen, "On the concept and metaphor of perspective," in C. Guillen, Literature as System. Essays Toward the Theory of Literary History, Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1971, pp.283-371. 25. E. g. Robert Weimann, "Strukturen epischer Weltaneigung in der Renaissance. Zu Fragen des Menschenbildes, Der Erzhlperspektive und des Fiktion Begriffs," Synthesis, Bucharest, vol. III, 1976, pp.47-63. This theme has become of enormous importance. For a more recent study see: Jaap Lintvelt, Essai de typologie narrative. Le point de vue, Paris: Librairie Jose Corti, 1981. A fuller analysis of these trends follows in volume three: Literature on Perspective. 26. Cf. Lars Gustafsson, Sprache und Lge. Frankfurt: Fischer Taschenbuchverlag, 1982. 27. Cf. Paul Robert, Le Robert, Dictionnaire alphabtique de la langue francaise, Paris: Le Robert, vol. 8, p.918. Cf. p.919 where spectaculaire is defined as qui parle aux yeux et a l'imagination. Cf. vol. 9, p.276. 28. For a detailed analysis of these debates see Hubert Damisch, Les origines de la perspective, Paris: Flammarion, 1987, pp.157 ff. 29. See, for instance, De wereld is een speeltoneel, ed. M.C.A. Van der Heijden, Utrecht: Prisma, 1968 (Spectrum van de nederlandse letterkunde, 13). 30. On the question of trompe l'oeil see, for instance, Miriam Milman, Trompe L'Oeil Painting, New York: Skira Rizzoli, 1983 and her Trompe L'Oeil Painted Architecture, New York: Skira Rizzoli, 1986 for excellent photographs. For a more philosophical treatment of these problems see: Sven Sandstrm, Levels of Unreality, Uppsala: Almqvist and Wiksell, 1963. (Figura. Uppsala series in the history of art, New series, 4). The positive dimensions of trompe l'oeil have been the subject of a number of recent exhibitions such as: Alfred Frankenstein, The Reality of Appearance. The Trompe LOeil Tradition in American Painting, New York: New York Graphics Society Limited, 1970. (Exhibition organized by University art museum, Berkeley); Alberto Veca, Inganno e realt. Trompe l'oeil in Europa XVI-XVII sec., Bergamo: Galleria Lorenzelli, 1980; Muse-Chteau d'Annecy, Trompe l'oeil, Dcembre 1982- fvrier 1983. Cf. the special issue of Du on "Trompe l'oeil-Augentuschung", Zrich, n.472, June 1980.

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31. There has, in fact, been quite an amount of controversy on this. Cf. The Complete Paintings of Giotto, Introd. A. Martindale, Notes by Edi Baccheschi, New York: Harry N. Abrams, 1966. 32. Guido Ludovico Luzzatto, L'arte di Giotto, Bologna: N. Zanichelli, 1927 [cover: 1928]. 33. The relevant passages have been analyzed in the author's Leonardo Studies I, as in chapter 1, note 14, pp.336-337 34. Cf. Heydenryk, as in chapter 2, note 38, p. 55. 35. The Complete Essays of Montaigne, Trans. Donald M. Frame, Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1965, p.135. 36. Lina Bolzoni, L'universo dei poemi possibili. Studi su Francesco da Cherso, Rome: Bulzoni, 1980. 37. This topic has recently been studied by James A. Welu, "The sources and development of cartographic ornamentation in the Netherlands", in: Art and Cartography, ed. David Woodward, Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1987, pp.147-173. 38. For a standard introduction to mannerism see John Shearman, Mannerism, Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1967. 39. Jacques Androuet Du Cerceau, Quinque et viginti exempla arcuum partim a me inventa, partim ex veterum sumpta monumentis tum Romae, tum alibi etiam num extantibus ut inscriptio sua cuiusque arcus indicabit, Paris: Benoist Prevost, 1549. 40. Vincenzo Scamozzi, Discorsi sopra l'antichit di Roma, Venice: Francesco Ziletti, 1583, p 27: Potria essere che questa tavola fusse disegnata da qualche cosa antica e ch'io non havessi memoria di haverla veduta, ma molto piu puo stare che ella sia fatta per un bel capriccio perche chi non si stancherebbe a disegnare a punto ogni cosa dell antico, solo colui che non sa fare niuna bella inventione. 41. For a standard work on this painter see Hans Mielke, Hans Vredeman de Vries, Verzeichnis der Stichwerke und Beschreibung seines Stils, Phil. Diss., Berlin, 1967. 42. Cf. Comune di Gorizia, Capricci venezianni del settecento, ed. Dario Succi, Turin: Umberto Allemandi & C., 1988. (Castello di Gorizia - Giugnio-settembre 1988). Cf. William L. Barcham, The Imaginary View Scenes of Antonio Canaletto,

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New York: Garland, 1977. See also the fundamental work of Corboz, as in chapter 2, note 8. Professor Corboz' magnum opus on the history of the temple of Solomon (in preparation) will add many new insights into this very complex story. For further discussion of architecture and the imagination see: Giuliano Briganti, Les peintres de vedute, Paris: Electa France, 1971; Architettura e utopia nella Venezia nel cinquecento, Venezia, Palazzo Ducale, luglio-ottobre, 1980, Milan: Electa; Lionello Puppi, Le Venezie possibili. Da Palladio a Corbusier, Milan: Electa, 1985 and La citt e l'immaginario, ed. Donattella Mazzoleni, Rome: Officina Edizioni, 1985. 43. As mentioned earlier, Salomon de Caus later went to France and to England, where he became tutor to Henry Prince of Wales in 1608. From 1611-1613 he worked on the south front of Wilton. He left a son or a nephew, Isaac de Caus, who worked on the gardens at Wilton and was the author of a: Nouvelle invention de lever l'eau plus hault que la source avec quelques machines mouvantes par le moyen de l'eaux et un discours de la conduite d'icelle, (1644). See, Dictionary of National Biography and Biographie universelle under De Caus. Cf. Lauro Magnani, ed. Tra magia, scienza e meraviglia, Le grotte artificiali dei giardini genovesi nei secoli XVI e XVII, Genoa: Sagep Editrice, 1984. See also: Marcello Fagiolo, Natura e artificio. L'ordine rustico, le fontane, gli automati nella cultura del manierismo europeo, Rome: Officina Edizioni, 1979. 44. Cf. Prelle, Les places, ports, fontaines, eglises et maisons de Paris, Paris: Langlois, c.1680. There is a copy in the Bibliothque Nationale in Paris. 45. J. H. Lambert, "Mmoire sur la partie photomtrique de l'art du peintre," Mmoires de Berlin, Berlin, vol. 24, 1768, pp.80-108. 46. Hermann von Helmholtz, Optisches ber Malerei, in: Populre wissenschaftliche Vortrge, Braunschweig: Vieweg und Sohn, 1871-1873. 47. Ernst Brcke, Bruchstcke aus der Theorie der bildenden Knste, Leipzig: F. A. Brockhaus, 1877. Brcke was Professor of Physiology in Vienna and also translated Helmholtz's work, as in note 46, into French as: Principes scientifiques des beaux arts, Paris, 1878. 48. E. g. Gustav Theodor Fechner, Vorschule der Aesthetik, Leipzig: Breitkopf und Hrtel, 1876. 49. Cf. Augustine, The City of God, Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1972, pp. 168-169 (Bk. IV.27). 50. On the special role of the Bible in western culture see: Northrop Frye, The Great Code. The Bible and Literature, Toronto: Academic Press, 1982.

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51. On this difficult problem see an important study by Brian Stock, The Implications of Literacy. Written Language and Models of Interpretation in the Eleventh and Twelfth centuries, Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1983. On the history of printing see: Elizabeth L. Eisenstein, The Printing Press as an Agent of Change, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1979. 52. Modern art has many examples of paintings on the walls of rooms in paintings, which function as background statements. With respect to Dali's case in particular see his: Le mythe tragique de l'Angelus de Millet. Interprtation paranoiaquecritique, Paris: Jean Jacques Pauvert, 1963. 53. Detailed study of this complex topic has yet to occur. For two pioneering explorations of the problem see: Wolfgang Kemp, Foto-Essays zur Geschichte und Theorie der Fotografie, Munich: Schirmer Mosel, 1978, particularly pp. 51-101, and Kirk Varnedoe, "The artifice of candour, photography, impressionism and photography reconsidered," Art in America, New York, vol. 66, January 1980, pp.66-78. 54. Cf. Sir E. H. Gombrich, "Botticelli's mythologies" in his: Symbolic Images, London: Phaidon, pp.31-78. 55. Salvatore Settis, La Tempesta interpretata. Giorgione, i commitenti, il soggetto, Turin: G. Einaudi, 1978. 56. Erwin Panofsky, Studies in Iconology. Humanistic Themes in the Art of the Renaissance, New York: Oxford University Press, 1939, pp.86-91. (Mary Flexner Lectures, 1937). 57. For examples of these artists see: H. H. Arnason, A History of Modern Art, London: Thames and Hudson, 1977 etc., pp. 422-423, 427-431: (re: precisionists); 613-645 (re: pop art); 699-702 (re: new and photo realism). The references to Arnason are intended to provide readers with handy examples of three movements, and introduce them to the subject. No attempt is made here to give a serious bibliography. 58. J. Baltrusaitis, as in I.1, note 10. 59. Cf. Arnason, as in note 57, pp. 73-74. 60. Albert Gleizes, Du cubisme et des moyens de le comprendre, Paris: Editions 'La Cible', 1921, p.47: Au dbut, la charpente cre sur les principes perspectifs, tait robuste, mais elle fut renverse par les affols de ralisme et ce fut l'impressionnisme, qui se lanca perduement sur les inconsistances atmosphriques.

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61. Ibid., pp.26-27: Si l'artiste, dont la spcialit est de peindre des natures mortes acadmiquement, renoncait tout coup ses sujets favoris et se passionnait pour des sujets composs de briques, de cylindres et de planchettes, il les peindrait avec la perspective optique et l'clairage conventionnel.... Beaucoup de tableaux cubistes ne sont que le produit de cette substitution. 62. Ibid., pp.18-19: Prtendre l'investir d'une troisime dimension, c'est vouloir la dnaturer dans son essence meme: Le rsultat obtenu ne devient que l'imitation trompe-l'oeil de notre ralit matrielle trois dimensions, par la superchrie des perspectives linaires et celle des conventions d'clairage. For a more vehement theoretical rejection of perspective see: Oeuvres compltes de Guillaume Apollinaire, ed. Michel Dcaudin, Paris: Andr Balland et Jacques Lecat, 1963, particularly pp.20-21, 24-25,42,47, 274-275,286-287, 432433. 63. Ibid., pp.23: la peinture n'est donc pas une imitation d'objets. La ralit du monde extrieur lui sert de dpart, mais elle la dpouille de cette ralit pour toucher l'esprit. 64. Cf. Arnason, as in note 57, pp.221-240, 323-330, 591-598. 65. Ibid., pp.375-76. 66. Ibid., pp.370-371, 389-391. 67. One of the great collections of these books is to be found at the Herzog August Bibliothek at Wolfenbttel. Professor Harriett Watts is presently engaged in a study thereof. 68. Cf. Abraham Horodisch, Picasso als Buchknstler, Frankfurt: Gesellschaft der Bibliophilen, 1957. 69. Cf. Arnason, as in note 57, pp.507-508, 521-523, 652-653, 678-679. 70. Ibid., pp.78-80.

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71. Ibid., p.290. 72. Ibid., pp.292-306. 73. Ibid., pp.219, 307-316, 395-396. 74. Ibid., pp.348-409. 75. Ibid., pp.658 ff., 703-706. 76. Cf. William Kurelek, William Kurelek's Vision of Canada, Winnipeg: Hurtig, 1980. 77. Arnason, as in note 57, p.567. 78. Cf. Christopher Grey, "Czanne's use of perspective," College Art Journal, New York, vol.19, no. 1, Fall 1959, pp.54-64. 79. See John Rewald, "Van Gogh vs. nature: did van Gogh of the camera lie?", Art News, New York, vol.41, 1942, pp.8-11. Cf. Patrick Heelan, Space-Perception and the Philosophy of Science, Berkeley: University of California Press, 1983, pp.114128. 80. Cf. Hermann von Helmholtz, Helmholtz's Treatise on Physiological Optics, trans. James P.C. Southall, New York: Dover Publications, 1962, vol.3, p.181; F. Hillebrand, "Theorie der scheinbaren Grsse bei binokularen Sehen, Abhandlungen der Akademie, der Wissenschaften zu Wien, Mathematischnaturwissenschaftliche Klasse, Vienna, Bd. 72, 1902; A.E. Ames, and C.A. Proctor, "Dioptrics of the Eye," Journal of the Optical Society of America, Rochester, Vol.5, 1921, pp.22-84. R. K. Luneburg, Mathematical Analysis of Binocular Vision, Hanover: Dartmouth Eye Institute, 1947. 81. Guido Hauck, Die subjektive Perspektive und die horizontalen Curvaturen des dorischen Styls, Stuttgart: Conrad Wittwer, 1879. 82. Erwin Panofsky, "Die Perspektive als symbolische Form," as in I.2, note 27. 83. Cf. Robert Hansen, "This curving world: hyperbolic linear perspective," Journal of Aesthetics and Art Criticism, Baltimore, vol.32, no. 2, winter 1973, pp.148-161. Cf. Hansen's introductory commentary to his translation of Albert Flocon and Andr Barre, Curvilinear Space. From Visual Space to Constructed Image, Berkeley: University of California Press, 1987. 84. M. H. Pirenne, "The scientific basis of Leonardo da Vinci's theory of perspective," British Journal for the Philosophy of Science, London, vol.3, 1952, pp.169-185.

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85. Dick Termes, Spherical Thinking, Spearfish, 1982. 86. Philippe Comar et Nel Blotti, Stenop. La reprsentation de l'espace, Paris: Cit des sciences et de l'industrie (1987). 87. In: Marcia Clark, ed., The World is Round. Contemporary Panoramas, New York: The Hudson River Museum, 1987, p.31. 88. Ibid., p.43. 89. Ibid., pp.43, 51, 35. 90. Ibid., pp.59, 27, 45. 91. Ibid., p.8. 92. Ibid., p.35. 93. Fritz Novotny, Czanne und das Ende der wissenschaftliche Perspektive, Vienna: Schroll, 1938. 94. Cf. Suzi Gablik, Progress in Art, London: Thames and Hudson, 1976. 95. Cf. Sidney J. Blatt, in collaboration with Ethel Blatt, Continuity and Change in Art: the Development of Modes of Representation, Hillsdale: Lawrence Erlbaum, 1984. While disagreeing strongly with my colleagues and friends, I find their book very stimulating. They document why the conceptual approach has gained such a fascination among psychologists. I, personally, believe that perception remains both interesting and important. For an analysis of problems with their approach see the authors Literature of Perspective, Chapter 1. 96. Erwin Panofsky, "Die Perspektive als symbolische Form", as in I.2, note 27. 97. For a discussion of Panofsky's context see the author's: Panofsky's perspective: a half century later" in: Marisa Dalai Emiliani, ed., La prospettiva rinascimentale. Codificazioni e trasgressioni, Florence: Centro Di, 1980, pp.565584. 98. H. Cohen, sthetik des reinen Gefhls, Berlin: P. Cassirer ,1912. Cf. his: Kants Begrndung der sthetik, Berlin: F. Dmmler, 1889. 99. Sir E. H. Gombrich, Aby Warburg. An Intellectual Biography, London: Warburg Institute, 1970.

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100. Sir E. H. Gombrich, Norm and Form, Studies in the Art of the Renaissance I, London: Phaidon, 1966; Sir E.H. Gombrich, Symbolic Images, Studies in the Art of the Renaissance II, London: Phaidon, 1972; Sir E.H. Gombrich, The Heritage of Apelles. Studies in the Art of Renaissance III, London: Phaidon, 1976. 101. Sir E. H. Gombrich, The Sense of Order. A Study in the Psychology of Decorative art. London: Phaidon, 1979, p.ix. 102. Ibid. 103. Sir E. H. Gombrich, Art and illusion. A study in the psychology of pictorial Representation, Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1960 (Bollingen series XXXV.5); R.L. Gregory and E.H. Gombrich, ed., Illusion in Nature and Art, London: Duckworth, 1973; Sir E.H. Gombrich, The Image and the Eye. Further Studies in the Psychology of Pictorial Representation, Oxford: Phaidon, 1982. 104. Sir E. H. Gombrich, The Sense of Order, as in note 101, p.ix. 105. Cf. Sir E. H. Gombrich, Art and Illusion, as in note 103, p.152. Cf. quote relating to our note 104. 106. Cf. Sir E. H. Gombrich, The Ideas of Progress and their Impact on Art, New York: Cooper Union School of Art and Architecture, 1971. 107. Ernst Cassirer, Individuum und Cosmos in der Philosophie der Renaissance, Leipzig: B.G. Teubner, 1927 (Studien der Bibliothek Warburg, X); Cf. Ernst Cassirer, Individual and the Cosmos in Renaissance Philosophy, trans. Mario Domandi, New York: Harper and Row, 1964, particularly pp.123-191. 108. There are larger questions here. Joseph Campbell in Oriental Mythology, Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1962, begins with a fascinating contrast between Eastern and Western culture, suggesting that the separation of man from God and nature has been an aspect of western culture from the outset in a way that is not the case in the east. In other words, the subject-object distinction, although it came into focus during the Renaissance, had Biblical roots in the West.

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11. ILLUSTRATIONS 1. Three kinds of pseudo-perspectival methods: visual angles in the Bedford Hours and Schwenter's Practical Geometry (1618); vertical axis or fishbone perspective in wall decorations at Boscoreale and Cryptoporticus and inverted perspective in Giotto's St. Francis Cycle, Assisi and in a detail from a Chinese handscroll in the British Library (17th c.). 2. Duccio's Maest as an example how recurrent use of spatial scenes serves to connect different episodes in a story. A detail from the Maest and a similar polygonal building in Piero della Francesca's treatise on perspective about 180 years later as an example of how practice precedes theory. 3. Three further cases of how painting practice precedes perspectival theory. 4. Parallels between construction of space in churches: St. Pierre in Aulnaye le Santage and Notre Dame in Paris; reconstruction of space in the Baptistery of the Palace of the Kings of Majorca in Perpignan and representation of space in Ghiberti's Gates of Paradise and the Limbourg Brothers' Presentation of the Virgin in the Trs riches heures de Duc de Berry. 5. How a given spatial motif of a barral vault recurs in different contexts and media: fresco in Masaccio's Trinity; marble in D. da Settignano's Tabernacle in San Lorenzo (Florence), faade of the Civic Hospital in Venice; fictive space in Bramante's Choir in Santa Maria presso San Satiro (Milan) and Borromini's illusionistic colonnade in the Palazzo Spada (Rome). 6. Further examples of the same spatial motif in Bellini's Sketchbooks, a painting of the Mystic Figure of Christ in the National Gallery (London), and in Donatello's Study for a Flagellation in the Uffizi (Florence). 7. Combinations of this motif with other motifs such as the shell form in Piero della Francesca's Brera Altar (Milan) or with a cross vault in Cima da Conegliano's Saint Peter Martyr, also in the Brera (Milan) and theoretical treatment of these motifs in treatises by Piero della Francesca and Serlio. 8. The motif of a portal as a spatial device in Northern art. 9. The same motif in Italian art and architecture. 10. The motif of a cutaway wall as a spatial device in Northern practice and theory. 11. Italian examples of the same motif. 12. The interior of a room as a spatial device in Northern painting.

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13. The same device in Pollaiuolo's Annunciation (Berlin). Comparison of the window motif in Italian and Northern art. 14.Colonnades as a spatial device in architectural interiors in Italian and Northern engravings: Scamozzi, Vredeman de Vries and Cornelius Loos. 15. Further examples of the same motif in architectural exteriors: Benedetto da Maiano's facade of Santa Maria delle Grazie (Arezzo), Barozzi's view of a loggia in the Uffizi (Florence) and from a treatise by Vredeman de Vries (1601). 16. Church interiors as a spatial motif in sixteenth century Northern practice (Pacher, Altdorfer), and theory (Rodler, 1531). 17. Church interiors as a spatial motif in seventeenth century Northern theory (Hondius) and practice (Steenwyck II). 18. Tombs as a spatial device in Northern (Vredeman de Vries, 1633), and Italian (Galli Bibiena,1740) treatises. 19 Church interiors as a spatial motif in eighteenth (Heinecke, 1737) and nineteenth century treatises (Guiot,1845), La Gournerie, 1884). 20. Seventeenth century painting by Neefs and a twentieth century photograph of the cathedral at Antwerp. Preparatory drawing vs. finished painting in two views of the Grote Kerk in Haarlem by Saenredam. 21. Saenredam's preparatory drawings and painting of the town hall in Amsterdam. 22. Perspective brought not only spatial representation but also a systematic treatment from different viewpoints. Two views of the main market place and Grote Kerk at Haarlem by Berckheyde. 23. Two further views of the same by Ouwater and Berckheyde. 24. Perspective also introduced systematic rendering in different scales. Views of the orphanage at Amsterdam in different scales. Egnatio Danti's maps in the Room of the Globes in the Palazzo Vecchio (Florence). 25. Five views of the Netherlands in different scales in the atlas of Gerard de Jode (1578) and in Vermeer's Allegory of Painting in the Kunsthistorisches Museum (Vienna). 26. Views of Zrich in different scales in an altar by H. Leu, the elder (1497-1502) and Hohenberg's atlas of European cities (1582). Maps of different scales together in the Gallery of Geographical Maps in the Vatican.

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27. Views of the earth and heavens in different scales in the work of Ptolemy, Drer and Barbaro. 28. There were two basic methods of perspective in the Renaissance. One was based on geometrical diminution, illustrated here with examples from Alberti, Piero della Francesca, Serlio and Barbaro. This subsequently became associated with the distance point construction. 29. Further examples of this method in treatises by Plerin (1505), Androuet Du Cerceau (1576) and Galli da Bibiena (1740). 30. A second method known as the legitimate construction became identified with demonstrations involving perspectival windows, such as those illustrated by Alleaume (1643). 31. More complex examples of intersections using the window principle in Marolois (1633), Hamilton (1738) and Monge (1838). 32. Study of intersecting planes in perspective was closely linked with conic sections in the treatises of Lencker (1571), and Frzier, who applied these principles to practical problems of stone cutting. 33. In the nineteenth century perspectival study of conic sections was frequently dealt with in the context of descriptive geometry as in these examples from Cloquet (1823) and Tilscher (1865). 34. In the latter half of the nineteenth century perspectival study of conic sections became ever more abstract as in Tilscher (1865) and emerged as an independent theme in mathematical literature. 35. The regular solids were a significant theme in treatises on perspective as illustrated by Dubreuil (1642-1649), Courtonne (1725) and Highmore (1763). 36. Study of the regular solids went hand in hand with interest in spatial representation of the semi-regular solids by Leonardo (c.1496-1499), Jamnitzer (c.1560-1565) and Sirigatti (1596). 37. This interest, combined with goldsmiths' activities as jewellers, led to ever more extravagant forms in the treatises of Jamnitzer (1568) and Sirigatti (1596). 38. Religious forms such as the cross became a theme of perspectival play in the treatises of Halt (1625), Kirby (1755) and a subject of modern symbolism in a painting by Salvador Dali in the Metropolitan Museum (New York).

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39. Letters became another theme of perspective in the treatises of De Bry (1615), Lencker(1596), Haesel (1672) and Stoer (c.1567). 40. As early as the 1470's the PP Master in Ferrara was exploring perspectival treatment of semi-regular shapes. Beams and columns became a favoured theme in the popular treatise of Dubreuil (1642-1649). 41. Musical instruments, particularly lutes were a frequent perspectival theme in inlaid wood (e.g. the Ducal palace at Urbino), in paintings such as Holbein's Ambassadors and later in treatises by Jamnitzer (c.1560-1565) and Sirigatti (1596). 42. Chairs were another favoured theme in treatises on prespective and anamorphosis by Vasari, Jr. (1594), Dubreuil (1642-1649), and Nicron (1646) and have remained important in our century through the Ames demonstrations and recent art by Daniel Berset (1986). 43. Stairs have been another constant theme in treatises on perspective by Barozzi (1583), Heinecke (1727), Charles Wilson Peale's painting (Boston) and Vredeman de Vries (1633). Escher's work provides both further examples and subtle variants as in the case of his paradoxical Waterfall (1961). 44. Architectural columns have been an important theme in treatises on perspective as in these examples from Blum (1550), Nicron (1646), Bosse (1648) and Bretez (1751). 45. More complex examples of the same theme from Pozzo (1706), Kirby (1755) and Huret (1670). 46. Shadows became a theme in treatises on perspective through Barbaro (1568 based on Drer, 1525) and increasingly important in the work of Highmore (1763), Dubreuil (1642-1649) and Cloquet (1823. 47. Nineteenth century wxamples of shadows as a theme of perspective in treatises by Cloquet (1823) and Gennerich (1865). 48. Links between sundial projection, regular solids and perspective in treatises by Welper (1708) and Bosse (1648). 49. Further connections between sundials and perspective in Huret (1670), Welper (1708) and Maignan (1648). 50. Reflections and perspective in treatises by Dubreuil (1642-1649), Valenciennes (1803) and Cole (1921). 51. Further examples of reflection in treatises on perspective by Jeaurat (1750), Cloquet (1823), Robert (1905) and Brook Taylor (1749).

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52. Reflections in convex mirrors in a fifteenth century Boccaccio manuscript (Paris, BN), and in a painting by Petrus Christus in the Metropolitan Museum (New York). Practical use of such convex mirrors may have been responsible for the curvilinear effects in the miniature by Fouquet (Chantilly) and a painting by Witz (Nrnberg, Germanisches Nationalmuseum). 53. Plane mirrors and perspective by a member of the school of Fontainebleau and Velazquez as well as in treatises by Stevin (1605) and Highmore (1763). 54. Perspectival instruments in treatises by D rer (1532), Pfintzing (1599) and Faulhaber (1610). 55. Further perspectival instruments in treatises by Barozzi, il Vignola (1583), Marolois (1633) and Martius (1789). 56. Perspectival pantographs in Lencker (1571), Marolois (1633), Grollier de Servire (1719) and Watson (19th c.). 57. Camera obscuras and perspective in treatises by Kircher (1646) and Bettini (1645). 58. Links between perspectival instruments and surveying in treatises by Hulsius (1605), Dubreuil (1642-1649), Werner (1763), Specklin (1579) and Bosse (1648). 59. Connections between Roman ruins and perspective as illustrated by Du Prac (1575), Piranesi (1740) and a modern photograph by Herschel Levit (1976). 60. Links between townscapes and perspective in two watercolours of the former court at Innsbruck, attributed to Drer and engravings from a treatise edited by Rodler (1531). 61. Links between perspective, building practice and machines in the Sketchbooks of Bellini, a painting by Piero di Cosimo (Sarasota, Ringling Museum of Art) and in a treatise edited by Rodler (1531). Machines perspectivally rendered subsequently became an independent genre through authors such as Ramelli (1588). 62. Links between perspective, architecture and landscape in a treatise by Edwards (1805). 63. Further examples of perspective, architecture and landscape from Edwards (1805) and Kirby (1755). 64. Multiple views of a scene in Edwards (1805).

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65. Perspective and townscapes in Wood (1809), Edwards (1805) and Tilscher (1865). 66. Perspective and secular interiors from Plerin (1505), Dubreuil (1642-1649), Marolois (1633) and Albrecht (1623). 67. Further examples of perspectival interiors from Rodler (1531), Bischoff (1741), Wood (1809), and Brtschi (1976). 68. Perspective and geometrical treatment of the body in Drer (1534), Barbaro (1568), Schn(1538), Braccelli (1624), the author of the Codex Huygens (c.1570) and Coke (c.1720). 69. Perspectival effects caused by looking up from below (di sotto in su) in a painting by Titian (London, National Gallery), a fresco by Francesco and Bernardino Galliari (Bollate, Villa Castellazzo, c.1572), and in a treatise by Bosse (1648). 70. Perspectival effects produced by looking down or up at human bodies in a painting (Milan, Brera) and a fresco (Mantua, Camera degli Sposi) by Mantegna and treatises by Cousin le jeune (1595), the author of the Codex Huygens (c.1570) and Carlo Urbino (c.1570). 71. Perspectival effects caused by looking up (di sotto in su) at Luca Giordano's Apotheosis of Sant'Andrea, Florence, Chiesa del Carmine and looking down (di su in sotto) at a courtyard in Vredeman de Vries' treatise (1633). 72. Perspectival effects caused by looking up at a painted architectural ceiling in the Marciana Library in Venice and a related engraving from Barozzi, il Vignola (1583). 73. Related effects in Pozzo's ceiling in Il Ges (Rome), in treatises by Pozzo (1700), Has (1583), and an engraving by Escher (1947). 74. Perspective in inlaid wood (intarsia) in the Ducal Palace at Urbino and the Cathedral at Todi. 75. Further examples of perspective applied to inlaid wood in a treatise by Stoer (1567), in the Church of San Giovanni Evangelista in Parma and a writing desk made at Augsburg (c.1560). 76. Links between chiaroscuro and perspective in paintings by Van der Weyden and Van Eyck. 77. Perspective and chiaroscuro applied to architectural contexts in the Villa Borghese (Rome) and the Pitti Palace (Florence).

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78. Use of perspective to separate scenes in a painting by Uccello (Urbino), a Boccaccio manuscript (Munich, BSB), the stage at Vincenza and the gardens at Versailles. 79. Related effects in the Royal Palace at Caserta and in a stage set by Galli Bibiena (1740). 80. Links between perspective, stage scenery and Venetian architecture in a drawing by Serlio with parallels in Cesariano's edition of Vitruvius (1521) and a painting by Canaletto (1726-1729). 81. Links between perspective and Roman ruins in Peruzzi and Serlio. 82. Colonnades as a recurrent motif in Cesariano's edition of Vitruvius (1521), a drawing from the school of Bramante, treatises by Serlio (1583) and Barozzi, il Vignola (1583), drawings by Benozzo Gozzoli and Donato Bramante (Uffizi) and in a painting by the Master of the Barberini Panels (New York, Metropolitan Museum). 83. The development of this motif in Annunciation scenes in Bellini's Sketchbooks, paintings by Crivelli (London, National Gallery) and inlaid wood by Fra Damiano di Bergamo. 84. Perspectival cutaway effects in Roman ruins by Serlio, Francesco di Giorgio Martini, (based on) Brunelleschi and (attributed to) Donato Bramante. 85. Engravings by Pieter Stevens in Marolois (1633) of the Antonine Baths and Emmaus, illustrating how perspective applies equally to archaeological record and anachronistic reconstruction. 86. Idealized ruins in a detail from Mantegna's Saint Sebastian (1480, Paris, Louvre) and engravings by Androuet Du Cerceau. 87. Idealized architecture in a treatise by Vredeman de Vries (1633) and in a painting by Steenwyck II (London, National Gallery). 88. Perspective applied to make architectural features look closer at Caprarola, the Capitoline in Rome and the Villa Frascati at Aldobrandini. 89. Perspective applied to make features of the landscape appear further at Ryxdorp, Wrzburg, Chenonceaux and Versailles. 90. The regimentation of Nature to fixed geometrical patterns to produce perspectival effects in Dubreuil (1642-1649).

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91. Other examples of the regimentation of Nature in drawings by Wolf Huber (1526, 1511-1513), and treatises by Dubreuil (1642-1647) and Bosse (1648). 92. Perspectival gardens in treatises by Androuet Du Cerceau (1584) and Vredeman de Vries (c.1600). 93. Perspective applied to the whole environment in a painting of Versailles (1668) and in a treatise by Decker (1711) 94. Interplay of engravings by Vredeman de Vries (1560,1569) and Cock (1566) showing imaginary buildings and real architecture of the Armoury at Wolfenbttel (early 17th c.). 95. Interplay of real architecture of the Uffizi in Florence, an engraving thereof as if it were a stage set and actual stage sets in Torelli (1644) and Vasari Jr. (c.1594). 96. Interplay of real and imaginary architecture illustrated by a round temple that serves as a Roamn ruin (Francesco di Giorgio Martini), a plan for a mausoleum (Leonardo da Vinci), a temple in a painting of an ideal city (attributed to Giuliano da Sangallo and Domenico Ghirlandaio), the Renaissance Tempietto in Rome (Bramante) and an engraving thereof in a book on Roman ruins (Androuet Du Cerceau). 97. Further examples of interplay between ideal and real, historical and imaginary architecture: an engraving of the Temple of Jupiter by Androuet Du Cerceau and the background to Raphael's Mystic Marriage of the Virgin (Milan, Brera); a temple associated with Troy in Androuet du Cerceau (c.1540) and Bramante's Plan for Saint Peter's; a view through the columns of the Palazzo del Te in Mantua and Androuet Du Cerceau's (1551) engraving of an imaginary ruin. 98. Use of perspective in the interplay between Nature and artifice in a grotto by de Caus (1620), a stage setting by Galli Bibiena (1740) and Le Lorrain's painting of a sea port (Paris, Louvre). 99. Perspective in the interplay between reality and illusion: engravings of the real Orangerie and Trompe l'oeil arch at Rueil and Galli Bibiena's (1740) illusionistic scene of a garden and arch. 100. Trompe l'oeil figure and faade at the U.S. embassy in Paris.

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