Plattegrond van Brest 1700 - 1735

Editor: So, this is "Plattegrond van Brest," a cityscape made somewhere between 1700 and 1735, rendered in drawing, print, and watercolor. It feels quite formal, a bird's eye view emphasizing the order of the city, maybe even trying to make a statement about power... I’m curious, what stands out to you about this piece? Curator: Ah, yes, power definitely whispers from this map, doesn't it? I see a carefully constructed narrative, not just of geography, but of dominion. The sharp lines, the almost aggressive angles of the fortifications... and yet, the gentle watercolor washes bring a certain…dare I say…vulnerability. It’s as if the mapmaker is both proclaiming, "We are strong!" and quietly confessing, "But even stone crumbles." Doesn't the title, “Plattegrond," feel somewhat…cold? Like the architect of a grand scheme, completely divorced from messy ground-level existence? Almost godlike... Do you get that feeling at all? Editor: Yes, absolutely! The precision gives that sense of detachment. And "Plattegrond"—straight to the point. Did this kind of mapmaking serve primarily strategic or decorative purposes at the time? Curator: Both, actually! Think of them as Baroque era selfies. Displaying strategic knowledge WAS a status symbol. To understand a landscape like this, is to feel powerful, almost to claim the land for yourself. A wall is, at once, protective and limiting; it can invite the most profound connections or painful isolations. Don’t you think it's funny, though, how the map includes tiny ships off the coast? Were they worried about people not understanding this was a coastal town? Editor: I love that. A slightly desperate need for clarity perhaps? Looking at the sharp angles against the soft watercolour… there is something beautifully strange in its confidence. Curator: Exactly! Maps, you know, always tell us as much about ourselves, and our perceived control, as they do about the actual places that they depict.