Tweede blad van een driedelig beweegbaar planetarium 1695 - 1726

Editor: This is "Tweede blad van een driedelig beweegbaar planetarium," dating from sometime between 1695 and 1726. It's an anonymous engraving on paper. It's so precise and technical looking – almost like a blueprint of the cosmos. What exactly are we looking at here, and what might it mean? Curator: Well, aren't we all just blueprints in progress, darling? This, quite literally, *is* a map of the cosmos – or, rather, part of one. It's a piece of a movable planetarium, designed to illustrate the movements of celestial bodies. Think of it as an early form of edutainment. Editor: Edutainment, I like that! It definitely seems like more than just a scientific diagram, though. There's something artistic about the precision, almost reverential. Curator: Absolutely! There’s an inherent beauty in the order and predictability that people at the time desperately tried to discover and, maybe even more desperately, *believe* in, wouldn't you say? I feel transported looking at this object, like some mystical window into an ordered understanding of the whole damn Universe! Plus, there is something infinitely charming and funny about trying to illustrate something like, say, Jupiter on a small, flattened bit of paper. Doesn't that give you the giggles just a tiny bit? Editor: It kind of does! So, beyond the science, what does its creation tell us about the people who made and used it? Curator: That's the golden question, isn’t it? It whispers to us about their relentless curiosity, their desire to make sense of the unfathomable, the profound drive we have as people to organize, measure, draw boundaries, find reasons… Ultimately, to believe that maybe we do know something. Which is perhaps both utterly tragic and infinitely marvelous. Editor: That’s a really beautiful, and slightly sad, thought. It really reframes how I see the print now. Curator: Isn't it delicious? Art doing what it is born to do!