A dusty sign hangs innocently in a hidden corner of my workspace in the Wisconsin Historical Society map stacks. It displays a statement by American geographer John K. Wright:

Maps are always hard taskmasters. With words you can be as vague as you please, but maps force you to commit yourself or acknowledge that you do not know.

Particularly when I am working with early maps, I wonder which lines are fact and which are estimation. How specifically do you have to measure a place to really know it, or to portray it to other people?

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New Mapp of America Septentrionale, 1670

17th-century map of North America designed by Mousieur Sanson, geographer to the French king. Rendered into English and illustrated by Richard Blome by his Majesties special command. View the original source document

For example, look at the New Mapp of America Septentrionale designed by cartographer Nicolas Sanson, geographer to the French king, and then rendered into English and illustrated by Richard Blome, circa 1670.

This map was designed by Mousieur Sanson, geographer to the French king, Louis XIV. It was rendered into English and illustrated by Richard Blome by his Majesties special command.

This map, part of our George S. Parker Map Collection, gave readers of the late 1600s, a fresh glimpse of the New World. It was created based on reports from missionaries, explorers, and other travelers. The western Great Lakes, such as "Lack Superieur," are half drawn as though obscured by fog, extending only as far as reports allowed. California is boldly committed to paper as a large island off the western coast, the mapmaker's interpretation of erroneous written accounts and a common misconception of the times. An unexplored patch of the interior of North America, on the other hand, acknowledges a lack of information. Richard Blome filled blank space with imaginative drawings of animals, including a strange two-legged lizard and prancing deer.

I treasure this artistry, tucked around the intellectual meat of the map, accurate or not.

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Bird's Eye View of Black River Falls, 1872

Drawn by H. Brosius. View the original source document

Even after areas were known, people continued mixing art and interpretation into the science of cartography. The 1860s through the 1920s were marked by explosive growth in the production of bird's-eye-view maps: drawings of cities as they might appear from the air.

Artists were hired by every city or village that wanted to show off their town to prospective residents and businesses. Accurate road and building locations fused with artistic presentation of landscapes packed with artful trains and steamboats instead of fanciful animals, highlighting civilization rather than wilderness.

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Humorous Pictorial Map of Minnesota, 1976

Map collection call number H GX911 1976 C6.

With modern-day aerial photography, satellite imaging, and other advances in mapmaking, there is no lack of information to commit to paper, or computer. With all of this scientific knowledge and technological power, is there still space for art in maps?

I laughed the other day while cataloging a map of Minnesota published in a 1976 edition of Minneapolis magazine. It was filled with caricatures like the Mayo brothers of the famed Mayo Clinic and Paul Bunyan. It included the phrase "Minnesota, land of 10,000 Swedes, a rag-tag assortment of Finlanders, Norwegians, stray dogs, and semi-professional hockey teams." I saw that with a modern flavor, and with humor replacing elegance, the embellishment of maps continues.

About the North American History and Genealogy Blog

The North American History and Genealogy blog is written by staff and highlights the world class collections, recent research, acquisitions, and services available through the Wisconsin Historical Society's Library and Archives.