Fig. 1. Muhammad ibn al-Fattuh al-Khama’iri, Spain. Astrolabe, 1236/7. Brass, 10 x 7.5 x 1.4 inches (24.9 x 19.3 x 3.6 cm). On Loan From the Adler Planetarium, Chicago.
On the evening of March 1, I was driving west on 103rd Street when I encountered a stunning site. As I crested a hill, the narrow crescent of an enormous moon hovered above the horizon. I was awestruck, not only because it was beautiful, but because it was multivalent. That descending satellite was also a celestial instrument. At that moment, it functioned as a clock, communicating the time of night; as a compass, indicating directions; as a calendar, marking the time of the year when the moon sets just north of due west; and as a ritual calendar, marking the first day of the sacred month of Ramadan for Muslims around the world.
In our digital world, it is easy for many of us to conscribe the function of the heavens to aesthetics — a beautiful view. In the premodern world, however, the celestial bodies in the day and night skies were essential for keeping time, mapping locations and performing the rituals associated with our beliefs. These needs were universal, crossing geographies, politics and religions. Therefore, astronomical knowledge developed through both careful observations and cross-cultural exchange. Mapping the Heavens: Art, Astronomy, and Exchange Between the Islamic Lands and Europe on view at The Nelson-Atkins Museum of Art explores the historical dialogues that advanced global astronomy through books, paintings and instruments. Co-curated with Jason Dean and Finch Collins at the Linda Hall Library of Science, Engineering, and Technology, and featuring 14 early modern printed books from their extraordinary Special Collections, Mapping the Heavens focuses on dialogues between specific astronomers and explores the sources that shaped how we understand the universe.
Though knowledge traveled many routes from the eastern Mediterranean and Islamic World to Europe, we began our story in the 1200s in Seville, Spain — the sister city of Kansas City — with a finely crafted astrolabe. [Fig. 1] Created by Muhammad ibn al-Fattuh al-Khama’iri in 1236/1237 CE, this precision instrument contained interchangeable plates to chart over 20 stars at multiple latitudes. Lent by the Adler Planetarium in Chicago, this masterwork may be one of the last Islamic instruments made in Seville, before the Christian Reconquest of the city in 1248.
The astronomical knowledge kept in southern Spain thus traveled north. Arabic manuscripts that preserved the ancient treatises, including the works of the Greek astronomer Ptolemy (about 85-165 CE) and hundreds of observations recorded by Muslim scientists were taken to Toledo, Spain, under the direction of Alfonso X, where they were translated into Latin and Castilian. Two of the books derived from these efforts in Spain, Ptolemy’s Almagest and the Alfonsine Tables, are on display in the exhibition. Ptolemy’s Almagest also inspired Muslim scientists. The Kitab suwar al-kawakib al-thabita (Book of the Images of the Fixed Stars), written in the 900s by the Persian astronomer ‘Abd al-Rahman al-Sufi (903-986) documents the movements of 48 constellations. A fine painting of the constellation Sagittarius in the Nelson-Atkins collection from a 15th-century Persian manuscript of al-Sufi’s work, will go on display in the exhibition in June. [Fig. 2]
The slow but steady flow of astronomical knowledge into Europe turned into a torrent after the invention of the printing press with moveable type in the 1400s. The printed book literally transformed society. Printing enabled the rapid distribution of knowledge across a wider population than those who had access to handwritten manuscripts. Printed translations of works by Arab and Persian astronomers inspired new generations of scientific advancement. One of the most important books in the history of astronomy, De revolutionibus orbium coelestium, by Nicolau Copernicus (1473-1543), employed a geometric model we know as a “Tusi couple.” [Fig. 3]. Developed by the Persian astronomer Nasir al-Din al-Tusi (1201-1274), this model helped us understand how retrograde motion of planets worked and could be tracked. Copernicus was able to take the next revolutionary step and propose why, arguing that the sun must be at the center of the universe, rather than the Earth. The Linda Hall Library has two copies of this famous book, a first and second edition, which will rotate during the exhibition.
The exchange of astronomical knowledge, however, was not just a one-way street, from East to West. Additional objects in the exhibition illustrate the utilization of a shared global astronomy. These works include a Jacob’s Quadrant made in the Ottoman Empire and inscribed with Syrian and French words, lent by the Adler Planetarium and a Hebrew astrolabe lent by the Klein Collection in Overland Park, Kansas. Sometimes, the crossing of religious and cultural boundaries was a source of tension, as in Julius Schiller’s (1580-1627) efforts to recast the ancient and “pagan” skies as Christian-themed constellations is Coelum stellatum Christianum (1627). However, more often, we found that scientists formed their own communities of like-minded colleagues working to the same ends. These communities were not limited by time, culture or place. This is wonderfully illustrated in an allegorical print in a large celestial atlas, Prodromus astronomaie (1690) by Johannes Hevelius (1611-1687). [Fig. 4] Here, we meet a diverse gathering of scientists, including Ptolemy, Ulugh Beg, Tycho Brahe, and Hevelius himself. As individuals, they each mark moments in the history of global astronomy. Standing together, they represent its future.
– Kimberly Masteller, Curator of South and Southeast Asian Art, The Nelson-Atkins Museum of Art
