edited by -François Gauvin

The astrolabe syndrome

During the wandering seminar, the astrolabe became the symbol of everything that is hopeless, mind-numbing, ominous, tedious, unconstructive, un-museological—in short dead-boring—about scientific instruments and, more generally, historical objects. The talk we had in Berlin on this sophisticated piece of scientific knowledge and craftsmanship certainly did not help alter or challenge the opinion of the group. Why? Because it was no more than a hasty overview of the astrolabe’s purpose and mode of operation. Whatever the socio-historical and scientific importance of this instrument, the astrolabe remains for the group one of the most uninteresting artefacts of the Grand Tour.
How can this situation be explained? Had it been possible to transform this instrument into a knock-out historical object? Or is it “mission impossible”? (I am beginning to think I was genuinely influenced by this summer’s blockbuster movies…) We will see what the Florence Istituto e Museo di Storia della Scienza will do on its website with the astrolabe. If they can replicate for the latter the kind of didactical approaches they developed for Galileo’s compass (http://brunelleschi.imss.fi.it/esplora/compasso/indice.html), there is a good chance some of the most difficult and “boring” aspects of the astrolabe will be removed. Will a website, however, make the astrolabe more popular and user-friendly? That is the ultimate challenge.
What is true of the astrolabe, however, is also true for most scientific objects. What do we do with a 16th-century pair of terrestrial and celestial globes? What about a 17th-century microscope? An 18th-century dividing machine? A 19th-century spectrograph? A 20th-century bubble chamber? Are these instruments of science less boring and easier to understand than an early 15th-century astrolabe by Jean Fusoris? With objects of art, visitors are happy just looking at them and taking away what they want (more so if it deals with Renoir, Monet, Michelangelo, etc.), even though they have usually no clue at all of the cultural and socio-historical genesis of these same works of art. Going to Oxford and seeing the most important collection of astrolabes in Europe doesn’t have the same impact, as one can easily imagine.
Whether an astrolabe or a bubble chamber, scientific objects are still untamed beasts. They are strange and difficult, even though they often have intrinsic esthetic qualities (which explains why they are too often exhibited as decorative art objects, without any explanation whatsoever). How can they be disciplined? How can they become as interesting as an object of art? In other words, can we find a cure for what I would like to call the “astrolabe syndrome”? At least we know the origins of the disease: science museums and museums of the history of science. One could argue of course that it is rather a societal problem, one dealing with a general decline of interest in science. Yet, science is systematically taught in schools at all levels, whereas art is not. We are hammered all the time by governments about the importance of science and technology to the development of a strong economy and, therefore, to the welfare of the nation; not so adamantly regarding the arts (which I agree is a pity). I’m convinced that art itself would be as “esoteric” and difficult as science had it not been for art museums. They were the ones who established the “artistic authority” of Monet, Giacometti, Rodin, etc. Without them, we would have a different understanding of art. With the recent opening in Paris of the Musée du quai Branly (Musée des arts premiers) I strongly believe that ethnology and anthropology will acquire their lettres de noblesse as never before. It is, therefore, to science and history of science museums we have to turn to if we ever want to find a treatment to the astrolabe syndrome.
We saw all kinds of exhibitions during our wanderings, ranging from a few thousands euros to millions of euros. Yet they all failed, in my opinion, in conveying the enthusiasm one single painting from Klimt or Raphael does in an art museum (for example, the new Klimt acquired by the NYC Neue Gallery, for the whooping 135 millions dollars!). I’m sure we can find a treatment to the astrolabe syndrome, but in order to do so we will have to reconsider in toto the practice of museum exhibitions. What does it mean? I’m still not certain. One thing I know however: we need to scrap altogether the current exhibition practices; nothing short than a tabula rasa will do. The new exhibitions will have to integrate a comprehensive understanding of historical, sociological, and cultural agencies that will link science and its material culture to our past, present, and future daily life. New technologies will be necessary; new didactic skills will have to be invented; new spaces designed; etc. Without such a revolution in exhibition practices, I’m afraid the astrolabe syndrome will soon become an uncontrollable pandemic. The wandering seminar certainly has not solve this problem, endemic to all the museums we have seen.