Wednesday, 12 November 2008

The Nuremberg Chronicle






The first photograph is from a copy of the Nuremberg Chronicle held at Chetham's Library, actually photographed at the window seat where Marx and Engels used to meet up, and that's the shadow of the window of the oldest medieval settlement in the North of England over it, that is! The Nuremberg Chronicle is one of the oldest printed books, an incunabulum. (I make no apologies for using wikipedia to reference to here, although I use to bollock my students for using it as their primary essay source, as it is like the giant index in the sky- a really good place to glean the general facts of something!) This copy of the chronicle is particularly interesting as it has been bound with a handwritten translation done in Warrington, in the North of England. I, like many in England, assumed that Warrington had been invented as a place at some point in the late eighties as its primary topographical feature are roundabouts and Ikea, and there used to be this advert trying to persuade people that it was a sensible place to house a business in (I think) with this guy with a Chinese accent going 'Warrrington- Runcorn, its the heart of the nation!

I digress, but it astonishing to learn that Warrington was an ancient seat of learning and almost had one of the first universities in the world. This early Renaissance period has become increasingly important to my understanding of the photographs I took at Saint-Sulpice on the day of the Equinox. The time was such a mash up of superstition colliding with organised religion, and the Catholic Church subsuming pagan beliefs. This is evident, for instance, in the very architecture of Saint-Sulpice, the second image (both of these quoted in 'Discovering the Vernacular Landscape' by John Brinckerhoff):-

'There is very little doubt that during the entire Middle Ages there existed the belief in a distinct relationship between stone and stars'

Peter Fingesten, The Eclipse of Symbolism


'Today when the original treatment of stone has disappeared, we are only occasionally aware of it, chiefly there where old stained glass windows still gleam and where their light transforms the stone. We should think of the Cathedral not only in terms of colour, but as being suffused with the atmosphere of light….the building should ‘shine’, ‘sparkle’, ‘glitter’, ‘dazzle’…it would however be false to say that the Cathedral denies its stone character. It keeps it throughout, only it idealizes it by giving it a gem like, transfigured, vibrant, crystalline aspect'

Hans Sedlmayr, Die Enstehung der Kathedrale

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The role of printing in the shift of understanding during this time is, of course, immense, and this particular copy of the book seems to me, to beautifully represent the transition.