On a summer day in 1674, in the small Dutch city of Delft, Antoni van Leeuwenhoek—a cloth salesman, local bureaucrat, and self-taught natural philosopher—gazed through a tiny lens set into a brass holder and discovered a never-before imagined world of microscopic life. At the same time, in a nearby attic, the painter Johannes Vermeer was using another optical device, a camera obscura, to experiment with light and create the most luminous pictures ever beheld.
“See for yourself!” was the clarion call of the 1600s. Scientists peered at nature through microscopes and telescopes, making the discoveries in astronomy, physics, chemistry, and anatomy that ignited the Scientific Revolution. Artists investigated nature with lenses, mirrors, and camera obscuras, creating extraordinarily detailed paintings of flowers and insects, and scenes filled with realistic effects of light, shadow, and color. By extending the reach of sight the new optical instruments prompted the realization that there is more than meets the eye. But they also raised questions about how we see and what it means to see. In answering these questions, scientists and artists in Delft changed how we perceive the world.
In Eye of the Beholder, Laura J. Snyder transports us to the streets, inns, and guildhalls of seventeenth-century Holland, where artists and scientists gathered, and to their studios and laboratories, where they mixed paints and prepared canvases, ground and polished lenses, examined and dissected insects and other animals, and invented the modern notion of seeing. With charm and narrative flair Snyder brings Vermeer and Van Leeuwenhoek—and the men and women around them—vividly to life. The story of these two geniuses and the transformation they engendered shows us why we see the world—and our place within it—as we do today.
Eye of the Beholder was named "A Best Art Book of the Year" by Christie's and "A Best Read of the Year" by New Scientist in 2015.
An expert on Victorian science and culture, Fulbright scholar Laura J. Snyder just completed a term as President of the International Society for the History of Philosophy of Science, and is Associate Professor of Philosophy at St. John's University.
One of the things that we sometimes overlook when we tell the stories of the way the world we know came to be is how much of it happened at the same time. We look at this development or that discovery in isolation and often don't consider the other things that may have been going on at the time, perhaps even in almost the same place.
Laura Snyder's 2015 Eye of the Beholder bridges one of those gaps by observing the way that different people in the Netherlands in the 17th century began using lenses for their different work. For painters, such as the famous Johannes Vermeer, lenses were part of devices that allowed them to develop better means of showing perspective in their work. For naturalists, such as Antoni van Leeuwenhoek, they created a way of observing the world at a level never before possible.
The first used a "camera obscura" and the second a microscope. The camera obscura involves projecting an image onto a surface by using light and lenses. The same basic theory operates in movie theaters still today, even if the light sources are far more complex. Van Leeuwenhoek's microscope placed an item behind a single lens and moved it until its magnified image appeared clearly in that lens. Modern optical microscopes use compound lenses and a different light source, and van Leeuwenhoek did not invent the device. He was one of the first to use it so widely in natural observations, though.
And as Laura Snyder points out, both of these things happened at more or less the same time just a few city blocks from each other in the city of Delft in the Netherlands. Eye discusses the way people began to develop lenses that altered what they saw -- bringing the distant close, as Galileo and others did. It then works through how lenses aided painters as the technology of the camera obscura improved, and in parallel chapters describes how van Leeuwenhoek improved on a microscope design that let him and others see the very small in detail not before possible. Dr. Snyder ties this together with some meditations on how changes like these affected the way that people thought of "seeing," closing her book with some reflections on the philosophy of sight and how it continues to both change today and still depend on developments that Vermeer and van Leeuwenhoek represent.
Unfortunately, Eye does all of this in messy fashion that clearly calls for better editing and a tightened vision of just what it wants to do. The discussion of which painters did and didn't or might and might not have used a camera obscura meanders far too much. So does speculation on how the different figures of the story interacted, and Snyder's exploration of some paintings by Vermeer and others isn't served by their absence from the pictorial section of the book. Dr. Snyder obviously did significant research (the endnotes section is almost a fifth of the book) but seems to have hurried in weaving that research into a directed narrative. A couple of long and uncharacteristically thoughtful Amazon reviews highlight some more technical problems with the way she discusses both Vermeer and his work, even though some of those things would not be apparent to the casual reader.
Over the past 20 years or so, relatively brief and popular books have explored how some aspects of our modern world, now taken for granted, came into being only after some long and difficult work. They often provide a little food for philosophical thought, speculating on how these developments changed the way people saw their world almost as much as they changed how things were done. Many of these are excellent work; Dava Sobel's 1995 Longitude is an example. Dr. Snyder may have aimed for such with Eye of the Beholder, but her scattered narrative and sometimes overly chatty style significantly weaken her effort.
I don't know why I was under the impression that this was historical fiction. it's not. I really should have added it to my list of books to read sooner. What a rich and wonderful history of both Johannes Vermeer and Antoni van Leeuwenhoek. The author serves partly as a time traveling sleuth to understand if there might have been a relationship between Johannes Vermeer and Antoni van Leeuwenhoek. To do this, she sifts through and parses research done by other but has conducted quite a bit of novel research of her own -- that sometimes disagreed with other experts who reasserted this possible connection. The argument she assembled is both beautiful and compelling. In constructing her argument, she told the story of Johannes Vermeer and Antoni van Leeuwenhoek's separate lives, the story of the people living in their town, and entangled it with the history of painting and the history of the microscope. How brilliant! What a joy to read.
An intriguing study of optics--early history and then the imaginative uses made of optics by artist Johannes Vermeer and father of microbiology Antoni van Leeuwenhoek. As a fan of Vermeer's art, I found the explanations--the close study of his paintings in terms of his use of light and the effects on emotion and tone--to be absolutely fascinating. Van Leeuwenhoek's studies were equally intriguing, although I admit I couldn't listen to some of the experiments done by him, his contemporaries, and earlier scientists. Lovely prose and images. Not certain audio is the best format, as I wanted to look at the pictures described, even those I knew well, to understand the discussion better (although I'm not certain there are prints in the book either.) Marston has a lovely alto voice that suits the material perfectly. Great narrator, except for some mispronunciations of place names. The Dutch and Latin passages certainly seemed fluent and correct. The book makes a good companion to the documentary on the same subject (well, no van Leeuwenhoek), Tim's Vermeer.
This is an interesting exploration of how the artist Vermeer and the scientist Leuwenhoeck changed our way of seeing. The author is very circumspect over whether they actually knew each other, but it seems they probably did. It dragged in places, but that may be because she was covering similar ground. I like her idea that our brain as well as our eyes have to be trained to see.
Atrévete a saber, atrévete a mirar, atrévete a explorar la naturaleza, la luz, los misterios del mundo invisible, el color. Esas fueron las motivaciones internas de Vermeer y Leeuwenhoek, quienes por medio de cristales transformaron nuestra idea de lo que signifca "ver". Magnífico libro :)
Ciencia y arte a partes iguales en este magnífico ensayo de Laura J. Snyder que, a través de dos genios como Vermeer y Leeuwenhoek, ambos coetáneos, ambos de Delft, ambos posiblemente amigos, nos sumerge en los Países Bajos del siglo XVII, en una de sus épocas doradas. Sobre las biografías y las obras de ambos, construye un relato en el que se muestra la sociedad neerlandesa de la época, su arte, universal, lleno de genios como el propio Vermeer o Rembrandt y el nacimiento del método científico, la labor de personajes tan variados como Constantijn Huyguens, que sería el padre de Christiaan, de Hooke, de Francis Bacon, de Descartes y tantos otros. El arte y la ciencia se benefician de la óptica, hasta el punto de que su exploración no sólo da conocimiento sino que su representación se convierte en arte, de forma que es difícil distinguir uno de otro. El arte conoce una nueva concepción, reinventándose. Mostrar lo que se ve y no lo que se quiere ver, usando para ello, no sólo la capacidad y pericia del artista, sino tecnologías como la cámara oscura que permite percibir cosas que antes no se les prestaba atención. El microscopio y el mundo invisible de Leeuwenhoek se une al telescopio de Galileo para crear una nueva visión de la ciencia, un camino que seguimos recorriendo. Es un placer descubrir o intuir cuáles fueron las técnicas artísticas, tecnológicas y científicas que nos descubrieron estos dos genios y que Laura J. Snyder cuenta tan acertadamente. Un gran libro que se hace corto.
He disfrutado mucho y me he sumergido más en el pasado que con casi cualquier novela histórica. La autora hace un trabajo de reconstrucción estupendo y combina magistralmente aspectos de la historia del arte con otros de la historia de la ciencia. La estructura alternante del libro (entre Van Leeuwenhoek y Vermeer) funciona muy bien y Snyder sabe equilibrar muy bien (con prudencia y transparencia) las partes más especulativas con las más documentadas. Siendo un texto nada superficial, lleno de información y riguroso, también es una lectura amena y absorbente. Realmente, me quito el sombrero.
Realmente, si tuviera que irme a vivir al S. XVII haría todo lo posible por acabar en los Países Bajos…
No tardaré casi nada en empezar otro libro de la misma autora, “The Philosophical Breakfast Club”. Me he quedado con ganas de más. Y con ganas, también, de recuperar el ciclo barroco de Neal Stephenson.
No sé qué decir de esta maravilla aparte de que ME HA ENCANTADO. La traducción me ha parecido fantástica, la edición de Acantilado de 10 con las notas donde tienen que estar, y no al final... Bajo mi punto de vista es un libro para todo el público, no teniendo por qué ser uno amante de la pintura y/o las ciencias naturales. Top shelf!!
This book is described as being about Vermeer and Leeuwenhoek's use of new optical tools (the camera obscura and the microscope) to expand the horizons of art and science. Unfortunately it has a few flaws that detract from what could have been a more interesting book. First, much of what is written about Vermeer's use of the camera obscura is as much conjecture as established fact. The book has some reproductions of Vermeer's art in the appendix. It would have made a lot more sense to position them next to the text that was discussing the art. Perhaps if I had read this in a paper book it would have been easier to go back and forth, but as it was, the discussions of Vermeer's techniques lacked weight without the pictures to look at. I found the sections on Leeuwenhoek's work with microscopes much more interesting and easy to understand. Also, Leeuwenhoek's use of his instrument is much more a matter of record than Vermeer's use of the camera obscura.
The other flaw in the book was the author's obsession with "proving" that the two men knew each other. They were born and lived only a few hundred feet apart for most of their lives and Leeuwenhoek was named the executor of Vermeer's estate when he died. The author went on to list many more pieces of evidence that suggests that they were acquainted. At some point I thought "OK they probably knew each other. What is the big deal". I have a feeling the author was in some kind of academic argument with someone and I was just listening to half the argument while reading the book.
I guess I learned a few things I didn't already know (more about Leeuwenhoek than Vermeer) but I had to wade through a lot of nothing to get there.
This was a good choice to read after finishing the biography of Leonardo da Vinci. In this book, we learn about the further achievements of two men whose work builds in many ways on parts of da Vinci's work, in both art and science.
Author Laura Snyder argues that two 17th century Dutchmen - Vermeer and Leeuwenhoek - each in his own way "changed forever how people saw the world around them." Snyder makes the case compellingly for the microscopist Leeuwenhoek, but less effectively for the artist Vermeer. She gives more examples, more relevant details and much more descriptive context for Leeuwenhoek's work, while her arguments for Vermeer's impact on "how we learn to see" are disjointed, fairly general and without as much context.
A very frustrating aspect of the book was my discovery upon finishing it that there are about 60 pages of almost useless endnotes. They are not useless in terms of content (quite the contrary) - they are useless because nowhere in the book's text is there any indication of which content is end-noted with additional details or references. What is the point of adding a note on page 370 about Francis Bacon's opinion on the utility of the microscope, if it isn't called out back on page 189, where the topic is discussed? Presumably this was a compromise between adequately referencing details on the one hand, without making the book seem too academic on the other. Likely the editor or publisher's decision, but a really dumb one in my opinion.
As an added comment - the book is a deceptively slow read, probably because it is packed with historical details that do (mostly) relate to the book's thesis.
I really loved this one. I never read something like this, the author writes two briographies in one book, which is a high stakes bet. Two guys, a painter (Vermeer) and a scientist (Leeuwenhoek) that lived on Delft (Netherlands) in the 1600s during the times the microscope was invented. I'm not totally sold on this, I was way more interested in Leeuwenhoek and I wish she had added more optics explanations with graphics and microscope observations (even in black and white). She makes an excellent job at conveying how marvellous it is to see the microscopic world.
“Eye of the Beholder: Johannes Vermeer, Antoni van Leeuvenhoek and the reinvention of seeing,” by Laura J. Snyder (Norton, 2015). Snyder here mines a slightly earlier period and a different country from “The Philosophical Breakfast Club.” Here she argues that in Delft, the Netherlands, during the second half of the 17th century, Leeuvenhoek and Vermeer developed a dramatic new way of seeing the world, through microscopy and painting. The context: the slowly developing understanding that light moves through space, that the eye does not radiate the things that we see. She provides a great deal of detailed context on the development of theories of sight, increased understanding of perspective, the invention of the camera obscura, which enabled artists and “natural philosophers” to see the world more clearly than ever before. A great deal of the book is tendentious: “Vermeer probably knew Leeuvenhoek because they lived close together in the same small city, they moved in the same circles, L was V’s executor, they probably did this or that,” etc etc. A great deal of supposition---supported by much fact, but supposition nonetheless. Still, fascinating. How V probably used the camera obscura for his later works as they grew in detail, how his use of paint and color to indicate shadow and light became increasingly subtle, how he focused on intimate moments in the lives of women, etc. Also, the development of the telescope and microscope; how Galileo and his contemporaries had to learn how to understand what they were seeing: how Galileo used his understanding of perspective to realize that what he was seeing on the surface of the moon were shadows caused by mountains, not a smooth, mottled surface. How they were led and influenced by Francis Bacon and Robert Hooke. Bacon the anti-Cartesian: give me actual physical evidence, repeat the experiments, don’t use mind and reason alone to explain the world. L. developed a microscope and was obsessed with what he saw, shaving thinner and thinner slices of plants, animals, etc. and drawing what he saw with accuracy that is still extraordinary today. L’s tremendous discovery: there were millions of tiny animals living in an invisible microscopic world, in every drop of water, in just about everything including us. I particularly love Snyder’s analyses of V’s paintings: how he painted shadows on shadows, used hints of color to influence what we think we see, how he painted the same things (one map, for example, used three times) to show different phases of light, how he layered pigment—how the pigments were made, etc. A very rich book, suppositions notwithstanding. Engaging, very clearly written, enjoyable---though I had to read it in small doses because there was so much there.
This is an interesting and scholarly book that deals with the scientific revolution and the cluster of genius of the early 17th century Dutch Republic. It mainly focuses on Vermeer and Leeuwenhoek, who lived across the street from one another and facilitates description of the larger issues. Lens grinding was all the rage and allowed people to extend their senses via telescopes, microscopes and the camera obscura. Using the device revealed unexpected details of the world and in addition to seeing these details people had to learn to interpret them with an objective eye. For example, when Galileo saw the moons of Jupiter and disrupted what many wanted to believe about the order of the universe,, many skeptics refused to even LOOK at what he saw – don’t confuse me with facts! The Royal Society was created and with the influence of Bacon and directorship of Hooke prorogated the scientific method. Leeuwenhoek was a major force here since we was a meticulous experimentalist, developing new ways of using microscopes and also developed novel ways of calibrating microscopic size. Hooke had published the Micrographia before Leeuwenhoek published anything, but Hooke showed tiny details of things that could be seen with the naked eye, like lice. Leeuwenhoek was the first to see a world of living things that could ONLY be seen with a device and radically altered the way we think about the world. Vermeer used the camera obscura to allow detailed painting that also showed the way we see things, especially the role of light and reflection. Although this book was published in 2015 it makes no mention of the experiments described in the wonderful movie “Tim’s Vermeer” which convincingly showed how the artist used a variety of optical devices to literally copy a scene. I was aware of the artistic, commercial, and scientific contributions of the tiny Dutch Republic but this book really drives it home, It was a truly amazing time and place that made a disproportionate contribution to creating the modern world.
Having read this book I will look at Dutch art of the 1600's in an entirely new way. What better recommendation for reading this book? Snyder writes very carefully to reconstruct the social, economic, and intellegentia's worlds of Delft, the Netherlands, and England (and to a certain extent other countries/polities of Europe. Like Vermeer she is able to describe so that we can see clearly the worlds these two men lived in; a good historian, she carefully distinguishes between what is fact, what is reasonably likely a reconstruction, and what is speculation founded on incomplete data. She explains clearly what were the instruments (newly being employed by more scientists and artists, but not necessarily newly invented) so that the reader can understand how they worked, what were their dis/advantages, and how we can perceive that Vermeer and other artists were using them. While I had known something of van Leeuwenhoek before reading this book, I now understand more clearly how remarkable an "inquirer" as he termed it, he was, how skilled a technician, how modest, and how tenacious in his search for new worlds to see. Snyder links together the invention of the telescope and Copernicus' "seeing" the heavens (several decades earlier) with the use of the camera obscura and other devices so that artists could see the world of their daily lives and with the use of the microscope to see tiny worlds unimagined in so vivid a way that one understands why the subtitle is "the reinvention of seeing." I highly recommend it.
Valuable insights into the late 17th century boom of science and the new forms of optics used in art as well. A parallel line between two towering Dutch figures makes for interesting and informative reading.
This book may have the best, and most readable, history of the new Royal Society’s immense, no, incomparable impact on the development of the scientific method espoused by Bacon and taken to the limits by men like Leeuwenhoek who was the primary inventor of the microscopic method that enabled him and others to use lenses to discover the massive worlds of unseen things living in everything in the world around us. The unparalleled discoveries in this period of time redefined natural philosophy and turned the ancient assumptions birthed mainly by Aristotle into the burgeoning world of modern science that changed all things forever.
The theme that using lenses in both art and science changed the way we see, because two men used light to reveal what was once unseen and unknown into common knowledge.
I read it twice, an unimaginable triumph for me. The first time I drudged through, the second I finally saw the light. It’s thrilling to discover the history of so much that we take for granted each day.
I really like the central thesis that Van Leeuwenhoek and Vermeer were using optical devices to see what previously had been unseen. Van Leeuwenhoek was always looking through microscopes at anything he could lay his hands on and Vermeer used the camera obscura to look at how colours change under different light conditions. Laura Snyder doesn't really know if there was any relationship between the two who lived in the same area of Delft at the same time (although they were born at the same time, Vermeer died much younger). The narrator was terrific - this is the kind of book that needs a really great narrator or the listener's mind wanders.
Realising that there are only a certain number of books that I can read in my lifetime, I gave up on this one half-way through. The premise is interesting, but the book is a cacophany of words, tossed together like a salad. For many, many pages it hardly made sense. Where was the editor? Snyder meanders from one topic to another, then circles back in on herself. And there is the constant supposition and conjecture when the evidence refuses to give us facts e.g. "IF Leeuwenhoek owned a copy of this book, he MAY have lent it to Vermeer, IF indeed they knew eachother." My eyes got tired of rolling, so I gave up.
I made it half way through this book. Snyder presents interesting facts about the lives of Vermeer and Leeuwenhoeck and how they intersect (or potentially intersect). However, it seemed filled with too much detail, much of which did not relate to a central idea. I was disappointed because her book about early scientists "The Philosophical Breakfast Club" was a pleasure to read. The latter explored the development of science as its own discipline and the small group of English academics leading that movement. It stayed on topic and read much more easily than this work.
I struggled to read many pages at one sitting and found it somewhat repetitive as the author shows us what she calls the revolution in seeing by Dutchmen Vermeer and Leeuwenhoek. But the history is interesting and the presentation thorough. She’s trying to show us a revolution of the mind and the eye, but some of the speculation got tedious, Vermeer might have done this or walked there or tried this... but the point was made that though the evidence doesn’t show exactly how they did the things that got them to see the world anew, they had to have done something like what she’s speculated.
It was a good exposition of the talents of Vermeer and van Leeuwenhoek, but from the title, I had expected more than circumstantial evidence to tie the two men together. Same city, same time, same street but nothing that proves that they worked in the same circle. If you're looking for the ties that bind, this will disappoint. The average rating is not for the lack of evidence, but the uneven, and sometimes interrupted progress in telling each story.
Laura Snyder brings together an academic's rigor with a very writerly imagination to conjecture that two outstanding men of the Enlightenment, Vermeer and Leeuwenhoek, might have met and influenced each other. Leeuwenhoek was an able urban administrator who also took a fancy to lens crafting, and then making his own microscopes, and then staring into them for hours and making solid drawings of what he saw, in the end sharing his vision of the microscopic world with the Royal Society, and so leaving a permanent mark on the modern scientific sensibility. Vermeer was a Dutch master painter who very probably used lens-based tools like the camera obscura to produce his art. Snyder argues that the men made innovations into how people see that left a deep imprint on the modern world, and deserve to be considered as deeply interrelated pieces of our Enlightenment-era heritage.
Whether the men actually knew each or not, they shared the habitus of Delft in the 17th century, a place that comes alive in this book. It had a busy commercial port doing constant trade with the British and other European ships who plied seas all over the world. It was where the Dutch mastered craft and manufacturing techniques such as the blue-and-white porcelain that we know as "china." Even more fascinatingly, it was part of the Dutch Republic, the first European nation-state driven by middle-class administration, meaning their focus was on commerce, finance, and they gave less and less weight to their aristocratic lines. They developed legal institutions more progressive than in other countries, like with more rights for women to own property and separate from her husband in cases of abuse or neglect. As with England, relations between Catholics and Protestants were extremely testy at times, which makes it interesting to contrast the relatively successful and Protestant Leeuwenhoek with the more down-on-his-luck and Catholic Vermeer.
The book will bore readers who are not interested in both art history and the history of science. Personally, I found new delights on almost every page. A long background section on the tools of visuality, from Alberti veils to the camera obscura, left me with some notes to take to YouTube later. And passages covering detailed readings of Vermeer's paintings should probably get reviewed again with the paintings on hand. And there are many portraits of fascinating men of the era like Constantijn Huygens Jr., the brother of the more famous Christiaan, but also a keen maker of instruments. Constantijn was more of a socialite, and seems to have known and connected all the major minds of the region, from London to Amsterdam, in this era. And there is one semi-villain throughout, Robert Hooke. We have read in places before, such as Dana Sobel'sLongitude: The True Story of a Lone Genius Who Solved the Greatest Scientific Problem of His Time, what a spicy character he could be.
I picked up this book because the National Gallery of Art was hosting a Vermeer (and other Dutch masters) exhibit, and I wanted to gain some insight into Vermeer before I went to the exhibit. Sadly, I barely scraped the surface before going to the exhibit. I did, however, watch the Penn & Teller movie, Tim's Vermeer (highly recommend). Although Snyder does not take on Tim Jenison (of Tim's Vermeer) directly, it would appear they have conflicting views on Vermeer's methods. If you want to dip your toe in the controversy over Vermeer's methods, that movie and this book probably would be a decent combo.
Anyway, as for this book, it was a two for one. It covers the life and work of Johannes Vermeer and Antoni van Leeuwenhoek. Exclusively evaluating their achievements, they do not appear to share much: van Leeuwenhoek invented microscopes to study microscopic organisms, and Vermeer painted scenes and everyday life with startling accuracy. Snyder's pitch though is that these two innovators of their respective crafts knew each other, may have influenced each other, embody the milieu of Dutch scientific discovery at the time, and represent a change in the way people thought and approached innovation. First, they spent a significant portion of their lives within walking distance of each other in the town of Delft. Second, they shared numerous personal and professional connections. Third, they both experimented heavily with emerging lens technology to enhance their work, which suggests that they may have influenced each other. Anyway, Snyder makes those connections between the two throughout the book.
As I mentioned, I bought this book to learn more about Vermeer. I scored the added benefit of learning about van Leeuwenhoek. It's a fascinating read about that period. For the casual learner (like myself), it breaks up the intensity of reading an entire biographical book about an artist by cutting into biographical sequences about a scientist. For those reasons, I recommend.
My only quibble is that the author veers a bit into other subjects from time to time. It's for a purpose. But once Snyder veers, she covers the material fully before she returns to her original point. The reader ends up benefitting from some fulsome vignettes of other scenes or characters throughout the book. But, at times, I felt like the digressions overwhelmed the story.
During the era of the Dutch Golden Age, the Netherlands expanded its power through colonialism and trade. But as their independence reign, the Dutch also developed notable discoveries in the arts & sciences. In which, two individuals, both born days apart, Antonie van Leeuwenhoek & Johannes Vermeer would have the greatest contributions to their fields as a scientist and as an artist. Laura Snyder records a timeline of their discoveries and works and how they influenced our modern perceptions of how we are to see the world.
I have read multiple science books and a handful of art books before, but never one where both art & science are interconnected. Obviously, I read this for Vermeer, but I did know a bit about Leeuwenhoek's microscopes before this. While it has been suggested that the two men may have known each other, it was almost pure speculation on what type of friendship they shared, with the exception that Antoine was executor of Vermeer's estate after the former's death. Snyder brings up notable overlooked records that showed both men were born in the same year, lived within reasonable distance from each other, had friends & families whom were connected to the growing art market, and most importantly; both had methods of using lenses in their works. Vermeer may have used a camera obscura to assist with his artworks while Leeuwenhoek developed his own special lens that allowed him to see a world that is beyond the ability of the naked eye. Snyder also debunks some perceptions held on both men, explaining that their greatest achievements are not to be undermined by supposed "facts". It's a long read for sure, but full of well-research details that you not only learn about Vermeer & Leeuwenhoek, but also a grasp about what 17th century Dutch society was like. Indeed, we ought to thank these two fellows in showing us how, as described in the book; "to learn to see". Eye of the Beholder is an excellent, thoroughly detailed book that explains the connections of a scientist and an artist in how they shaped the world of seeing.
Learning how to see; daring to see; seeing in a new way. This is the book's overarching theme: 2 men of Delft, baptized within a week of each other, neighbors in Market Square, and buried near each other in the Nieuwe Kirk, who epitomized the transformation of art and science in 17thc. Dutch Republic. Joannes Vermeer and Antoni van Leeuwenhoek used the developing technology of the era to supplement natural organs of sight with "artificial eyes": lenses, a mirror, and a camera obscura for Vermeer and a series of microscopes for Leeuwenhoek. Both sought to investigate nature in their respective pursuits, to look deeper, to look inside nature. In contrast to the thinking of Aristotelian Rene Descartes, and informed by the writing of natural philosopher Francis Bacon, the men shared a common investigatory beginning: textiles. Both were involved in this burgeoning trade with an interest in the weave of cloth for its study via microscope or capturing its texture in painting. They lived among men and women of the St. Luke's Guild and the Royal Society of London, amid experiments in medicine and explorations of the night sky. Yet the product of both Vermeer's and Leeuwenhoek's study was a repetitive one of interiors: the quiet rooms of a woman reading a letter or a milkmaid at work and the study of mites on a rind of Gouda or inside the eyes of a cow. In each instance, these men of art and science were part of the transformation of knowledge from the settled to the experimental. Nowhere is this most evident as in Vermeer's painting of The Astronomer whose hand upon a globe is bathed in light while a painting of Moses is in the background. Vermeer's signature style of light and shadow allegorically embraces the new world of science. This is a beautifully written yet technically dense book. It is historically compelling and meticulously researched and requires careful, slow reading (at least for me) but it is quite well worth the effort.
Did you know that the Dutch did not only master building windmills, being liberal, and making Frikandelbroodjes? In the 17th century, they also perfected art and science to - literally - change the way we see the world. This book recounts the steps of Vermeer, who painted the wonders of everyday, seemingly meaningless activities, and van Leeuwenhoek, who crafted microscopes that could let him see into previously unseen microcosms. It is remarkable that both Dutchmen not only lived at the same time but actually worked and dwelled in houses across the Delft market square. In this book, Snyder provides a thoroughly researched historical account of their intertwined lives. Although there are no direct sources that they were acquainted with each other, the world was even smaller back then. Snyder highlights nicely how technological and philosophical developments sparked the curiosity in these two men, to use tools (like the camera obscure) to see the world in a different light. Leave our native human point of view and tempt nature to reveal its secrets by pushing physics and an open, unbiased mind. This book has taught me that art and science can be two sides of the same coin. Both the painting and the microscope allow us to see more than our eyes permit. And while one is pushing us to appreciate everyday wonders that we are quick to overlook, the other is showing us new things beyond our wildest imaginations. Remarkably, art and science fit both of these descriptions.
In summary, I appreciate this book for its historical accuracy, attention to detail, and how it shows both the unique Dutch sentiments as well as the general intertwined features of the arts and sciences. However, I did miss some philosophical considerations on what it >really< means to see the world and some wild speculations on what else might be out there for us to discover. But I guess this is enough content for another book. Let's hope someone will write it - or has written it already.
For some reason, I thought this was art-related historical fiction; however, it is a nonfiction look at art, mapmaking, optics, and learning to see through the new devices: telescopes, microscopes and camera obscuras. I found it fascinating, none the less. It is well researched and well documented. Even the footnotes were interesting. Snyder does a great job showing the day to day life of the seventeen century Dutch while focusing on cartographers, artists such as Rembrandt and Vermeer, and scientists such as Galileo and Newton. It covers broad ground as the ramifications of optics spreads from country to country: the Netherlands, England, Italy, France, and beyond.
Snyder goes into detail regarding how lenses were made back then, how the use of the camera obscura (a box with a tiny aperture to let in light which allowed painters and cartographers to see an image and trace it). Lenses back then were fraught with problems: chromatic and spherical aberrations caused by the lenses, distortions from the glass itself, and foreign bodies or bubbles within the glass from the manufacturing process. One had to learn to “see” what was real under the lens. Once learned, that knowledge informed painters in terms of perspective and coloring, scientists in terms of realizing they were seeing something unseen before. Through the use of mirrors, lenses, and the camera obscura, painters could achieve remarkable authenticity in the details of their works.
This book ties in nicely with a book I read back in, The Company Daughters by Samantha Rajaram which conveys Dutch life in 1620 as two young women sign on to become wives of men settling in the Far East with the Dutch East India company. It also is good to read alongside The Miniaturist and Girl with a Pearl Earring.