Artistic Depictions of Baroque Cabinets of Curiosity

When does a personal collection become meaningful to the world as a whole? The act of collecting may seem dull or mundane, but collections of worldly items in the Early Modern period were anything but boring. These collections, called “cabinets of curiosities”, combined natural specimens, books, works of art, and ancient artifacts in one place. These cabinets were displayed as physical sites to explore, but collectors also published catalogs featuring detailed descriptions and images of their inventories. The catalogs often featured a frontispiece depicting the cabinets’ physical manifestation. Collectors also commissioned artists to represent their cabinets of curiosity in other mediums, such as oil or watercolor paintings. The paintings, drawings, and prints establish cabinets of curiosity as “the theater of the world” where natural wonders, works of art, and ancient artifacts could be compiled. These cabinets and their artistic representations served as ways to collect and spread knowledge globally, but they also established renown and status for the collectors.

The purposes for the individual collections could be as varied as the items held within, but a few motivations seemed to dominate. First, collecting could “provide a form of intelligibility to the world” (Davenne, 83). These collections combined objects from a variety of locales and across temporal space but presented them alongside one another in conversation to provide some sense of order to the world. As Belgian scholar Samuel Quiccheberg stated in the 1560s, the ideal museum was “[a] theatre of the broadest scope, containing authentic materials and precise reproductions of the whole of the universe” (quoted in Mauriès, 23). The cabinets would present the specimens or works of art in an organized manner, which often took the form of jars, glass cases, and compartmentalized shelves or drawers.

The cabinets and their catalogs additionally served to spread the discovered knowledge to the public, and they could become public goods rather than remain private endeavors. By openly presenting their collections, the cabinet compilers could “put themselves at the service of humanity by working to pass knowledge to others” (Davenne, 83). The sharing of cabinets of curiosities may have had an altruistic sentiment toward spreading knowledge to the masses, but they also served to increase the renown of the collectors. For example, cabinets of curiosity curated by royals were used as diplomatic tools, and the bourgeois would use the collections as a means of showing off their knowledge of great works (Davenne, 112). Therefore, the cabinets served as a stage for one’s intelligence and worldliness. As Paula Findlen suggests, “… collecting was a way of aestheticizing the self. The museum provided the materials out of which to construct an identity and the means to publicize it. Self-knowledge, in other words, was social knowledge” (Possessing Nature, 294). Thus, the collections could not be separated from the social aspect of knowledge production. These cabinets served as personal expressions of their curator’s identity, which could then be shared with the public. The socialized aspect of the cabinets of curiosity is further emphasized when considering their use as places “for recreation and pleasure as well as instruction, because of the unusual and wonderful objects on display” (Impey and MacGregor, 9). These collections could be viewed for a multiplicity of reasons, but they are rarely engaged in an isolated manner. Whether they are engaging in scholarly discussion, diplomatic relations, or recreational viewing, the viewers could connect with a larger community.

The cabinets’ ability to foster communication was not limited to the boundaries of the physical space the collections occupied. Through the published catalogs, collectors could spread these conversations to every corner of the globe. With the invention of the printing press and the oceanic routes around the world in the Early Modern period, collectors could sell catalogs with images of the items in their cabinets around the globe inexpensively (Porras, 57). Engravings could create “hundreds, if not thousands, of nearly identical copies of the same image” on paper that was modest in size, which made them easy to transport (Dackerman, “Introduction: Prints as Instruments”). These prints were designed to appeal to mass markets rather than being designed for specific patrons, so the published collections were likely marketed towards the generalized public instead of just the elite (Parshall, 19-20). The catalogs, which were easy to transport and inexpensive to acquire, were a primary mode in which the cabinets of curiosity could be promoted to wider audiences.

Rather than limiting the understanding of the world to those within close proximity, the catalogs spread this knowledge globally. The cabinets’ relationship to globalization was multilateral. The objects within the collection were accumulated from places around the world, then placed alongside one another in the catalogs and shared with the rest of the world.  The cabinets and their printed catalogs engaged with “processes of compression when they brought into visual or physical proximity things that did not naturally appear together in the world” (Findlen, Early Modern Things, 229). Rather than isolated pockets, the cabinets of curiosity served as a means to situate the varying localities within a singular, cohesive conversation.

Because the printed catalogs served as a means for advertising the physical cabinets, they often contained a frontispiece with an artistic rendition of the space. Findlen suggests that the prints “…sometimes idealized cabinets, and their makers may have had independent agendas of their own” (Early Modern Things, 237). However, these artistic depictions are critical resources for understanding how these cabinets were organized in the Early Modern era. Baroque cabinets of curiosity often drew upon similar design elements, such as symmetry and aesthetic order (Impey and Macgregor, 246). But, each contained different visual arrangements to bring “attention to different material characteristics, meanings, and uses of things” (Findlen, Early Modern Things, 229). As discussed before, the cabinets could be used to express the identity of the collector, so their cabinets and catalogs highlighted these individual personalities and interests. While Patrick Mauriès states the depictions of the cabinets are “only clumsy approximations of the idiosyncrasies of the flesh, or of quirks of eccentricities of expression now lost for ever”, they provide enough evidence to grasp the general organization and some of the items within these collections (7). 

The frontispiece for Dell’historia naturale, published in 1599, is the earliest known illustration of a cabinet of curiosities (Fig. 1). The image features the cabinet belonging to Ferrante Imperato of Naples, an apothecary, and his collection emphasized natural wonders and specimens. For example, the entire ceiling was covered with animals, with a stuffed crocodile as the centerpiece. Constraints of space limited which objects could be included within the cabinets lining the walls. Therefore, collectors had to account for spatial constraints when designing their museums. However, when they created the print catalogs, the spatial limitations disappeared, and the different items could be printed on pages next to each other to create different comparisons. Therefore, the physical and printed cabinets could create different connections and conversations based on their varied organization. The frontispiece also highlights the social nature of the cabinets by including a group of viewers engaging with each other in addition to the objects on display.

The next cabinet belonged to Francesco Calzolari and was illustrated in the frontispiece of his Museum Calceolarium in 1622 (Fig. 2). Calzolari primarily collected naturalia, but he also included some man-made items. The cabinet appeared to follow a similar floor plan as Imperato’s, with an empty central space and shelves lining the edges of the room. The engraving shows the opened drawers that were filled with even more items for visitors to discover. Mauriès notes that “…particularly choice specimens are displayed in a sort of altar at the end of the room” (14). Therefore, Calzolari appeared to create a hierarchy within his cabinet with the more exceptional items being highlighted in a separated space framed by the grandiosity of Greco-Roman architecture.

The last printed depiction of a cabinet of curiosity to be discussed within this essay is that of Olaus Worm, a professor from the University of Copenhagen who taught Greek and Latin (Findlen, Early Modern Things, 228). The engraving illustrating his cabinet was published in his Museum Wormianum in 1655 (Fig. 3). Worm’s cabinet was centered around naturalia as opposed to the antiquities that would be expected of a Classics professor. Perhaps, his collection was meant to represent a lesser known side of himself or explore a new set of interests.

With these three engravings, a pattern emerges of aesthetic and organizational choices not present in the paintings and drawings to be discussed later. Each of these frontispieces features stuffed animals hanging on the ceiling, checkered floors, and a room with an empty center and shelved cabinets lining the walls. For such unique collections, the spaces seem remarkably similar. Perhaps the organization of these spaces emerged as the optimal way to maximize the amount of objects on display while not totally sacrificing a sense of order. However, there is the possibility that perhaps the medium of engraving required some standardization in the portrayals. For instance, the checkerboard floors could have been used to give the sense of depth to the space and ground the cabinets within the space of a room rather than floating on a blank page.

However, the painted portrayals seem to forgo some of these conventions of depiction. None of the following representations feature checkered floors, which suggests that this could be a design aspect unique to engraved depictions of cabinets of curiosities. Additionally, the painted representations do not feature any animals on the ceiling, but this may be due to the fact that the painted cabinets are more concerned with works of art and antiquities instead of naturalia. Lastly, the paintings depict the collection as taking up space throughout the room rather than being relegated to the perimeter. Whether this difference may be attributed to standard practices of organization for cabinets centered around art and antiquities versus naturalia is unclear. The differences could be attributed to the makeup of the collection or the differences in the medium chosen for representation.

The first painting to discuss is The Sense of Sight by Jan Brueghel the Elder and Peter Paul Rubens (Fig. 4). This painting is part of a series about the five senses commissioned by governors in the Netherlands (Mauriès, 9). While not necessarily meant to depict a literal cabinet of curiosity, the allegorical scenes include many of the items owned by the individuals that commissioned the work (Mauriès, 9). While the room appears to feature some items sitting on orderly shelves along the edges of the room, many of the collected items sit in disarray in the center. A similar organizational method can be seen in View of the Kunstkammer of Count Johann Septimius Jörger in Nuremberg (Fig. 5). There are some methodically placed elements, such as the items in the cabinet sitting on the table in the foreground and the paintings lining the wall. However, the right side of the work features a disorderly stack of paintings leaning against the wall.

The last painting, depicting the cabinet of the Dimpfel family of Regensburg, appears to follow the organization of the engraved cabinets, with most of the collection lining the perimeter (Fig. 6). However, there is also the addition of a central table that features additional artifacts. The central table may allude to some of the activities that possibly took place in this room. Mauriès suggests the possibility that Johann Paulus Dimpfel used the room as a study and library based on the inkwell and letters on the table (34). In comparison to the other paintings, the Dimpfel cabinet appears the most organized, however, it still clashes with the somewhat standardized portrayal of cabinets of curiosity in the printed engravings. It remains unclear whether or not these differences between the mediums are indicative of differences within the actual cabinets themselves or the customs of the medium.

Early Modern Cabinets of Curiosity represented the beginnings of the museum as we know it today. Each of the collections demonstrated the desire to bring the world together in one organized and understandable display. With the invention of the printing press and the establishment of trade routes and colonization, globalization increased exponentially, which allowed individuals to amass these collections of goods from around the world and share them with others. While Baroque collectors had to share their cabinets through printed books or in-person visitations, modern museums can spread their collections through the internet. The internet has greatly increased the ability to share knowledge and images within a few seconds, and the printed catalogs of the Early Modern period could be viewed as the predecessor to the online databases or social media of the present day.

Digital Tool

I chose to create a modern cabinet of curiosity using Instagram. I tried to think about what format would collectors use to share their cabinets of curiosity in the present day, and I felt that they would likely turn to social media. Early Modern printmaking was essentially the predecessor to social media with its impact on global connectedness, so I figured that creating my own catalog using social media would be similar to Early Modern catalogs.

The biggest challenge that I faced when creating my page was how to get other people interested in contributing. Many people don’t know what a cabinet of curiosity is without me
having to explain it to them. So I needed to find a way to explain the purpose of the page in a succinct manner. I decided to create a short bio explaining the basic gist of the project, and I also made a poster calling for submissions. When I advertised it on my personal Instagram page, I got zero engagement. I got my roommates to add their objects to the page, but I didn’t get any other submissions until I advertised it again during my presentation in class. I think I could advertise it through word of mouth or posters hanging around campus. Also, sending emails to different art-
and history-related clubs.

Another unexpected challenge that I faced was that my account got temporarily suspended by Instagram for “violating community guidelines”, so I had to go through the trouble of disputing the temporary ban. I got a message saying that the account had been banned mistakenly, but it demonstrated that there is some uncertainty with using the platform. While I was able to recover the account, it could have been totally deleted if Instagram had decided to. I am not entirely sure what guidelines Instagram thought I violated, but I was very happy to see that it was a mistake.

Link to the Emory Dorm Room of Curiosity: https://www.instagram.com/emorydormofcuriosity/

Bibliography

Dackerman, Susan. “Introduction: Prints as Instruments.” In Prints and the Pursuit of Knowledge in Early Modern Europe, edited by Susan Dackerman. Cambridge: Harvard Art Museums, 2011. https://aaeportal-com.proxy.library.emory.edu/?id=-16360.

Davenne, Christine. Cabinets of Wonder : a Passion for Collecting. New York: Abrams, 2012.

Findlen, Paula. Early Modern Things: Objects and Their Histories, 1500-1800. New York: Routledge, 2021. https://doi.org/10.4324/9781351055741.

Findlen, Paula. Possessing Nature : Museums, Collecting, and Scientific Culture in Early Modern Italy. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1996.

Impey, Oliver, and Arthur MacGregor. The Origins of Museums : the Cabinet of Curiosities in Sixteenth- and Seventeenth-Century Europe. Oxford: Clarendon, 1985.

Mauriès, Patrick. Cabinets of Curiosities. New York: Thames & Hudson, 2002.

Parshall, Peter. “Prints as Objects of Consumption in Early Modern Europe.” Journal of Medieval and Early Modern Studies 28, no. 1 (Winter, 1998): 19-36. https://login.proxy.library.emory.edu/login?url=https://www.proquest.com/scholarly-journals/prints-as-objects-consumption-early-modern-europe/docview/216757937/se-2.

Porras, Stephanie. “Going Viral? Maerten de Vos’s ‘St. Michael the Archangel.’” Nederlands Kunsthistorisch Jaarboek (NKJ) / Netherlands Yearbook for History of Art 66 (2016): 54–79. http://www.jstor.org/stable/44657325.