PLEASE NOTE: THIS ANNOTATION IS STILL IN PROGRESS
An exploration of molding delicate things:
BnF Ms. Fr. 640, folio 142v
French Transcription
<title id=”p142v_a1”>Mouler sauterelles et choses<lb/>
trop tanvres</title>
<ab id=”p142v_b1”>Si tu as à mouler un papier escript qui soict trop tanvre,<lb/>
apres que tu as faict le premier gect & qu’il ha faict prise,<lb/>
donne un peu d’espesseur au revers de ton papier avecq du<lb/>
beurre fondu, qui est le plus propre moyen qui soict, & pour<lb/>
fortifier les aisles ou d’un papillon ou d’une sauterelle,<lb/>
ou quelque delicate partye d’animal à quoy tu as besoing<lb/>
de donner espesseur. Mays advise d’apliquer ce beurre fondu<lb/>
dessoubs l’aisle ou en tel lieu qu’il ne soict poinct voeu.<lb/>
Pour donner espesseur à une pensée ou aultres fleurs,<lb/>
le boeurre n’est pas bon, ains l’huile de froment, qui est bien<lb/>
tost sec & tient ferme. La cire n’y seroit pas propre<lb/>
car elle est trop chaulde, estant fondue, & faict retirer<lb/>
la chose à quoy elle est apliquée. Mays le boeurre<lb/>
est amiable et maniant.</ab>
<note id=”p142v_c1a”>Si tu escripts<lb/>
sur papier ou carton<lb/>
commun, & que ta<lb/>
l{ett}re soict à gomme,<lb/>
l’humidite de la<lb/>
plaste d’ardille ou<lb/>
le sable destrempé<lb/>
pour noyau humectero{n}t<lb/>
ta l{ett}re [et] la defferont.<lb/>
Escripts doncq de<lb/>
cinabre destrempé<lb/>
à huile sur du<lb/>
papier huilé &<lb/>
imprimé.</note>
English Translation
<title id=”p142v_a1″>Molding grasshoppers and other things too thin</title>
<ab id=”p142v_b1″>If you have a piece of written paper to mold, which is very thin, after you have made a first casting and it has taken, add a little thickness to the back of your paper with some melted butter, which is the most appropriate means there is, and [this method applies as well] for strengthening the wings of either a butterfly or grasshopper, or any delicate part of an animal for which you need to add some thickness. Be advised [however] to apply this melted butter underneath the wing or whichever place, so that it is not seen. To give thickness to a pansy or other flowers, butter is not good, thus [one uses] wheat oil, which dries quickly and holds firm. Wax would not be appropriate [in this case] because it is too hot, having been melted, and it makes the thing to which it is applied draw in. But butter is good [to work with] and easy to handle.</ab>
<ab id=”p142v_c1a”>If you write on paper or on cardboard, and your piece of writing has been made with gum, the wetness of the clay pack or of the soaked sand for the noyau will moisten it [and] ruin it. Thus, write with cinnabar mixed with oil, on oiled and printed paper.</ab>
Introduction
The recipe “Molding grasshoppers and other things too thin” on fol. 142v is one of the many processes of molding and casting described in the manuscript. In BnF Ms. Fr. 640, the author-practitioner gives numerous detailed accounts of processes that range from large, heavy weapons (e.g., artillery and arquebuses) to small, delicate objects like flowers and insects, and even paper. Throughout the manuscript the scale of such objects and the challenge of casting them preoccupies the author-practitioner. Moreover, the delicate and ephemeral things (grasshoppers, butterflies, flowers) that he tries on fol. 142v not only are associated with transience and ephemerality; in the case of butterflies, they also go through processes of metamorphosis. Perhaps this heightened the author’s interest in these castings. As in his attempts to fix delicate roses into a metallic form, on fol. 142v he is also preoccupied with processes of transformation, not only from transience to fixed and durable form, but also with the combinations of sands and binders that will transform ordinary workshop materials into carriers of the most delicate impressions.
In order to accomplish such transformative processes, the author-practitioner found it necessary to coordinate and combine materials at different stages of the molding and casting process, a form of knowledge acquired through hands-on trial and error. Why? Because objects of different sizes and densities need a variety of techniques and molding materials (namely different kinds of sand, which we might see as the matrix), and different metals for casting. Aside from scale, the author-practitioner also makes a distinction between things that are rather “thick” and “fat” (or “round”), and things that are “thin” and “delicate” (or “fine”), forms that must be molded and cast in specific and appropriate sands and metals. Such recipes in the manuscript often focus on either medal-making or life-casting, and they constitute an important part of the entire manuscript.1 Indeed, according to Smith and Beentjes, “both involve extensive knowledge of, and experimentation with, mold materials and metal alloys, and both aim for a very fine surface impression that demonstrates the maker’s expertise and virtuosity.”2
Our annotation focuses on our reconstruction of casting “things too thin” from fol. 142v; specifically, paper, pansies, and butterflies. The question we address through our reconstruction of these three things considers the role of materials with which the author-practitioner experiments in order to add thickness to their delicate elements, and thus improve their “castability.” In fol. 142v, the author-practitioner discusses different ways that some delicate parts of animals and plants (i.e., wings of a grasshopper or butterfly, and pansy petals) could be treated prior to casting from life. Throughout the manuscript, three materials are mentioned frequently that serve to thicken thin things: butter, oil, and wax. Interestingly, although the author-practitioner clearly states that wax is not appropriate for thickening thin things, he contradicts himself on several occasions about the efficacy of butter and oil. This inconsistency within the manuscript caught our attention, and exploration of its presence and significance informs our own experimental process in our reconstruction of casting the thin things from fol. 142v. Accordingly, this annotation investigates ambiguities in the use and description of thickening agents. We explore different characteristics of various materials in our interpretation and reconstruction of recipes from fol. 142v for molding paper, pansies, and a butterfly. Our focal point is the exploration of how the author-practitioner sought to re-animate the materials he used in casting thin things. Also, we highlight the limitation of the language he used in terms of our ability to understand the essence of the recipes set down in fol. 142v, particularly when it comes to the author-practitioner’s description of his own intimacy with materials. ruin it. Thus write with cinnabar mixed with oil, on oiled and printed paper.”
In this excerpt from fol. 142v, the author-practitioner offers advice about how to create a piece of writing on paper that can withstand the wetness of the molding materials (packed clay or soaked sand), as well as how to add thickness to the written paper. Both of these points address the question of how to prepare the paper to be molded in order for it to withstand the potential damage that its encasement in the mold could cause. This particular recipe appears to be unusual amongst other such contemporary sources about life casting as those provided by Vannoccio Biringuccio, Cennino Cennini, Bernard Palissy, and Hugh Plat – none of whom address the techniques of casting paper. There are several technical questions that a reconstruction of this recipe from fol. 142v can address: THERE IS FAR TOO MUCH DETAIL IN THE FOLLOWING SECTION. SINCE YOUR FOCAL POINT IS CASTING, YOU CAN SHORTEN THIS ENTIRE SECTION ON HOW YOU MADE THE WRITING AND HOW THE PAPER SHOULD BE PRE-TREATED. MENTION THESE THINGS, BUT REFERENCE YOUR FIELD NOTES.
- Why should the piece of writing be made of cinnabar mixed with oil, and what kind of oil is the author-practitioner suggesting here?
- What kind of paper is used here, and how it should be pre-treated before molding?
- How should the written paper be molded and cast?
We began with writing on the paper. For this, we undertook the reconstruction of two attempted methods mentioned by the author: to write using gum, and to write using cinnabar mixed with oil. Interestingly, he rejects the method that uses gum. That said, it appears that gum is an important material in BnF Ms. Fr. 640. It is mentioned in many recipes throughout the manuscript, most of which are pigment related,3 and which enumerate various types of gum: gum arabic, sandarac gum, gum amoniacum, tragacanth gum. All of these forms of gum primarily function as water-soluble binding agents for pigment. Moreover, in a few recipes, gum was used as a binder for molding materials, and the term “gum water” or “gummed water” (gum arabic diluted with water) was used several times in recipes for pigments,4 which commonly involves soaking a powdered pigment in clear gum water.
According to internal references in the manuscript, we inferred that the water solubility of gum would make it an inadequate substance for the written material on the paper to be molded. However, on this subject, there is a contradictory recipe in fol. 131r, “Moulding letter paper.” This particular recipe calls for writing that uses “ink bien gommé” (well-gummed ink),5 and it suggests that writing should be made of well-gummed ink or any other pigment with body, and which does not dissolve in brandy. Thus, the recipe on fol. 131r contradicts the one on fol. 142v where the author-practitioner prefers cinnabar mixed with oil over gum. It could be a self-correction since this recipe on fol. 142v follows that of fol. 131r, and the remark about gum is a marginal note.
Using cinnabar mixed with oil as an alternative for the writing material might be also related to techniques of making colors and varnish with pigments and liquids. Indeed, in the very beginning of the manuscript, the author introduces several oil-based substances made by heating and mixing a kind of plant oil, a kind of natural resin, with a powdered pigment together,6 in which the viscosity of the varnish can be balanced by adjusting the proportion of oil and resin. Throughout the manuscript, the author-practitioner lists such diverse oils as plant oil, turpentine oil, walnut oil, linseed oil, mastic oil, and aspic oil, which provide clues about what kind of oil he could be referring to in the recipe on fol. 142v.
Perhaps the most confusing part of the recipe in fol. 142v is the phrase, “oiled and printed paper.”7 Oiling paper is a technique that gives the paper a waterproof coating, and makes it more transparent and durable. That is why oiled paper was used to cover the window openings.footnote? The annotation for fol. 131r, “Moulded Letter Paper,” makes suggestions about the specific kind of paper the author-practitioner is using here.8 In terms of how to mold the paper, both fol. 142v (“a first casting”) and fol. 133r (“cast both sides”) suggest a two-piece mold. However, both recipes provide no further instructions other than to place the written paper on a sheet of clay and to dampen it with spirits (the spirits work as the separator). Soaked sand is mentioned in various life casting recipes throughout the manuscript, and according to Randal Cotgrave’s contemporary dictionary, “noyau” also means a core mold.9 If we make an inference based on these two clues, it seems that the written paper should be molded in the same way as animals and plants are molded from life. The layer of melted butter should be added to the back of the paper after the first piece of mold has solidified.10
Our textual interpretation of the recipe regarding molding written paper provided us with relevant insights for our subsequent reconstruction:
- Pigment related recipes in the manuscript support the idea that cinnabar mixed with oil works better as the writing material here because it is waterproof.
- The oil to be mixed with cinnabar might be among the list of plant oils mentioned in the varnish recipes (namely, turpentine, walnut, linseed, mastic, and aspic).
- The oil coating is supposed to make the paper water-resistant and durable.
- The written paper should be cast in the same way as animals and herbages are cast from life.
The first question our hands-on reconstruction undertook to examine was the list of plant oils mentioned in the varnish recipes, in which one conforms well to cinnabar. The second question was whether the oiled paper can withstand the plaster molding process or not.
Part I: Reconstruction
“On moulding paper with writings on it”
Based on the “Molded Letter Paper’” annotation by Raymond Carlson and Jordan Katz, we made use of the same materials, i.e., paper, ink, and gum. Due to material constraints we modified the author-practitioner’s recommended combination of cinnabar and oil, and substituted cinnabar with Venice Red.11
Based on our experiment with oiled paper,12 we attempted to answer the question regarding which of the preceding recipes about the making of oil-based varnish could serve as a clue for the oil to be used in this specific recipe. Thus, we looked to varnish-making recipes in the manuscript that dealt with plant, turpentine, walnut, and aspic oils. We used three types of oil: wheat, linseed, and turpentine.
To mold our paper, we first made a sketch upon it of this Chinese character: 道 (Taoism) [Fig. 3 Sketching a Chinese character]. Then we tried the following four combinations of ink or color dyes with gum or oil:
- Ink [Fig. 4] and gum powder [Fig. 5]
- Venice Red [Fig. 6] and turpentine oil [Fig. 7]
- Venice Red and wheat oil [Fig. 8]
- Venice Red and linseed oil [Fig. 9]
Combination 1 (our ratio of 10 ml of ink and 2 teaspoons of gum powder) came out exactly the same as the experiment undertaken by Carlson and Katz in Fall 2014. The gum is viscous when mixed with the ink; however, the mixed liquid is sticky and uneven no matter how much we tried to stir it [Fig. 10 The mixture of ink and gum powder]. As a result (and just as Carlson and Katz found), it is hard to apply this unwieldy mixture to the paper. Our reconstruction confirmed the author’s assertion that the outcome of this combination is not desirable since the ink-gum mixture made our rendering of the Chinese character on the paper lumpy [Fig. 11 Writing on paper with mixture 1], which is not good for casting.
Combination 2 (our ratio of 2 teaspoons of Venice Red pigment and 10 ml of turpentine oil) worked better than combination 1. The pigment and the oil mingled with each other evenly [Fig. 12 The mixture of Venice red and turpentine oil]. When applied to the paper, this mixture dried quickly. However, when moved, some dried-out particles fell off the character [Fig. 13 The writing on paper with mixture 2]. Based on these observations, we determined that this combination was not sticky and viscous enough for the casting.
Compared to the preceding two trials, combination 3 (which used 2 teaspoons of Venice Red and 10 ml of wheat oil) proved to be the best one. The pigment dissolved in the wheat oil very well. Furthermore, this combination proved viscous enough to hold our Chinese character on to the paper and the pigment did not fall off of it when dried [Fig. 14 The mixture of Venice red and wheat oil]. Interestingly, when stirring the combined ingredients of Venice Red and wheat oil with the paintbrush, we could feel the resistance of this mixture against the brush, much more so than the other two above-mentioned combinations. Also, when this mixture was lifted with the paintbrush, it clung to the paintbrush for about ten seconds, a manifestation of its viscosity [Fig. 15 The writing of mixture 3]. Combination 4 (comprised of 2 teaspoons of Venice Red and 10 ml of linseed oil) came out as good as the mixture that comprised combination 3 [Fig. 16 The mixture of Venice Red and linseed oil], with almost the same viscosity.
Comparing the effects of the writing on paper apropos all four combinations above, we came to the conclusion that wheat oil and linseed oil is the best option in this context. Writing the Chinese character with combination 1 made it rise up on the paper, but its surface was too lumpy to for a good cast. Although combination 2 solved the problem of uneven surface, it went to another extreme in that the writing actually did not raise that much, and after it dried out some particles fell off. Compared to combinations 1 and 2, combinations 3 and 4 worked better. The character rose up evenly. The only disadvantage of the latter two combinations is that the character dried out much more slowly and the oil started to permeate to paper [Fig. 17 The permeation of the oil to paper].
At this point, from our reconstructions we were able to answer two questions. First, we showed that the oiled paper can withstand the wetness of the plaster quite well. Second, wheat oil and the linseed oil work better than turpentine oil when it comes to writing on paper for molding. When combined with the Venice Red pigment, both oils showed good consistency and capability in holding the particles of the Venice Red together. As a result, the character we wrote upon the paper using these two combinations rose up and created a convex surface on the paper, which is ideal for casting.
Although we were able to solve some puzzles posed in the manuscript, we were faced with new questions when we finally saw the cast of our reconstructions. According to the two-piece mold casting, we laid our paper painted with the Chinese character on a clay base and built up the sprue system (which would facilitate the metal flow when it is poured) [Fig. 18 The paper on a clay base with the sprue system], then we poured the plaster. Forty minutes later, we stripped out the clay wall and base, turn the mold upside down and were ready for the second cast [Fig. 19, the other side of the mold]. Before this second cast, we followed the author’s instructions for molding paper in fol. 142v and applied melted butter to the back of the paper so as to add to its thickness [Fig. 20 Applying melted butter to the back of the paper before second cast]. Then we baked the mold and poured the metal. When opening the mold, we finally saw the outcome of our casting [Fig. 21 the outcome of molding and casting paper], which was not a desirable cast since the metal failed to flow over the mold. This failure, however, is quite productive. It drove us to go back to the manuscript again and to find out the reason of the failure. How could it come out like this? Which crucial step did we miss? What kind of details led to this outcome? These questions will be revisited and discussed in our final reflection that concludes this annotation. Now let us turn to the second part of the recipe – molding pansies.
Part II: Interpretation
“On moulding pansies or other flowers”
“…To give thickness to a pansy or other flowers, butter is not good, thus [one uses] wheat oil, which dries quickly and holds firm. Wax would not be appropriate [in this case] because it is too hot, having been melted, and it makes the thing to which it is applied draw in. But butter is good [to work with] and easy to handle…”
The technique of casting pansies is closely related to the contemporary practice of making life casts of flowers and herbages. According to the annotation for molding roses by Carlson and Katz,13 there are important precedents for this in sixteenth-century Europe, and extant examples of this process can be traced back to the workshops of Bernard Palissy and Wenzel Jamnitzer. Indeed, Palissy mentions in Architecture, et Ordennance that he had cast “Scolopendrium, adiantum, maidenhair, polytrichum, polypody & other species of plants appropriate to this affair.”14 Life casting works by Palissy and the members of his atelier also included small plants like plantain, sage, rosemary, lavender, wheat, and oats.15 But he did not describe the process for molding these delicate objects in any surviving texts.16 The extant works of Jamnitzer, such as the bouquet of flowers in his tablepiece of 1549 (Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam) [Fig. 22 Jamnitzer Tablepiece] and the separately casted plants, [Fig. 23 Jamnitzer Plants] are of extraordinary delicacy and speak to his virtuoso craftsmanship, however Jamnitzer does not discuss his process for lifecasting in writing. Hugh Plat’s Jewell House of Art and Nature, another recipe compilation contemporary to Ms. Fr. 640, mentions techniques of molding herbs and flowers.17 However, neither Palissy nor Plat relate particular techniques of strengthening delicate parts of the plants. To date, our manuscript seems to be the only textual description of how to strengthen the fragile parts of plants before casting them.
In BnF Ms. Fr. 640, the author-practitioner mentions three kinds of thickening agents for pansies or other flowers, and discusses their different effects in comparison to one another. He explicitly excludes wax. This is likely because of the temperature in which wax liquefies; its melting point is 62 to 65 degrees Celsius, and the heat in its liquid state would cause the delicate objects to shrink. In support of our hypothesis, the author-practitioner states: “Wax would not be appropriate [in this case] because it is too hot, having been melted, and it makes the thing to which it is applied draw in.” He also makes it clear that he regards wheat oil as a proper choice because it “dries quickly and holds firm.” However, his attitude towards butter seems to be contradictory. In fol. 142v, he rejects butter as a proper material to give thickness to pansies or other flowers (“…To give thickness to a pansy or other flowers, butter is not good…”), yet later he asserts that “…butter is good [to work with] and easy to handle…”. These statements prompt our question about process: which works better to strengthen petals, butter or wheat oil, and why?
To solve this puzzle, we consulted several other relevant recipes in the manuscript.
A note in the recipe in fol. 110v entitled “Wheat oil” makes the following remark on the effect of wheat oil when applied to flowers: “If you want to mold something delicate, like a pansy, some, to give it a little thickness, more than what is natural, some rub it with butter. But it is best to oil it with wheat oil because it has no opacity and does not block the smaller features as much, and makes the flower firmer” (italics are our emphasis). This note indicates the author’s preference for wheat oil over butter because it is transparent and thus does not cover over many details of the flower. The recipe on fol. 129r also emphasizes the drying quality of wheat oil, resonating with the
one detailed in fol. 142v.18 That said, a later recipe on fol. 154v entitled “Strengthening flowers and delicate things” offers a contradictory statement suggesting that melted butter should be used to strengthen flowers and herbages instead of wheat oil.19
According to the author-practitioner, it seems that there are two primary advantages wheat oil enjoys over butter. Firstly, wheat oil dries faster and holds firm; secondly, it seems to preserve more details of the original pattern. But in neither recipe does he specify preference in favor of or against the effect of butter. Interestingly, the only recipe that favors butter over wheat oil comes last in the manuscript. Could this be another self-correction? With these questions in mind, we began our reconstruction experiment.
Part II: Reconstruction
“On moulding pansies or other flowers”
For this experiment, we used four pansies from the university campus flower beds to test how butter and wheat oil work. We split them into two groups:
Group A: two white pansies to experiment with butter.
Group B: two purple pansies to experiment with wheat oil.
We observed that it was difficult to only cover the back of the petals, because once butter or wheat oil was applied to the back of one petal, the front side of another petal behind it would immediately stick to it. It turned out that both butter and wheat oil soaked through on both sides of the petals. In Group B, the petals of the purple pansies got heavier after completely absorbing the oil and they could not stand on their own any more. The petals also crumpled. The wheat oil, which was supposed to “dry quickly and hold firm,” had an opposite effect [Fig. 18 Group B after the wheat oil was applied]. In Group A, the petals of the white pansies stiffened right after being covered with a fine layer of butter [Fig. 19 Group A right after the melted butter was applied], but this only lasted for 20 minutes, and, just as with the purple pansies, the petals on the white variety also drooped. [Fig. 26 Group B 20 minutes after the melted butter was applied]. One possible reason is that the butter added weight to the petals which they could not withstand; the other reason might be that the pansies just got dehydrated and withered on their own.
Reflecting on our experiment, we concluded that our failure could be partly attributed to the characteristics of this type of artificially bred pansies, which have rather big and floppy petals as opposed to the petals of wild pansies. Therefore, for our second experiment we decided to use a different species of pansies with smaller and thicker petals obtained from a local florist. We cut four flowers from this plant to experiment with. They were also split into two groups:
Group A: Two pansies to experiment with butter.
Group B: Two pansies to experiment with wheat oil.
This time we heated the wheat oil a little bit to make it thinner, and applied it to Group B when it had cooled to 27 degree Celsius. Unfortunately, it failed again, and by the time we finished building the infrastructure, they had completely shrunk and curled up [Fig. 27 Dead wheat-oiled pansy]. We decided to give up experimenting with wheat oil and try melted beeswax on the other pansy in Group B. This also proved problematic, as the beeswax solidified quickly and we had to keep reheating it. It did not cause any untoward effect on the pansies, but it added a rather thick layer underneath the petals which would cost some details when casting in metal [Fig. 28 Pansy with a wax coating underneath the petals].
As for Group A, butter worked well at first, and we could see clearly that the petals with a layer of butter exhibited a rather stiff characteristic. But after all the infrastructure was built and a clay wall was rolled out and wrapped around the base, the buttered pansies died as well [Fig. 29 Dead buttered pansy (the one at the bottom)]. At this point, we came to realize that speed was of the essence for a successful casting, which was not referenced in the recipe but discovered through our own process of reconstructing the experiment.
After our second failure, we decided not to build the vents connecting the petals with the base to buy more time. Based on our experience, the metal would pour with only three vents attached to the stem. In this way, we were able to apply butter and wheat oil to the petals right before pouring the plaster. Judging from the final result, only the pansy with a wax coating worked out [Fig. 30 Waxed pansy casted in tin and lead] while the buttered pansy and the oiled pansy shrank greatly and was pulled out of their original shape [Fig. 31 Buttered and oiled pansies cast in tin and lead]. It could be that butter and wheat oil failed to make them strong enough to withstand the plaster, or the metal failed to fill the entire corolla without the vents.
Our reconstruction of casting pansies showed that both wheat oil and butter, which the author-practitioner recommended or discussed in different places in the manuscript, proved unsuccessful. In contrast, wax, which the author-practitioner rejected, turned out to be a good material to thicken the pansy. However, although wax worked well as a thickening agent, it failed to capture the details of the petals, just as the author-practitioner mentioned. That might be the reason he rejected wax, since the primary goal of molding thin things should be the precise replication of the fine details of the molding object. In this sense, wax is not a good option.
Our second unsuccessful reconstruction raised questions about the authenticity of reconstruction materials to achieve good results. According to the author-practitioner, wheat oil should dry fast when applied to the flower. In our case, however, the wheat oil had not yet dried when we poured the plaster.
Part III: Interpretation
“Molding a butterfly”
“…and [this method applies as well] for strengthening the wings of either a butterfly or grasshopper, or any delicate part of an animal for which you need to add some thickness”.
Molding a butterfly appears to have been interesting to the author-practitioner of Ms. Fr. 640 because, like several other recipes in his manuscript for delicate things, it poses a material and structural challenge. The range of creatures he mentions for casting all possess diverse “surfaces,” like those of lizards, snakes, crustaceans (such as crabs and crayfish), turtles, birds, bats, rats, and such insects as beetles, spiders, flies and butterflies – he even provides a recipe for casting spider webs. Moreover, as Pamela Smith has suggested, many of these creatures “inhabited more than one elemental zone within the early modern view of the cosmos, such as lizards, snakes, toads, the crabs, which lived both on land and in water, as well as insects and birds, which inhabited both air and land. In addition, many of the animals preferred for life casting were regarded as spontaneously generated from putrefying matter.”20 Butterflies are insects that undergo metamorphosis and they are symbolic of impermanence; as such, they fit well into this list of interesting subjects for molding and casting “things too thin.”
Consistent with the theme of the whole recipe about molding thin things, in fol. 142v, the author-practitioner focuses on how to mold the delicate parts of “an animal.” As molding insects such as the butterfly and grasshoppers get only brief mention, we can only infer that the same method to thicken the petals of flowers is applied to the delicate parts of such creatures. Given the brevity of the above excerpt, we consulted other related recipes in the manuscript to inform our reconstruction of how to mold a butterfly. One of the problems we discerned in thinking about how to mold a butterfly is how to handle the hairy part of its body and its fragile antennas. This problem is related to our butter and oil discussion in molding pansies. In addition to the function of thickening the delicate parts, butter and wheat oil also help flatten the hairy parts of the animal. In the manuscript, the author-practitioner talks about this question several times but again, his conclusions seem to be ambiguous. For example, on fol. 110v he mentions butterflies when talking about wheat oil. Just as with molding pansies, he appears to believe that heated wheat oil is a good material to thicken the delicate part.21 Also, fol. 124r deals with the problem about how to mold hairy animals whose hairs rise up and become entangled. Here again, he states that wheat oil, which dries very fast, is the best material to keep the hair laid down. Similarly, on both fol. 129v,22 and fol. 130r,23 he mentions again the use of wheat oil to lay hairs down flat and make them firmer. However, in a later recipe on fol. 152r,24 the author-practitioner comes to a different conclusion. Here, he claims that “it is much better to rub hairy animals with butter than with wheat oil, because butter is much better and much more useful.”
If the manuscript is the chronological representation of the author-practitioner’s hands-on work, the sequencing of these recipes might constitute self-correction. Indeed, the following recipe on fol. 154v makes the situation more complex.25 In this recipe, he comes to the conclusion that melted butter works better for plants such as flowers and herbages, while wheat oil serves better for flies and other small animals. As with his discussion about pansies, his advice about the advantage of butter is vague. Butter is just stated as being much better and much useful without any explicit reasons, as opposed to his observation about wheat oil, which he states dries very fast and firmly holds the delicate part. Why do these inconsistencies exist? It seems that every time the author-practitioner mentions the two materials butter and wheat oil, he arrives at contradictory conclusions. Our question then becomes, what can we learn from these self-contradictions?
In molding a butterfly, we questioned whether it should be done in a one-piece or two-piece mold, as there is no direct instruction about how to mold a butterfly in the whole manuscript. Thus, we had to make inference according to other similar recipes in BnF Ms. Fr.640. References about molding animals in the manuscript generally use a two-piece mold, which the author-practitioner specifies for casting the lizard, crayfish, crab, beetles, spiders and fly. However, what distinguishes a butterfly from these other small animals is its extreme flatness. Unlike the three-dimensional body of the fly or beetle, the butterfly’s morphology is related to paper; indeed, the recipe for molding paper on fol. 142v describes a flat surface with embossed letters, much like the wings and veins of a butterfly. Moreover, the recipe for molding paper suggests using a two-piece mold, and this reference informed our decision in how to mold the butterfly. However, we also considered a one-piece mold as a candidate, since the delicacy of butterfly wings is almost the same as flower petals, which utilizes this kind of mold.
Deciphering this part of the recipe left us with two questions. How will wheat oil and butter function in molding a butterfly? And what do these two materials say about the interaction with materials which are hard to represent in metal? Also, would the one-piece mold or the two-piece mold be better for molding a delicate butterfly?
Part III: Reconstruction “Molding a butterfly”
In casting the butterfly, we first tried out a two-piece mold. After applying wheat oil to the wings and body of the butterfly, we laid it out on a piece of clay. We tried to press the butterfly against the clay to affix it to the clay wall. Then we used four pins to pierce the edge of its wings so as to fix them onto the clay. However, after our application of the wheat oil to the butterfly, its wings seemed unable to resist the wetness of the oil and it became transparent and even more delicate. Also, the wheat oil failed to hold on to the clay, so that it was hard for the butterfly to rest seamlessly on the clay. At the same time, the wings were too delicate to withhold the pins. As a result, the wings broke.
After this first failure, we reconsidered the two-piece mold as a viable method for this particular kind of life casting. We also thought more deeply about the butterfly itself, as we used a desiccated specimen from the gift store of the American Museum of Natural History [Fig. 32 Butterfly specimen purchased from the American Museum of Natural History]. These factors urged us to think about the authenticity of the butterfly, and how the state of the butterfly would potentially influence the cast. Our consideration about its condition and how it might impact its replication was motivated by references in the manuscript where the author-practitioner talked about how to catch, keep, and kill animals which are used for molding and casting. Significantly, he provides information about how and when to kill animals according to different types. For example, in fol. 110r, he says to kill a snake “only a quarter of an hour before you want to cast it,” while in fol. 143r, when it comes to turtles, he suggests that “you must not mold them too soon after they die because they are still stiff. But on the day after, you will be able to manipulate them and bend their legs as you wish.” In fol. 156r, “Molding a fly,” he recommends to take them also and use them as quickly as you can after they have died, because if you leave them to dry out, their legs will break when you want to stretch them.” Essentially, all the “animals” that the author-practitioners used in his molding and casting appear to be freshly caught. Furthermore, it seems that the timing of killing is of crucial significance to a successful casting. The underlying principle is make sure that the dead animals are not stiff, in order to be easy to maneuver.26 In our case however, our butterfly was a specimen whose body was dried out specifically to preserve it in its original material form. Also, we could not rehydrate it (like we did with beetles and spiders) since its wings are too fragile and brittle. As a result, the desiccated state of the butterfly adversely influenced our casting. It was stiff and hard to manipulate.
Based on what we learned about the butterfly’s fragility from our first trial, we decided to try out the one-piece mold so as to reduce our direct physical contact with it. Building a V channel on the clay base to serve both as the channel for metal to flow and also to support the butterfly [Fig. 33 V channel on the clay base], we used a pin to carefully pierce the belly of the butterfly and to fix it on the top of the V channel. After that we melted some wax to solidify the joint between its wings and body [Fig. 34 A fixed butterfly with body parts solidified by wax], since our specimen was rather fragile and the wings fell apart from the body part easily. Since our preceding experiment in coating a butterfly with wheat oil failed, we tried melted butter to both lay down the hairy part of its body and to thicken the wings. Our interaction with butter turned out to be the most difficult part of this process. The following excerpt from our field notes encapsulated our sensory feeling in working with butter:
“Facing the melted yellowish butter in front of me, my mind was actually unsettled. My hands even start to tremble when I recall my last entanglement with butter, when we are molding the pansy. Using a paint brush, I carefully applied the lukewarm butter to the petals of the pansy. Like drawing a painting, brushstroke after brushstroke, the pansy was covered with butter. Then it began to die! The petals failed to withhold the weight of the butter. How frustrated! This time again, I have to face the butter. My last unpleasant encounter with it simply makes me afraid, but I have no other choice. This time, instead of applying the butter brushstroke after brushstroke, which is really time-consuming, I decided to do it fast in order to same time. I dipped my paintbrush into the melted butter for some time and then pull it out. At the end of the brush there is a droplet of butter dangling and swaying. I then placed the brushstroke right beyond the wings of the butterfly, and waited the droplet to fall freely on the wings. Since the wings of the butterfly has a slight slope, the droplet of butter just fell and flew throughout the surface of the wings according to the declivity. The only thing I have to do is to blow the butter to flow more evenly through the surface of the wings and then to absorb redundant butter with paper towel at the lower end of the wings. And it works quite well! I was really excited about that. That moment is like a magic moment for me. It is like a sudden enlightenment disclosed through trials and errors. From this experience I learnt that melted butter has its own life and trajectory, its own agency and habits. When encountering with it, we must try to know more about its life and habit so that we can cooperate with each other.”27
The description above serves as a good example of an auto-ethnography, which is widely used in sensory ethnographies to reflect the situation of the ethnographer. By “calling on the body as a site of scholarly awareness and corporeal literacy,”28 auto-ethnography focuses on the corporeal and bodily practices, and is a good way to reflect on sensory experiences in writing.29 To let the melted butter flow automatically using the declivity of the wings in space, is to follow the habit and the moving trajectory of certain kinds of material. At the same time, it keeps to the principle of reducing physical contact with the fragile wings to a minimum, since by this way the brushstroke does not necessarily have to have contact with the wings and do potential damage to it. In this sense, the butterfly, the wings with a slope in space, the paintbrush with drops of butter on it, as well as the flow of the melted butter, all constitute an agentic assemblage, a term defined here by Jane Bennett:
“…an assemblage owes its agentic capacity to the vitality of the materialities that constitute it. Something like this congregational agency is called shi in the Chinese tradition. Shi helps to ‘illuminate something that is usually difficult to capture in discourse: namely, the kind of potential that originates not in human initiative but instead results from the very disposition of things.’ Shi is the style, energy, propensity, trajectory, or élan inherent to a specific arrangement of things.”30
The encounter with the melted butter in our reconstruction here is an example to follow the shi of the disposition and the propensity of materials, is to go back to things themselves, is an attempt to reflect on our anthropocentric tendency when interacting with matter. By encountering and interacting with materials, we start to get a sense of intimacy with materials. Indeed, materials in our reconstructions are not dead and lifeless things – instead they are vibrant matter.
Up to now, our reconstruction showed that melted butter proved to be a good material to thicken delicate things as long as one follows its habits. Furthermore, the one-piece mold proved better than the two-piece mold because in the former the potential damage to delicate things can be reduced to a minimum level. Also, our sensory encounter with the melted butter partly explains the tentativeness the author-practitioner exhibited when faced with using butter. In other words, in the sensory interaction with the material, the intimacy with material is beyond language. It resists some but not all linguistic capture. It is easier to feel than to express. The opaque and vague vocabulary and the contradictory attitude towards melted butter that runs through the whole manuscript might partly be explained by this reason.
Final thoughts
In this annotation, we mainly focused on the decipherment and reconstruction of certain recipes in fol. 142v, “Molding grasshoppers and other things too thin.” Belonging to the category of casting and molding things in the manuscript, this recipe shows the ambitions and interests of the author-practitioner in molding delicate and thin parts of small objects ranging from inanimate things (such as paper) to animate things (such as flowers and insects). Following the processes of textual analysis and then hands-on reconstruction, we start to get a sense of how the processes of making and knowing are intertwined with each other: how knowing aids or can hinder making, and how making both reinforces and brings new knowledge into being. We start to understand the importance and necessity of incorporating making as a methodology into historical studies: the making process can pose new and unexpected questions about the knowing process.
Bibliography
Amico, Leonard. Bernard Palissy: In Search of Earthly Paradise. Paris: Flammarion, 1996.
Bennett, Jane. Vibrant Matter: A Political Ecology of Things. Durham: Duke University Press, 2010.
Lacroze, J. Cornand de. A historical grammar: or A chronological abridgement of universal history. To which is added, an abridged chronology of the most remarkable discoveries and inventions relative to the arts and sciences, & c. Designed principally for the use of schools and academies. Tr. by Lucy Peacock, from the 7th ed. of the French of Lacroze. Rev., corr. and greatly enl. by Caleb Bingham. Boston: Printed by D. Carlisle for C. Bingham, 1802.
O’Connor, Erin. “Embodied Knowledge in Glassblowing: The Experience of Meaning and the Struggle towards Proficiency.” The Sociological Review 55 (May 1, 2007): 126–41.
Saussure, Ferdinand de. Course in General Linguistics. LaSalle, Ill: Open Court, 2002.
Smith, Pamela H., and Tonny Beentjes. “Nature and Art, Making and Knowing: Reconstructing Sixteenth-Century Life-Casting Techniques.” Renaissance Quarterly 63, no. 1 (Spring 2010): 128–79.
Smith, Pamela H. “Between Nature and Art: Casting from Life in Sixteenth-Century Europe,” Making and Growing: Anthropological Studies of Organisms and Artefacts, Elizabeth Hallam and Tim Ingold, eds. Farnham, Surrey; Burlington, VT : Ashgate Publishing Company, 2014.
Spry, Tami. “Performing Autoethnography: An Embodied Methodological Praxis.” Qualitative Inquiry 7, no. 6 (2001): 706–32.
1 Pamela H. Smith and Tonny Beentjes, “Nature and Art, Making and Knowing: Reconstructing Sixteenth-Century Life-Casting Techniques,” Renaissance Quarterly 63, no. 1 (Spring 2010): 136.
2 Smith and Beentjes, “Making and Knowing,” 136.
3 Recipes relating to gum: fols. 3v, 4r, 6r, 8v, 10r, 19v, 29r and v, 62r, 65v, 67r, 71v, 74r and v, 75r and v, 76r and v, 78r and v, 79v, 84v, 89v, 101v, 129r, 130v, 142v, and 165r.
4 For recipes containing the term “gum water” or “gummed water” see fols. 8v, 74r and v, 75v, 78r and v, 84v, and 89v.
5 See the recipe on fol. 131r: “Le{tt}re papier moule” (“molded letter paper”) specifies “Escripts de quelque ancre bien gommee ou de quelque couleur qui aye corps & qui ne se defface point estant mouille deau de vye puys pose ton papier sur la plastre dardille & le mouille deau de vye & gecte dune part & daultre” (“Write with some ink bien gommé or any other color dye which has body, and which is not erased if dampened with brandy. Then put your paper on the sheet of clay, and dampen it with brandy. Cast both sides [of paper]”).
6 For recipes concerning oil-based varnishes see fols. 3r and v, 4r and v, 6r, 7r, 10r, 31r, 57r, 60r and v, 67r and v, 71v, 73v, 74r, 77v, 78r, 88r, 97v, 98r, 99v, and 101v.
7 The word “printed” was translated from the French word “imprime”, which means “printed, imprinted, stamped, sealed”; see Randal Cotgrave, A Dictionary of French and English Tongues, (London: Adam Islip, 1611). Cotgrave gives three possible interpretations of the phrase: 1) paper that has been printed; 2) as “stamped paper”, taking “stamped” as an action word, in juxtaposition with “oiled”, which means that the paper should be physically stamped or it should be imprinted (with something) before creating writing on it. The last takes “stamped paper” as a phrase, referring to revenue stamped paper, a foolscap piece of paper bearing a pre-printed revenue stamp. It has been widely used around the world to collect taxes on documents requiring stamping, such as leases, agreements, receipts, court documents and many others. The papers are bought blank apart from the pre-printed stamp and are available from stationers, lawyers offices, post offices and courts according to local regulations.# Stamped paper is a Spanish invention and was introduced into Netherland in 1555, the time period around which it was introduced to France is yet to be specified. See J. Cornand de Lacroze, A historical grammar.
8 Carlson and Katz suggest that “the best type of paper to use for this recipe would be gelatin-sized sheets made of hemp and cotton fiber.” These sheets are now typically used in the conservation of rare books from the period, thus they are expected to have a comparable effect in terms of their reaction to the writing materials. The paper we used in our reconstruction was the leftover from Carlson and Katz experiment, which is “50-50 hemp and cotton, heavy weight for a book paper, and third quality.” See Raymond Carlson and Jordan Katz, Annotation for BnF. Ms. Fr. 640, fol. 131r, “Moulded Letter Paper”, Fall 2014.
9 For life casting recipes using soaked sand to make the mold see fols. 113r, 114r, 116r, 126v, 127v, 129r and v, 133v, 134r, and 157v. For the definition of “Noyau” as “the mould that is within the peece of ordnance when it is cast,” see Cotgrave, Dictionary.
10 Smith, “Life in Sixteenth-Century Europe,” 45.
11 Our research into the differences between cinnabar and Venice Red shows that cinnabar is mainly distinguished from other color pigments because of its reddish color. The physical and chemical properties of both cinnabar and Venetian Red are detailed in the Material Safety Data Sheet# for both substances. THIS DATA SHEET INFO SHOULD ALL BE IN YOUR FIELD NOTES, NOT HERE
Cinnabar:
PHYSICAL AND CHEMICAL PROPERTIES BOILING POINT: 171F
MELTING POINT: N/A
VAPOR PRESSURE: N/A
VAPOR DENSITY: Heavier Than Air
SOLUBILITY IN WATER: N/A
SPECIFIC GRAVITY: 0.932
COATING VOC LB/GL: 6.3899 lb/gl
COATING VOC GM/LTR: 766 g/l
MATERIAL VOC LB/GL: 6.8165 lb/gl
MATERIAL VOC GM/LTR: 817 g/l %
VOLATILE BY VOLUME: 85.671%
EVAPORATION RATE: Faster than Butyl Acetate.
WEIGHT PER GALLON: 7.762 lb/gl
PH: N/A
ODOR: N/A
APPEARANCE: Colored Liquid
Venetian Red:
BOILING RANGE: 387 deg F – 471 deg F
SPECIFIC GRAVITY (H2O=1): 1.35
VAPOR DENSITY: HEAVIER THAN AIR
EVAPORATION RATE: SLOWER THAN ETHER
COATING V.O.C.: 0.96 lb/gl, 115 g/l
MATERIAL V.O.C.: 0.43 lb/gl, 52 g/l
SOLUBILITY IN WATER: Complete
APPEARANCE AND ODOR: Liquid, mild odor
After comparison of the chemical and physical properties of these two materials, we came to the conclusion that one potential difference that might influence the result of our reconstruction is the solubility. The Material Safety Data Sheet only provides us with the solubility in water but not in oil. So we cannot tell what is the difference when these two materials are put into oil.
12 We began by carrying out an experiment to see the difference between oiled paper and non-oiled paper when it encounters soaked sand, which we determined to be plaster. We took two small pieces of paper, one without oil and one with oil applied on both sides of it [Fig. 1 Two pieces of paper, one oiled and one not oiled]. Then we put both pieces into plaster and waited for five minutes, after which point we took them out of the plaster. The one without oil was soaked and plaster just clung to the surface of the paper. In contrast, the oiled paper with its oiled surface resisted the soaking in the plaster, and its surface came out smooth with only a little plaster clinging to it. [Fig. 2 The outcome of the paper after five-minute soaking in the plaster]. Most certainly, the oiled paper was more waterproof than the non-oiled paper.
13 Carlson and Katz, Annotation for BnF Ms. Fr. 640, fols. 129r, “Molded Roses;” 155r, “Molding a Rose;” and 155v, “Roses,” Fall 2014.
14 Leonard Amico, Bernard Palissy: In Search of Earthly Paradise (Paris: Flammarion, 1996), 168.
15 Ibid.
16 Amico, Bernard Palissy, 168.
17 Plat, Jewell House of Art and Nature.
18 Fol. 129r: “Roses are molded with difficulty because of their leaves which are very delicate, double and soft. To obviate these disadvantages rub it with wheat oil which is very dessicant, once dried the oil stiffens the leafs which will withstand soaked sand. Do the same thing with flies, pansies, and other delicate things like capers” (our emphasis).
19 Fol. 154v: “One doesn’t use wheat oil to strengthen flowers and herbages, but one uses melted butter. Cover the back of the leafs of flowers, e.g. : roses, pansies with a fine coat of melted butter, do the same with flowers which need to be strengthened. One uses wheat oil to strengthen the feet of a fly or of any small animal” (our emphasis).
20 Pamela H. Smith,“Between Nature and Art: Casting from Life in Sixteenth-Century Europe,” in Making and Growing: Anthropological Studies of Organisms and Artefacts, eds. Elizabeth Hallam and Tim Ingold (Farnham, Surrey; Burlington, VT: Ashgate Publishing Company, 2014), 45.
21 Fol. 110v “Wheat oil”: Is made on a blade of iron reddened in the fire, and the oil turns into drops, which is appropriate to oil the hair of a butterfly or similar thing, because this oil is instantly dry and makes the rest dry out. It is necessary that the coat or down of any animal that you want to mold be flat, because standing up, it will make the sand raise up and form bubbles.
23Fol. 124r “Hairy animals and very thin delicate flowers.” It is difficult to mold hairy animals because hairs raise up and come out looking mixed and entangled. Therefore, it is necessary to keep it laid down with a drying agent and which makes it firmer, and the best thing to use is wheat oil, with which you will anoint it. Once cast, you will be able to repair it. The bodies of butterflies or of herbs that have a stem and leaves that are rugged with downy and lanuginous hairs must also be anointed in the same oil to keep this foliage laid down. With these, flowers that have very delicate and thin leaves because dry wheat oil straightens them and makes them firm. And, If someone brags to [be able to] cast anything that will be given to them, give them to cast the fuzzy head of the herb called dandelion or a papus, which comes from the seeds of lapasses and takes flight at the slightest sigh of wind.
22 Fol. 129v: Usually big spiders have hairy legs, which are molded with difficulty if you do not lay hairs down flat, or if you don’t burn it with the flame of a candle, you can make these hairs firmer if you rub them with wheat oil. Kill spiders into vinegar and urine or brandy as you had killed snakes. Then arrange your spider on a beautiful vine leaf, or another leaf, then you can make the hairs […] , hairs which are finely ground and rubbed with fish glue or something similar.
23 Fol. 130r: Also You cannot mold the hairy legs of big spiders, as any other hairy animal, if not laid flat, and rubbed with wheat oil which makes hairs firmer, and which dry very soon. Hairy things entangle in the sand, and do not burn very well
24 Fol. 152r: It is much better to rub hairy animals with butter than with wheat oil, because butter is much better and much more useful
25 Fol. 154v: One doesn’t use wheat oil to strengthen flowers and herbages, but one uses melted butter. Cover the back of the leafs of flowers, e.g. : roses, pansies with a fine coat of melted butter, do the same with flowers which need to be strengthened. One uses wheat oil to strengthen the feet of a fly or of any small animal.
26 See fol. 152r in which the author gives this guideline about killing an animal: “Do not mold your animals right away (except snakes and lizards), but rather wait a day or two so that they become easier to maneuver.”
27 From Shiye Fu’s field notes about the experience.
28 Tami Spry, “Performing Autoethnography: An Embodied Methodological Praxis,” Qualitative Inquiry 7, no.6 (2001): 706.
29 See also Erin O’ Connor, “Embodied Knowledge in Glassblowing: The Experience of Meaning and the Struggle Towards Proficiency,” The Sociological Review 55 (May 2007).
30 Jane Bennett, Vibrant Matter (Durham: Duke University Press, 2010), 35.