Comparakeet

Doubtless, the reader will say, while looking at the seven figures of Parakeets represented in the plate, that I spared not my labor. I never do, so anxious am I to promote his pleasure. —John James Audubon

Comparing two versions of the now extinct Carolina Parakeet—Mark Catesby’s 1771 engraving with John James Audubon’s 1825 plate—is to witness the inanimate come to life. Catesby follows a traditional eighteenth-century drawing style: a single bird, set in profile, against a blank background. [1] Audubon documents a visual breakthrough in ornithological illustration: his parakeets are drawn in context, in motion, and (seemingly) in collaboration. This is no flock fluke, as these parakeets could be found “climbing or hanging in every imaginable posture … [and] usually alight extremely close together,” [2] thus giving a more accurate behavioral representation.

From the singular to the singular sensation, this example parallels the impact that the digital humanities is having on academic study. It encourages collaborative projects over single authored ones; it broadens contexts through print and digital connectivity; and (like Audubon’s foreshortened parrot, staring straight at us) it engages with vast audiences, through digital networks and accessibility. This dynamic field breathes life into our interpretation of history, and the result is de-extinction. Through the emergence of the digital humanities, the humanities come alive with new research possibilities that enhance traditional methods of learning. Let’s see how Audubon’s work, in particular, can be reframed through this digital lens.

Audubon’s Birds of America comprises 435 engravings that represent 1,065 birds. His aviary offerings seem boundless, yet viewing this rare folio is limiting if only one plate at a time is displayed. What is lacking from this typical viewing experience is comparison. Pictures alone are merely pictures, “however when part of a sequence, a sequence of only two, the art of the image is transformed into something more” [3]—animation, illusion, interpretation. Finding correlations between plates, between plates and preparatory sketches, as well as texts, is instructive. However, if the material is too precious to display physically, then what are the digital assets that could supplement and enhance this type of display? Perhaps a dynamic table of contents; non-linear sorting (viewing pages based on similarity in composition, backgrounds, behaviors, bird size, etc.); annotations or audio; 3-D rendering or stacking; zoom and search functions; or juxtaposition for cross-referencing. These are methods for learning—there are surprises that transpire through these digital affordances; they are revealing and they ask us to reevaluate our expectations. Conceiving Audubon’s work comprehensively as a digital database would allow viewers, researchers, and teachers to “visually interpret, remap or reframe.” [4] 

Did you know that Audubon published a companion text whose title is as long as a flamingo’s neck: Ornithological Biography, Or an Account of the Habits of the Birds of the United States of America: Accompanied by Descriptions of the Objects Represented in the Work Entitled The Birds of America, and Interspersed with Delineations of American Scenery and Manners. As the above suggests, this field guide is in direct dialogue with each plate, yet rarely are these documents displayed together.

What a design opportunity! How can digital technology integrate text and image? How can design unite two disparate manuscripts that were intended to be utilized together?  

As revealed in an Audubon exhibit at the New-York Historical Society, the artist made preparatory “watercolors” for each plate. Not mere sketches, but elaborate compositions that served as guides for replication. How do these drawings compare to their corresponding plate? What do their discrepancies reveal about the artistic contribution of Robert Havell, Jr. (or should we say Robert Havell, Genius?), the esteemed printer of Birds of America? And more importantly, how do these supplemental image and text collections cross-chronicle history?

The pièce de résistance comes at the moment the peacock displays his plumage: never before has there been a comprehensive display of watercolors with their corresponding plates. [5] Never before could we digitally layer the two for comparison. We have a “neural network for the concept of comparison.” [6] Juxtaposition produces immediate cognitive effects, as evidenced in the following GIF animations. From this unique digital perspective, collaborative efforts unfold and questions arise.

Indeed, this is a “galvanizing moment to be a humanist involved in devising, designing, and deploying new tools; in opening expanded modes of inquiry unthinkable under pre-digital conditions…through the as-yet-unrealized possibilities of digital platforms.” [7] History touts Audubon as the single auteur—a solitary bird. Comparisons reveal otherwise. His work was part of a flock. So if history gives you the bird, redefine it, digitally, as a mother flocker.

American Flamingo | watercolor with plate 431

This is an exacting comparison of the flamingo’s shape and size. Such fidelity to form is common throughout most of Audubon’s watercolor to plate comparisons, suggesting that tracing methods were employed.* The background has been added as well, which was the artistic contribution of the engraver (the aforementioned Havell), but how was it art directed, if at all?

* 1 Susanne M. Low, An Index and Guide to Audubon’s Birds of America (New York: American Museum of Natural History, 1988).

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A kind thank you is extended to Michael Dabrishus, Joseph Goddu, and Roberta Olson for their generous and scholarly answers to my inquiries.