The Student, the Fish, and Agassiz by Samuel H. Scudder.
I was reminded of this story by Jenni Sargent’s Piecing together visual clues for verification.
Like Jenni, I assume that we can photograph, photo-copy or otherwise image anything of interest. Quickly.
But in quickly creating images, we also created the need to skim images, missing details that longer study would capture.
You should read the story in full but here’s enough to capture your interest:
It was more than fifteen years ago that I entered the laboratory of Professor Agassiz, and told him I had enrolled my name in the scientific school as a student of natural history. He asked me a few questions about my object in coming, my antecedents generally, the mode in which I afterwards proposed to use the knowledge I might acquire, and finally, whether I wished to study any special branch. To the latter I replied that while I wished to be well grounded in all departments of zoology, I purposed to devote myself specially to insects.
“When do you wish to begin?” he asked.
“Now,” I replied.
This seemed to please him, and with an energetic “Very well,” he reached from a shelf a huge jar of specimens in yellow alcohol.
“Take this fish,” he said, “and look at it; we call it a Haemulon; by and by I will ask what you have seen.”
…
In ten minutes I had seen all that could be seen in that fish, and started in search of the professor, who had, however, left the museum; and when I returned, after lingering over some of the odd animals stored in the upper apartment, my specimen was dry all over. I dashed the fluid over the fish as if to resuscitate it from a fainting-fit, and looked with anxiety for a return of a normal, sloppy appearance. This little excitement over, nothing was to be done but return to a steadfast gaze at my mute companion. Half an hour passed, an hour, another hour; the fish began to look loathsome. I turned it over and around; looked it in the face — ghastly; from behind, beneath, above, sideways, at a three-quarters view — just as ghastly. I was in despair; at an early hour, I concluded that lunch was necessary; so with infinite relief, the fish was carefully replaced in the jar, and for an hour I was free.
On my return, I learned that Professor Agassiz had been at the museum, but had gone and would not return for several hours. My fellow students were too busy to be disturbed by continued conversation. Slowly I drew forth that hideous fish, and with a feeling of desperation again looked at it. I might not use a magnifying glass; instruments of all kinds were interdicted. My two hands, my two eyes, and the fish; it seemed a most limited field. I pushed my fingers down its throat to see how sharp its teeth were. I began to count the scales in the different rows until I was convinced that that was nonsense. At last a happy thought struck me — I would draw the fish; and now with surprise I began to discover new features in the creature. Just then the professor returned.
“That is right said he, “a pencil is one of the best eyes. I am glad to notice, too, that you keep your specimen wet and your bottle corked.”
…
The student spends many more hours with the same fish but you need to read the account for yourself to fully appreciate it. There are other versions of the story which have been gathered here.
Two questions:
- When was the last time you spent even ten minutes looking at a photograph or infographic?
- When was the last time you tried drawing a copy of an image to make sure you are “seeing” all the detail an image has to offer?
I don’t offer myself as a model as “I can’t recall” is my answer to both questions.
In a world awash in images, shouldn’t we all be able to give a better answer than that?
Some addition resources on drawing versus photography.
Why We Should Draw More (and Photograph Less) – School of Life.
Why you should stop taking pictures on your phone – and learn to draw
The Elements of Drawing, in Three Letters to Beginners by John Ruskin
BTW, Ruskin was no Luddite of the mid-nineteenth century. He was an early adopter of photography to document the architecture of Venice.
How many images do you “view” in a day without really “seeing” them?
