If geographers chance to meet where maps are displayed (it scarcely matters what maps) they comment, commend, criticize. Maps break down our inhibitions, stimulate our glands, stir our imagination, loose our tongues. The map speaks across the barrier of language; it is sometimes claimed as the language of geography. (Sauer 1956: 289)
We knew geography was theoretically sophisticated, politically engaged and socially committed, but everyone else thought it was about maps. So we suppressed our cartographic impulses and as the cultural turn took hold, our desire for mapping was obscured by our mappings of desire. (Painter 2006: 346)
The meaning of the figure is undecidable, and yet we must attempt to dis-figure it, read the logic of the metaphor. (Spivak 2006: 71)
Cartographic anxieties
A woman is sitting on a chair at a table with a sewing machine. At a closer view, that table is covered by maps. Several maps of the former British colonies published in different years and at different scales. After moments of deep silence, the sewing machine is turned on and it starts to stitch the land of Ireland onto the map of United Kingdom. Then it goes further on suturing the borders of Nigeria, West Indies and Hong Kong. The stitching of the sewing machine starts at a regular pace, appearing like a person wondering where to go, and setting the cadence for a sort of narration. Appearances are deceiving, though. And just at the moment in which I am accustomed to the routine of the process, the fast but regular rhythm turns into a convulsion. Suddenly, the machine becomes increasingly faster, stitching the maps in a non-stop, furious manner until it drills and erases the surface of the paper. A real-time topography of borders and conquests comes to life and simultaneously dies, agitated by the blows of a household machine, that while suturing the lands of the English colonies with a thumping noise reminiscent of a gun, is capable of revealing the performative value of the map itself. Indeed, each drawn line is historically and materially nothing than a line of subjugation and annihilation.
In the meanwhile, a video camera records and projects a live stream of the image of the sewing machine needle onto the wall, thus highlighting the connection between the gesture of stitching maps and the mechanical annexation of land. Speakers amplify the sounds emitted by the sewing machine emphasizing synqesthetically the impression to be under the regiment of an ensuing firefight. The disfigured maps of the British Empire are finally stitched into an Atlas, provisionally attached to the wall. A chaotic frame that not only shows performative destruction, but consists of it. (Field diary, December 12, 2015).
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Figure 2. A screenshot of the performance ‘Map Series’ where the artist is suturing maps of British colonies.
Courtesy of Ana Mendes
Figure 3. Detail of Map Series. A collage of all the stitched and worn maps attached on the wall. Courtesy of the artist
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The woman in question is a Portuguese artist, Ana Mendes, and the chair on which she sits forms a part of an installation/performance—Map Series—presented in London on 12th December 201519. The viewer finds herself immersed inside the whole installation. It is demanded to react with several senses and to move around the table where the artist is sewing and practically destroying maps and to watch the screen to see the same experience from another perspective. Mendes’ evocative image powerfully renders the idea that “the map had (and still has) its hand dirty with matters of the world” (Watson 2009: 41).
Maps, on the other hand, are never just ‘mere’ representations. As it suggests the etymology of the term, the map is a textile (lat. mappa) or made of paper (lat. charta), is tactile and visual, normative and informative, a haptic materialization and documentation of an abstract order or narration (Harley and Woodward 1987; Mangani 2006).
Likewise, map-making is often (but not always) associated by several artists with a desire of control endowed in a logic of containment and division made possible through boundaries and hierarchies. Rather than giving any illusion of a frictionless vision of the world, cartography is hence diverted by Ana Mendes in a pervasive colonial device. It is by virtue of this intolerance that the sense of oversight and coercion is twisted as a feeling of exhaustion; an “exhaustion” around those powerful cartographies, pillaging an expression coined by art theorist Irit Rogoff (2010), that has been at length pictured and experienced by cultural geographers themselves.
Whole swathes of critical geographers have spent their careers to expose the nature of maps as technologies of power, ideological devices and performative representations developed on the basis of statist and corporate interests (territorial control, facilitation of citizens’ self-identification, explorations, colonialism, and imperialism). Italian geographer Farinelli (2009: 61) drags the argument directly to the heart of darkness of representationalism when he firmly claims that the modern state is nothing but a copy and assemblage of the geographical map. Put differently, it can be argued that a power machine needs an image of thought—a figure—to which it procures the strength to function in return (Deleuze and Parnet 2007). Seen from this angle, the map has anticipated, created, moulded the face of the state. In short, geography has provided the grammar of power, the abstract machine needed
19 The performance “Map Series” was presented at Rich Mix in London on December 12, 2015 as part of the
broad multi-disciplinary exhibition “L’ Intru-Invaders” curated by the same artist and dealing with issues of post-colonialism, memory, identity and capitalism. Before that occasion, Map Series has been performed in Lisbon, Berlin, Munich, London and Vienna. I attended the exhibition after earlier interviews with the artist. Ana Mendes uses second hand maps, buying them in markets, finding them in books or asking for copies in libraries, as for the case of the British Library (Interview May 31, 2015).
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by institutions to organize their own form of control. A refrain repeated in chorus by critical geographers, a tremendous syllogismreturned in its caustic clarity from the words of Brian Harley: “[i]n modern times the greater the administrative complexity of the state—and the more pervasive its territorial and social ambitions—then the greater its appetite for maps” (2001: 55).
In the spotlight on this critical endeavour, the reader should not be disoriented to find Mendes’s performance as an anticipatory figure of the main theoretical trajectories—strictly imbued with the cultural representationalism sketched in the previous chapter—that will be unfolded in the present one: the performative and discursive dimension of the political map, the apparent indissoluble knot between map-making and colonialism intersected with and revealed by the paradoxical incursions, i.e. “map-breakings” (Huggan 1989), encouraged by interloper cartographers such as feminist and postcolonial subjects. In short, those are the chosen reading strategies of a genealogical critique of the map trope. Here it is, now, offered to you, dear reader, a map not as a simple piece of printed or handrawn paper but taking the form of a figure and an image of thought. Thus, after mapped out the epistemological, philosophical and cultural coordinates binding the concept of representation to that of geography, is now time to see closer the theoretical debate on the geographical representation par excellence, the Map, mobilizing the contributions of the most influential Anglo- American and continental geographers. Indeed, speaking theoretically of the forms of thought such as that of representation cannot have the same effect as talking on a specific and contextual level. We need now to consider how to translate the vertigo of several representational crises on the cartographic ground. Specifically, if this totemic word— representation—allows to build a bridge between reality and desire (Dematteis 1985), the map-representation has become the fetish image within which to pour all the desire, anxiety and paranoia experimented or unveiled by critical geographers, especially during the postmodernism.
In truth, the gesture of exposing and unveiling the cartographic gaze is concerted and it reaches its peak in the late 1980s. It is in fact in the theoretical ferment unleashed by the dismantling of positivism, but also propelled by the cultural semiotic and historical reading of the cartographic enterprise, until the final dismantling fuelled by the deconstructivist and textual approach of the cultural turn that the contours of a cartographic neurosis begin to be sketched and then systematized.Diverse and intense interpretations, disfigurations and re- figurations of the map unwind in the driving figure of the “cartographic anxiety”: an
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intellectual syndrome of suspicion and doubt condensed in the political project of unmasking every silent and totalizing knowledge.
To be more specific, this is not the common idea that geographers have about the notion of cartographic anxiety. Geographer Painter (2008) has noticed that the term “cartographic anxiety” was firstly used by Derek Gregory (1994) about the notion of “Cartesian anxiety” by Richard Bernstein. It designates the frantic search for a foundation, a stable ordering principle from which follows classification and knowledge. Importantly, this approach commonly considers the perspective of those in power and their paranoid obsession for control, hence for mapping and totalization. However, I will no longer follow the detours of this theme. My aim is rather to overturn the meaning of the concept made by those authors, by addressing such anxiety from the point of view of geographers themselves, therefore as a feeling of apprehension they have for those who want to map everything.The paranoia becomes then a typical post-modern scepticism towards the universalist claims of modern science in the attempt to unmask those “principles” and “unsaid” governing order. In other words, I am asking myself: is the faceless power anxious of knowing and controlling everything or is the geographer anxious that the power could actually reach its purpose?
As I have already more than implied with this disposition a great piece of cultural geographers started during 1980 and 1990 to show feverishly and frantically the evil side of cartography in order to unpick “the violence associated with the drawing and policy of mapping” (Painter 2008: 89). Since that moment the consequent ‘cartophobia’20 will act as the marking line to separate the careers of many geographers from the cartographers’ ones, whose scientific background will be later transposed in the technology and science of geo- information (see Chapter 3). The following cartophobia is a critical gesture with its strengths and weaknesses that works simultaneously on two complementary levels. For some geographers the problem is inherently ontological and it concerns closely the map per se, since as a model of knowledge it pretends to precede or to substitute the territory; for others, the difficulty lies in “the bad things people did and do with maps” (Wood 1992: 50), hence in the extrinsic-pragmatic power of the map, seen as a discursive device used to exert (by naturalising) political and economic power through several actors in different epochs and spatial contexts. Looking at the human geographers’ massive production on the historical
20 Similarly, geographer Wheeler curated an editorial for the Journal of Urban Geography in 1998 on ‘Mapphobia
in Geography’ signalling the period 1980-1996 as the most engaged to and obsessed with such cartographic anxiety.
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cartography is indeed incontestable that historians, geographers, philosophers, and sociologists have begun during the 80s and 90s: “an analysis of the ways in which politics has intruded upon or imbued mapping so that maps serve particular interests” (Crampton 2003: 4). Along with those who claimed that maps could be also used for political ends, there were those who implicitly argued that all maps were always a matter of power, serving the interests of specific classes and political groups. In such recital, it is crucial to keep in mind the two operating forces of the map, the two already sketched features that will run through the analyses of this chapter: the extrinsic-pragmatic power and the intrinsic-ontological power of the map. This dual attitude has then heavily influenced the way in which geographers have perceived the work of/on spatial representations, looking at their inherent limits as well as at their ideological applications.
In such over-emphasized blueprint, the work being done by critical theorists in the United Kingdom, United States, Canada, Italy, Sweden, France and the like is far too rich and multiple to be reduced to a number or a school and one often perceives only the most visible, situated in the Anglo-American area. There are nevertheless very different sets of reading effects being produced in the several countries, each one with its own set of debates and limitations. But they did, in their collective emphasis, designate a particular attitude, a certain posture toward thinking critically about the cartographic epistemology and ontology. For these reasons, the path proposed should be intended as a truly rhizomatic, partial, and subjective journey, given that the work of each scholar could be situated at the intersections of several and multiple theoretical trajectories. Yet, sewing the numerous threads of analysis may help to unfold eventually the status of cartography today, considering both the reflexive attitude of cartographers and the reflective attitude of geographers. Indeed, there is a way in which cartographers tell the history/fiction of their discipline and a way in which geographers, especially human and cultural geographers, look at the same. It is precisely this divide, this tremendous gap, that demands to be discerned, observed and then filled with new critical inquiries. The purpose of the next two chapters is a shaky and precarious crossing of this scenario.
In this dissertation, though, it is more explicitly considered the point of view of the human geographer, intersected with some critique then raised by historical and contemporary cartographers as a way to defend or to re-scale the scope of the geographic demolition of the map-maker’s career. In this regard, each phase of the relationship between geography and cartography is marked by important and peculiar questions, dictated by epistemological and
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philosophical influences. Consequently, the effort to propose a progressive line of the cartographic ‘affaire’ is an impossible and divert task; firstly because of the amount of work that has been produced in this field; secondly because the classification and systematization of various paradigms and interpretations runs the risk to tell a full-filled history of the cartographic thought (Edney 1993) without considering the intricate relationship, time lags, the redundancy of certain claims that, after historicized and put in resonance in a broader network, may also recast and demise the fashion of novelty in which contemporary approaches are often set, letting instead to shed light to a reversibility and recursion of theories, anxieties and interpretations around the ‘map trouble’.
Therefore, I insist on arguing that the themes to be discussed are concatenated to each other according to a “diagram at multiple entry ways” (Deleuze and Guattari 1988). However, not to get lost in the chaos of these tortuous levels, we should untangle the layers of this process, even if this operation may give an impression to reify and perhaps caging that fluid and not always systematized theoretical suggestions. As a first step, it is crucial to understand how the concept of the map has been articulated and re-articulated with that of representation, and in cascade with the notion of power, performance, and subjective experience. For this, in the previous chapter it has been considered essential to reconstruct the impact of the cultural turn on the discipline up to the non-representational theory; that manoeuvre can be now seen as an attempt to address the same preoccupations within the critical study of the postmodern and cultural cartography, where “map metaphor becomes a key site for the poststructuralist critique of classical and modernist thought” (Mitchell 2013: 3).
Drilling holes into the cartographic language
Reading the map as a figure leads us to make a brief leap in the etymology of the word. In its Latin meaning, indeed, we discover that the term “figure” has the same root as the Latin verb fingo which means “to create, to shape” as well as “to pretend, to simulate”.
Therefore, the Map, when considered a figure, can be scrutinized both as a concealment of the world and as a material and haptic object. In hindsight, the epistemological gait suggests that representations are textural images which may also be worn and corroded. In the same vein, it may not be surprising that the dramatist Samuel Beckett has exposed his writing project against the limits of the language as a “drill one hole after another into
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[language] until that which lurks behind, be it something or nothing, starts seeping through” (1937, 1:518).
Many geographers, especially between the 1980s and 1990s, have applied the same surgical operation against the cartographic language, manifesting a need to pick holes in the map to see or understand what is hidden behind, signalling the passage into an epoch of disfiguration, a tremendous reading of “the logic of the metaphor” (Spivak 2006: 71). In such a vivid and material picture, we can now better understand that thanks to a controlled fiction, to be understood in the literal sense of a dissimulation and of a fabrication whose original traces are lost, the reasoning about space has long posed as objective and neutral. This way, the language conveyed has not been questioned by its producers and considered rather as a neutral medium. Hence, the adoption of a geometrical spatial model by positivist geographers already in the XIX century has conducted the map in the realm of phenomenal where there was no clear distinction between how things appear and what they are (Farinelli 1992). Hereafter, critical thinking has knocked the door of geography, dragging a heavy arsenal of harmful theories. Under the bombs of critical theory, geographers have metaphorically and furiously shredded and slashed globes and maps to unmask the hidden and tremendous secret of their tacit power. Disfiguring and dismantling the mimetic pattern of the map, that is—in a nutshell—its pretentious claim to be the territory, has coincided with the rethinking of the discipline’s main tenets, by digging the bottom where the roots of certain theories and methodologies are implanted, if we think that the map as well as other economic and urban location models are all representations—namely constructions—to be believed to be true and real through a series of conventions that are repeated to the point to be taken for granted. These have been functional, as well as the illusion of geographical calculation, to the transformation of the geography in nomothetic science (Dematteis 1985). Yet, as long as geography has been trapped in the cage of modern science with its positivist paradigm, especially reinvigorated by the quantitative revolution, a truly cartographic epistemology has not been called into question; the map has been addressed as a form of neutral and objective knowledge—a transparent copy of the world—within pact to eliminate (meaning hide) as much as possible the intentionality and the distortion ‘added’ by its human creator. Even with the neo-positivism, maps have continued to act as tools of a silent spatial knowledge, since their analyses have remained exclusively technical (Harley 2001). Consequently, issues of communication and information were the major interests of