Paula Scher, the first female principal of Pentagram and designer of identities for the Public Theater and Tiffany’s — not to mention hundreds of hit album covers — grew up surrounded by maps.
“Globes have a very low survival rate,” explained Ian Fowler, director of the Osher Map Library (OML) at the University of Southern Maine.
Many of the first European maps of the Americas included warnings of cannibalism, despite no proof of such activity.
This August, activist group Osez le Féminisme (Dare to be Feminist) installed guerrilla signs in Paris to rename streets and parks after women like singer Nina Simone, sailor Florence Arthaud, and author Simone de Beauvoir.
A three-year project from the University of Glasgow’s School of Critical Studies mapped 13 centuries of metaphors in the English language.
You might call Henricus Martellus’s 1491 world map — which many believe Christopher Columbus consulted before setting out on his voyage — a symbol of the limits of human knowledge.
When aviation took off in the early 20th century, safety was still shaky and the public needed some convincing to get them soaring among the clouds in the noisy metal contraptions.
A crucial need in any rescue effort — perhaps just as important to saving lives as medical supplies, food, and tents — is an up-to-date map that humanitarian workers can use to more efficiently navigate the rubble.
The Stanford Literary Lab has plotted quotes from over 700 19th-century authors who mentioned locations in London in order to compose concentrations of dread or happiness.
During the late Renaissance, many gold-thirsty European explorers set sail on a quest to locate the fastest route to the Orient.
Considering how long the earth’s been around, you’d think it would have already been exhaustively charted. But in recent years, mapmaking has exploded.
Two 1970s photography series that chronicled the urban landscapes of New York City are now accessible on interactive maps through the New York Public Library’s ongoing Photo Geographies project.