A review by greeniezona
Chrysalis: Maria Sibylla Merian and the Secrets of Metamorphosis, by Kim Todd
5.0
Years ago, I bought a copy of this book for my insect-obsessed sister, then promptly forgot all about it. Then, recently, I heard about Maria Sibylla Merian again and decided i needed to know more about her. I ended up rediscovering this book and putting it on my library hold list. It's actually part of what inspired my new Women in Science phase -- after that I looked up several other biographies of female scientists and added them to my to-read list as well.
Merian's topic was metamorphosis, at a time when spontaneous generation was just starting to be disproven. In fact, Merian's work contributed to the refutations in a significant way. She was interested in metamorphosis in general, but in caterpillars in particular. Her medium was watercolor. (At a time when she was actually barred from painting in oils by artists guilds because she was a woman.) She raised hundreds of caterpillars, hoping to watch and document their transformations. Friends brought and sent her caterpillars. She sought permission to explore nearby gardens in the hopes of finding new caterpillars. She kept careful notes of dates, observations, sketches. And then she published. Books of watercolors with caterpillar/pupa/moth or butterfly on the same page. Perhaps more importantly, on their host plant. At first, she represents this work lightly -- telling stories designed to amuse of she and her friends in their fine dresses on country strolls, scrambling after insects. Suggesting her watercolors be used as inspirational patterns for embroidery. But she must have taken her work more seriously as time went on, because at the turn of the 18th century, she and her daughter sailed to Surinam to document metamorphosis there, quite possibly the first cross-Atlantic expedition for purely scientific reasons.
I could go on and on and on, but I'm going to try to rein it in. Things I want to particularly note: Merian was a contemporary of Leeuwenhoek! I think right now I am in love with turn of the 18th century Amsterdam. The hobbyist scientists. The salons full of new ideas. The crazy collections of artifacts and the birth of museums. Also, a chapter in the end about her enduring influence discusses how her work was held to some higher standard: she was dismissed entirely for decades because she was wrong about a few things, despite the significance of her gaffes being largely in line with those of her contemporaries. (Always my favorite example: Leeuwenhoek was sure that the entire germ for a new being came from the sperm. The egg was just a house to be filled.)
Also, I need to acknowledge that the author admits a dearth of primary sources about Merian's inner world. Very well recorded is what she saw, what she painted. But very little record remains of what she felt. About anything, ever. Todd is pretty transparent about this, and I thought she did an admirable job of both filling in the blanks and also directly stating what she is basing these speculations on as she makes them.
Recommended to those interested in insects, women in science and/or art, ecology, or turn of the 18th century worldviews.
Merian's topic was metamorphosis, at a time when spontaneous generation was just starting to be disproven. In fact, Merian's work contributed to the refutations in a significant way. She was interested in metamorphosis in general, but in caterpillars in particular. Her medium was watercolor. (At a time when she was actually barred from painting in oils by artists guilds because she was a woman.) She raised hundreds of caterpillars, hoping to watch and document their transformations. Friends brought and sent her caterpillars. She sought permission to explore nearby gardens in the hopes of finding new caterpillars. She kept careful notes of dates, observations, sketches. And then she published. Books of watercolors with caterpillar/pupa/moth or butterfly on the same page. Perhaps more importantly, on their host plant. At first, she represents this work lightly -- telling stories designed to amuse of she and her friends in their fine dresses on country strolls, scrambling after insects. Suggesting her watercolors be used as inspirational patterns for embroidery. But she must have taken her work more seriously as time went on, because at the turn of the 18th century, she and her daughter sailed to Surinam to document metamorphosis there, quite possibly the first cross-Atlantic expedition for purely scientific reasons.
I could go on and on and on, but I'm going to try to rein it in. Things I want to particularly note: Merian was a contemporary of Leeuwenhoek! I think right now I am in love with turn of the 18th century Amsterdam. The hobbyist scientists. The salons full of new ideas. The crazy collections of artifacts and the birth of museums. Also, a chapter in the end about her enduring influence discusses how her work was held to some higher standard: she was dismissed entirely for decades because she was wrong about a few things, despite the significance of her gaffes being largely in line with those of her contemporaries. (Always my favorite example: Leeuwenhoek was sure that the entire germ for a new being came from the sperm. The egg was just a house to be filled.)
Also, I need to acknowledge that the author admits a dearth of primary sources about Merian's inner world. Very well recorded is what she saw, what she painted. But very little record remains of what she felt. About anything, ever. Todd is pretty transparent about this, and I thought she did an admirable job of both filling in the blanks and also directly stating what she is basing these speculations on as she makes them.
Recommended to those interested in insects, women in science and/or art, ecology, or turn of the 18th century worldviews.