Scanning artifacts, as others have noted, is an efficient way to
illustrate in a hurry, with more than satisfactory results.
A little experimentation with backgrounds will help; the scanner lid
may not be the best surface to shoot against. I've found that a piece
of black material helps distinguish light-colored artifacts from the
grey background my scanner produces from its lid.
Digital imaging might give us a new take on cataloguing procedures
and report production. In the past, imaging and cataloguing have been
separated by the photographic processing step. The image was produced
in a camera, on film that had to be processed, while the description
and catalogue data would be produced on paper or in the computer. The
two would then be reunited somewhere and somewhen, preferably by some
anal-retentive cataloguer type who enjoyed putting together bits and
pieces of unrelated data.
Now, envision a workstation with a computer, a scanner, and a digital
camera on a tripod over a light box. You take the artifact, describe
it, and "image" it, all in one operation. If you don't like the
picture, you can re-take it. Then you paste the picture into the
description text, and there it is.
The product might be an entry in an electronic catalogue or it might
be a "card" for a traditional catalogue. Either way, it is instant
and complete in one operation. You need to handle, and think about,
the artifact only once.
Now, let's take this idea one step farther. Traditionally we have
produced our reports with "plates" and "figures" in which each
artifact is treated in three different, possibly widely separated
places. This frustrating and clumsy arrangement, still followed by
entirely too many journals, is an unnecessary inconvenience left over
from ancient printing practices.
As an old printer, maybe I can shed some light on the subject. Let's
look at the traditional letterpress method of producing scholarly
texts:
First there was the picture (referred to as a "plate") sometimes
printed on glossy paper. Then there was the caption to the plate,
which might be some distance away. Then, buried in the text, was a
discussion of the artifact. This dispersed arrangement was made
necessary by letterpress printing methods.
In the old days of letterpress printing, fine illustrations were
printed on "gravure" presses, using special processes and slick
paper. Not infrequently, the plates were printed in a different plant
from the text printing. To save money, photo-engraved plates were
produced with artifacts all bunched together. This is where we get
the term "plate" for photographic images. Again, to save money, the
plates were full-page, and captions frequently were printed on
separate, cheaper, letterpress pages.
Line drawings, called "cuts," were also photo engraved, but they were
printed on the same press that produced the text, so they were called
"figures" in editorial jargon. But, again, it was cheaper and more
convenient to make the "cuts" full page.
The body text of the report was set, sometimes by hand and sometimes
by machine, as "straight matter," from movable type or machine-made
slugs. In either case, it was difficult to wrap text around straight
matter, so the printers preferred whole pages of cuts and whole pages
of text. All the text could therefore be set "full measure" and not
altered in the imposition process that produced the book's pagination.
Today, some pedants insist on separate plates and figures, and
discourage illustrations in text. I have had reports rejected by the
SHPO because I numbered the "figures" and "plates" together. Some
journals still segregate the photographs at the back of the book but
put the line drawings with the text.
These artificial separations no longer have any justification in
mechanical practice, but they continue to bedevil us. Professors, at
this very moment, are telling their students to follow the old
arrangement, no matter how nonsensical it may be in today's
technology.
Desktop publishing allows us to integrate all kinds of illustrations,
wrap text around pictures, and control the appearance of every page,
as we write. So why should we group artifact illustrations in
separate pages? Why not wrap the description and discussion around
the illustration of the artifact? We no longer have a technological
imperative to arrange our reports in clumsy blocks of plates, figures
and text, but we continue to do so.
In our shop, the separate text and illustrations are a thing of the
past. We can take that unified description with picture and slap it
into the text wherever it makes sense. We can weave discussion and
illustration together in a coherent, journalistic, product without
the scholarly paraphrenalia that makes so many reports so opaque.
Typographic freedom has given us another ability to communicate more
effectively. Back in the old days, big blocks of tabular matter were
segregated at the appendices, where they were cumbersome and largely
ignored except by the most intrepid readers. Today, we don't do
appendices in our reports. We can reformat our tabular materials
into blocks that can be inserted in the text, using the "frame"
function of Microsoft Word. So you can see the tabular data and the
text without having to break your train of thought.
Cumbersome artifacts from the old days of letterpress printing are no
longer an uncomfortable necessity, but I'm sure a few twits in
authority will continue to insist that they are "necessary" for
something or another.
--
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A sure sign you're over the hill is when you catch yourself referring
to your "dress" Birkenstocks!
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