It’s not secret that I love maps. When I first started creating art, I did an art show entirely of maps and proudly included the word “cartographer” in my bio. Previously, I shared a post about one of my favorite maps of all time, Pauline Baynes map of Middle Earth.
Today I want to share, rapid-fire, a few maps that inspire me. In no particular order…
Marble Madness
When Marble Madness showed up in arcades in the 80’s, it was an immediate hit. There was nothing else like it. First, the only controller was a track ball for each player. Second, it featured head-to-head competitive play. The game’s distinctive look and soundtrack made it stand out. Playing Marble Madness felt different from playing other games, and the level design was a big part of it.
The levels of Marble Madness
I look at the levels of Marble Madness as a map. They incorporate common design elements that appear throughout the series, but each level also has a distinct color scheme and feel. Many of the most interested map elements contribute directly to game play, including a choice of routes where faster routes can be taken, but are more challenging to navigate. Some elements are purely visual, and are perfectly executed. The game space has a Escher-like quality, but still feels concrete and real. In fact, the designer credited Escher as an influence.
The ESA Mars Topographical Map
At a 1:200,000 scale, even the smallest features on the ESA Mars Topographical Map are still huge in relation to a human. This makes me a bit sad, because what I love about this map is that looking at it, you can easily imagine yourself in this place. When I look at this, I can’t help but wonder, where would it be easiest to walk? Where would the settlements be? What are the strategic points? Where to the creatures that live here hunt and hide?
Geology is fascinating, and one of the most fascinating things about it is that it can be radically different from planet to planet. Mars, like every planet, has novel geographical features and minerals not found anywhere on Earth. There are minerals that are only found in meteorites. There are even minerals that were a matter of pure speculation before being found in meteorite fragments. Land forms like sand dunes, glaciers, and mountains may look startlingly different on different worlds because the conditions that formed them are subtly different. Even rivers, which we take for granted, would flow differently on a world without the soil and roots that are common on Earth.
And don’t even get me started on the breathing nitrogen deserts of Pluto.
This map helps bring home how much Mars is a mix of familiar-feeling terrain, and how much would look totally different to an Earth Human.
Scott C’s Spaceship
I used to own a Tshirt of this drawing, and I wish I had a print of it. Scott C’s art rocks. Scott C’s art is very simply executed, using very simple, uncomplicated brush strokes and blobs of color. But it’s not simple to execute. As an artist who values simple lines, I have huge admiration for Scott C’s work, and this space ship is one of my favorites.
Rocket House by Scott C
Dark and magical places
I’ve been reading Dark and Magical Places by Christopher Kemp. It’s a fascinating delve into the brain science of how we navigate. It turns out to be a complicated story. There are parts of the brain that select for particular places, parts that navigate by the compass, an area for navigating from a brid’s-eye view, and a different one for following a rote set of directions. There are even sets of cells that fire only when you arrive somewhere… only to not see what you expected!
Dark and Magical Places (https://www.amazon.com/Dark-Magical-Places-Neuroscience-Navigation/dp/1324005386)
When I was a child, I used to look at the cracks on the ceiling and imagine I was looking at a terrain. I imagined quests across that wasteland, battles over the ridgelines, and towns and cities among the divots. Perhaps there’s a part of the brain that’s particularly attuned to this activity as well.
I love maps too! I also imagined terrain on the ceiling. That reminds me: On the ceiling of my 2nd-grade classroom, in a patch of fallen plaster, was a silhouette of--I'm not making this up--Fred Flintstone. Obviously, something akin to the mysterious Face on Mars...