Category: Formal Essays

What is your first instinct upon seeing a blank space? To fill it in. From a young age, we learned to “fill in the blanks”, from coloring books to quizzes. We began to associate blanks with a negative connotation, without even considering whether they were truly absent of material in the first place. Blanks mean incompleteness, and incompleteness means failure. In the same vein, filled spaces — particularly those that were previously blank — are perceived as triumphs and achievements. As we grow up, the blanks transition to new Google Docs and vacant sketchbook pages, empty minds and absent zeros. And in our world of “more is better” and “time is money”, there is no opportunity to stop and appreciate the beauty of blanks. Blanks are part of our everyday lives, shaping the way we perceive the world, think, and act. In Maps of the Imagination: The Writer as Cartographer, Peter Turchi explores the role of blank spaces in mapmaking and writing. His ideas can be applied to the map, United States and Territories, from Trexler Library’s Ray R. Brennen Map Collection. Analysis of the spaces on this map, blank, crowded, and absent, reveals that it is a representation of man’s desire to fill in blank spaces on paper and conquer land on earth. 

United States and Territories is a sprawling portrayal of nineteenth century America, a product of Manifest Destiny. The map, from the “New Topographical Atlas of the State of Pennsylvania; with Descriptions Historical, Scientific and Statistical”, was created by Henry Francis Walling in 1872. In order to understand the context and progress highlighted in the map, a trip back in time is in store. The earliest explorers chanced upon the eastern coast of the New World, hence most European colonization occurred there. From the boggy wetlands of Jamestown to the rickety cobblestone streets of Philadelphia, colonists established the first substantial land claims and hubs. This heavy initial settlement is clearly evidenced by the abundance of solid lanes, dashed lines, and dots (representing roads, railroads, and cities), as well as lack of blank space, in the eastern part of the continent. A westward roam of the eye reveals a travel through time and space. As great urban centers became overcrowded, cropland scarce, and immigrants overflowing, colonists sought to spread westward for more land. Throughout the 1800’s, America became fixated upon the idea of stretching from “sea to shining sea”. Coined Manifest Destiny, the concept reflected Americans’ beliefs in their God-given right to expand to the Pacific and claim the entire continent as America. The Oregon Trail, a treacherous route from Missouri to Oregon, provided a means of migration westward. As might be expected, but little acknowledged, conflicts occurred with Native Americans as white settlers encroached upon and stole their land. By the second half of the century, the advancement made in the name of Manifest Destiny was documented in United States and Territories. The left side of the map was partially filled in with lines, dots, and labels. Above Texas resided an area called Indian Territory, where Native American tribes were forced to relocate to as the end destination of the Trail of Tears. The particularly striking part of the map is the stark contrast between the density of symbols in the eastern and western portions of the country.

This contrast emphasizes the significance of space in United States and Territories and the nation it depicts, for they are the results of the instinctual human desire to fill blank spaces. To best understand how a map was made, one must first explore why. Considering history, the west and midwest would originally have been portrayed as a blank canvas. In the words of Turchi, “to be confronted with nothing in a carefully prepared context makes us newly aware of our assumptions and expectations” (51). What, then, were the assumptions and expectations of Americans given a carefully prepared empty map? The assumption that the land was unoccupied to begin with, and the expectation that providence was on their side. Such thinking screams of arrogance and privilege, and yet it was these very values that drove Manifest Destiny, an idea poised as nationalism masquerading as thinly veiled superiority. Settlers allowed themselves to craft a narrative and mindset in which they were intrepid and heroic, pioneers that set out to make their own fortunes and build their own place in the New World. In fact, Manifest Destiny was little more than an excuse used to justify man’s natural reaction to blank spaces: an irresistible beckoning to our basest desire to claim and our unquenchable thirst for more. 

 But all this begs the question: are blank spaces even truly blank, or do we choose to see them that way? Turchi states that “we can inspect the white for evidence of blemish or texture or we might imagine defacing it, or filling it in, and in that act of imagining see it as tabula rasa, the blank slate of opportunity” (50). Essentially, we ponder what already exists, or we subject it to our own desires. Either way, this interpretation implies that there is actually no such thing as blank spaces, only how we as humans choose to manipulate the existing. Manipulation suggests a lack of respect and appreciation for the original and natural, and an inclination towards the hunger for power as a creator and maker. After all, a blank slate means a chance to start over, and opportunity equals a chance for success. The temptation is too great for the vices of man, and so we almost always choose to see blank spaces as tabula rasa, as exemplified by two main ways in United States and Territories. Firstly, instead of following the natural features of the landscape, boxy borders were artificially established for western states in order to, frankly, make our lives easier. It is interesting to note that borders are not naturally meaningful phenomena, but only exist as a result of the will of humans. Secondly, Native Americans were the true first settlers of America, yet European settlers disregarded their presence and demeaned their claim to the land. The fact that belief in Manifest Destiny and in North America as a blank slate existed when Native Americans and their ancestors had lived on the land for millenia attests to humans’ greed.

United States and Territories is an excellent study of blank spaces and what they reveal about the nature of mankind. Supported by the ideas of Peter Turchi in Maps of the Imagination: The Writer as Cartographer, we can see the entitlement of man in the Manifest Destiny that led to the production of this map. The European settlers of then chose to see a blank slate of opportunity where there existed entire tribes, so the maps of today show an America with little to no Native American populations, and a western coast just as populated as the eastern coast. These filled spaces were built on the backs of thievery and conflict. A simple history lesson teaches us that “blank” spaces are best left blank, but as we know, human nature is difficult to change.

Works Referenced

Turchi, Peter. Maps of the Imagination: the Writer As Cartographer. Trinity University Press, 2007. Walling, Henry Francis. United States and Territories. Map. Edition. Philadelphia: Stedman, Brown & Lyon, 1872.

What is your first instinct upon seeing a blank space? To fill it in. From a young age, we learned to “fill in the blanks”, from coloring books to quizzes. We began to associate blanks with a negative connotation, without even considering whether they were truly absent of material in the first place. Blanks mean incompleteness, and incompleteness means failure. In the same vein, filled spaces — particularly those that were previously blank — are perceived as triumphs and achievements. As we grow up, the blanks transition to new Google Docs and vacant sketchbook pages, empty minds and absent zeros. And in our world of more is better and time is money, there is no opportunity to stop and appreciate the beauty of blanks. Blanks are part of our everyday lives, shaping the way we perceive the world, think, and act. In Maps of the Imagination: The Writer as Cartographer, Peter Turchi explores the role of blank spaces in mapmaking and writing. His ideas can be applied to the map, United States and Territories, from Trexler Library’s Ray R. Brennen Map Collection. Analysis of the spaces on this map, blank, crowded, and absent, reveals that it is a representation of man’s desire to fill in blank spaces on paper and conquer land on earth. 

United States and Territories is a sprawling portrayal of nineteenth century America, a product of Manifest Destiny. The map, from the “New Topographical Atlas of the State of Pennsylvania; with Descriptions Historical, Scientific and Statistical”, was created by Henry Francis Walling in 1872. In order to understand the context and progress highlighted in the map, a trip back in time is in store. The earliest explorers chanced upon the eastern coast of the New World, hence most European colonization occurred there. From the boggy wetlands of Jamestown to the rickety cobblestone streets of Philadelphia, colonists established the first substantial land claims and hubs. This heavy initial settlement is clearly evidenced by the abundance of dotted lines and dots (representing railroads and cities), as well as lack of blank space, in the eastern part of the continent. A westward roam of the eye reveals a travel through time and space. As great urban centers became overcrowded, cropland scarce, and immigrants overflowing, colonists sought to spread westward for moore land. Throughout the 1800’s, America became fixated upon the idea of stretching from “sea to shining sea”. Coined Manifest Destiny, the concept reflected Americans’ beliefs in their God-given right to expand to the Pacific and claim the entire continent as America. The Oregon Trail, a treacherous route from Missouri to Oregon, provided a means of migration westward. As might be expected, but little acknowledged, conflicts occurred with Native Americans as white settlers encroached upon and stole their land. By the second half of the century, the advancement made in the name of Manifest Destiny was documented in United States and Territories. The left side of the map was partially filled in with lines, dots, and labels. Above Texas resided an area called Indian Territory, where Native American tribes were forced to relocate to as the end destination of the Trail of Tears. The particularly striking part of the map is the stark contrast between the density of symbols in the eastern and western portions of the country.

This contrast emphasizes the significance of space in United States and Territories and the nation it depicts, for they are the results of the instinctual human desire to fill blank spaces. To best understand how a map was made, one must first explore why. Considering history, the west and midwest would originally have been portrayed as a blank canvas. In the words of Turchi, “to be confronted with nothing in a carefully prepared context makes us newly aware of our assumptions and expectations” (51). What, then, were the assumptions and expectations of Americans given a carefully prepared empty map? The assumption that the land was unoccupied to begin with, and the expectation that providence was on their side. Such thinking screams of arrogance and privilege, and yet it was these very values that drove Manifest Destiny, an idea poised as nationalism masquerading as thinly veiled superiority. Settlers allowed themselves to craft a narrative and mindset in which they were intrepid and heroic, pioneers that set out to make their own fortunes and build their own place in the New World. In fact, Manifest Destiny was little more than an excuse used to justify man’s natural reaction to blank spaces: an irresistible beckoning to our basest desire to claim and our unquenchable thirst for more. 

United States and Territories is an excellent study of blank spaces and what they reveal about the nature of mankind. Supported by the ideas of Peter Turchi in Maps of the Imagination: The Writer as Cartographer, we can see the entitlement of man in the Manifest Destiny that led to the production of this map. A simple history lesson teaches us that “blank” spaces are best left blank, but as we know, human nature is difficult to change.

For the final wrap on Formal Paper 1, I met up with Owen to review my essay and Dr. Albert’s comments. Based on the comments and suggestions, we were able to restructure my entire essay to defend my claim more effectively.

First and foremost, I was gratified to have my thesis called “fantastic”. I revisited the thesis multiple times, so it’s good to know that these rewrites were worth it. After all, the thesis is one of the most important parts of a paper, which sets up the foundation for the rest.

The body is where “more depth” could have been seen. Upon taking a step back and looking at my essay from a wider perspective, I saw that my first two body paragraphs had good content, but they were all abstract ideas. In fact, I was supporting Harley’s overall claim (from the prompt) with some of his smaller claims, instead of providing concrete evidence. Not until the last body paragraph did I truly start “making [my] own case” with the Evans map. Here’s the solution that Owen helped me come up with: instead of having the first two abstract paragraphs stand alone, I could write my next draft with the Evans map as the underlying framework of the paper. That is, I could analyze how all my ideas apply to the Evans map: the control of knowledge by the elite (governors in America, the monarchy in Britain), the political exploitation of maps (meddling by both sides for personal gain before publication), and the legitimization of land boundaries (colonial boundaries for America, expanded colonial territories/claims for Britain). Essentially, I would be taking my last body paragraph, which had the most developed ideas, and apply it to the entire piece.

Finally, we also worked on shortening my quotations, which I realized they were still quite long after cutting down on them before. It is so true that “[the] reader wanted to hear your words; not Harley’s!” Sometimes, I noticed that I actually provided analysis that discussed almost the same exact thing that I quoted from Harley, so it was easy to cut those parts out.

Overall, I feel that a next draft of Formal Essay 1 could be improved and polished with the Dr. Albert’s comments and Owen’s suggestions. 

When we think of maps, our minds leap to Google Maps, MapQuest, travel brochures, atlases, encyclopedias, textbooks, museums: collections of images we unquestioningly trust to display a faultless portrayal of the world. Little do we realize that this perspective is warped by the carefully-molded lens of the mapmaker, and the powerful entities behind them. As visual representations influenced by intention, belief, and medium, how can we expect maps to be objective? John Brian Harley states in chapter 2, “Maps, Knowledge, and Power”, of his essay compilation The New Nature of Maps, that “in any iconological study it is only through context that meaning and influence can properly be unraveled. Such contexts may be defined as the circumstances in which maps were made and used… Such details can tell us not only about the motives behind cartographic events but also what effect maps may have had and the significance of the information they communicate in human terms” (56). The context of a map matters more than we ever realize, from its purpose to historical background. We not only need to consider where a map can take us, but who, what, when, where, and why it came from. Considering their significant influence on society at large, Harley argues that maps are not scientific communications that can be taken at face value, but representations of a mapmaker’s message that have the potential to change history. 

In their basest essence, maps are knowledge. But it is crucial to differentiate between knowledge and fact, for knowledge has the capacity to be warped, spread, and concealed. This leads us to consider the age-old adage: knowledge is power. It makes sense that “storage of authoritative resources involves above all the retention and control of information or knowledge” (Harley 55). The creation and selective sharing or withholding of maps is essentially the control of knowledge. This perspective is a lot more meaningful when we note that “knowledge [of mapmaking] was concentrated in relatively few hands and maps were associated with the religious elite…intellectual elite…and with the mercantile elite” (Harley 56). By acknowledging that mapmaking has historically been a privilege limited to the elite, we realize it is but an extension of the will of the powers in control. This gives the mapmaker, and particularly the people that commissioned them, substantial power over the education, views, and beliefs of map readers, especially if they are ignorant or impressionable. We begin to see the vast potential of maps to act as an arm of political power, to influence peoples of entire nations and beyond. As vessels of knowledge — that fickle, malleable abstraction — it is inherently impossible for maps to be completely value-free.

Unsurprisingly, ruling classes throughout history have exploited this rich potential of maps. Maps have political, religious, and propaganda applications. They establish and validate land and political boundaries, carry out religious intentions by erasing some and elevating others, and spread specific ideas. Maps have been used to carry out the aims of leaders, which range anywhere from putting down rebellions to ethnic cleansing. When lofty intentions receive a means of actualization, this lethal cocktail results in the blood-spattered pages of history: wars, conquests, and more. After all, why deplete the treasury stocking up on munitions when the intellect of cartographers and ambition of conquerors can achieve the same end goal? When wars are fought over landmarks and national boundaries, maps become formidable weapons with which the ruling class seeks to assert their agenda. As Harley notes on page 56, “even a cursory inspection of the history of mapping will reveal the extent to which political, religious, or social power produce the context of cartography.” He goes on to present evidence from throughout history: “This has become clear, for example, from a detailed study of cartography and prehistoric, ancient and medieval Europe, and the Mediterranean. Throughout the period, ‘mapmaking was one of the specialized intellectual weapons by which power could be gained, administered, given legitimacy, and codified’”. From the earliest civilizations, no matter the time or space, the ruling class has discovered and applied the power of maps. In other words, maps have been weaponized by man for their ability to manipulate power, to tangibly facilitate man’s deepest desires to claim and control. 

A map that exemplifies cartography’s potential in the political ring is A General Map of the Middle British Colonies by Lewis Evans. Around the late eighteenth century, when this map was created, British maps dominated the Western world. However, Martin Brückner reveals the bias behind these maps in his book The Social Life of Maps in America, 1750-1860: “Guild politics, government tariffs, and, above all, the vicissitudes of a patronage system that stretched from royalty to interested individuals defined the formative years in the material biography of European com-mercial maps” (Bruckner 28). Bruckner exposes the sets of power relations behind them, essentially guaranteeing that conflicting biases and agendas were present. While Evans was able to create the map solely in America, he could not entirely escape political influence when “official sponsorship and partisan patronage quickly moved Evans and his yet-unfinished map into the dual arena of imperial politics and the marketplace” (Bruckner 32). At home, military and civilian authorities looked to legitimize colonial boundaries, while abroad, the monarchy sought to expand imperialist land claims. While Evans’s initial intentions may have been scientific and objective, the context and implications of such a map resulted in power plays and political meddling on an international stage. At the end of the day,  A General Map of the Middle British Colonies legitimized British land claims and promoted colonial unity, killing two birds with one stone. This map reinforces the idea that there is something about seeing a display on paper that legitimizes, in a way that abstract ideas cannot. 

Overall, Harley argues that maps are not neutral sources when considering the context — political, social, economic, and historical — behind them. After all, maps are graphical depictions, representations, images — works that all have artists. The mapmaker as artist is biased, just like any other human being, considering different messages and mediums. This property of maps has been exploited by the elite for propaganda and imperialism throughout history, and will continue to be so as long as common citizens blindly trust them. Maps are so much more than we realize: predictors of empire, records of history, and weapons in the advancement of civilization.