Komt hier nu Kinders reijn /en lees dees Vogels al / Gy hebt met groot en kleyn / hier hondert in 't getal 1719 - 1724

Curator: My eye is immediately drawn to this grid of charming birds. I wonder, did kids pore over this in the 18th century too, trying to name them all? Editor: It is a curious print, indeed. This is "Komt hier nu Kinders reijn /en lees dees Vogels al / Gy hebt met groot en kleyn / hier hondert in 't getal," which translates to “Come here now children pure and read these birds all / You have with large and small here a hundred in total." Curator: Oh, that explains it! A children’s book then? Did you say it's from the early 1700s? How lovely! The whole thing feels so…precise, yet kind of naive. I’m taken by that slightly haphazard color. It’s almost as if someone came along later and said, "let's give them personalities with a splash of pigment". Editor: Yes, this engaging woodcut was printed in Amsterdam between 1719 and 1724 by the widow Gijsbert de Groot. Such prints served an educational role; introducing children to the natural world. Imagine it: a pedagogical tool masquerading as…dare I say it, entertainment. Curator: You know, the slight asymmetry of the squares framing each bird lends this piece such an affable energy! Like it doesn't take itself too seriously. I sense such pleasure for details. And those little texts that each accompany its bird...what are these saying? Editor: The captions name each species, even though many identifications have shifted over time as our understanding of ornithology has deepened. So there's an attempt to classify and control nature through naming—a very Enlightenment preoccupation—alongside a simple joy in observing it. It speaks volumes about the burgeoning scientific thought meeting folksy observation. Curator: Exactly! It has this…gentle confidence about it. “Here,” it says, “look closer. Isn't it all fascinating?". There is also a gentle plea to care for all life on the earth, something our contemporaries should listen too. Editor: Precisely! It's a fascinating intersection of the aesthetic, educational, and the budding scientific. It invites us to reflect on how our understanding and representations of the natural world have evolved—or perhaps remained charmingly consistent—over the centuries. Curator: Makes you wanna dust off your binoculars, right? Get out there. Observe. Try and find new patterns of connection between our natural environments and one another. Editor: Absolutely! The print reminds us that even what appears quaint on the surface can harbor deep insights into how we perceive, classify, and interact with our world.