A selection of pages from an 18th-century demonology book made up of more than 30 exquisite watercolours showing various demon figures, as well as magic and cabbalistic signs.
The full Latin title of Compendium rarissimum totius Artis Magicae sistematisatae per celeberrimos Artis hujus Magistros, roughly translates to “A rare summary of the entire Magical Art by the most famous Masters of this Art”.
With a title page adorned with skeletons and the warning of Noli me tangere (Do not touch me), one quickly gets a sense of the dark oddities lurking inside its pages.
The bulk of the illustrations depict a varied bestiary of grotesque demonic creatures up to all sorts of appropriately demonic activities, such as chewing down on severed legs, spitting fire and snakes from genitalia, and parading around decapitated heads on sticks.
In addition there seem also to be pictures relating to necromancy, the act of communicating with the dead in order to gain information about, and possibly control, the future.
Written in German and Latin the book has been dated to around 1775, although it seems the unknown author tried to pass it off as an older relic, mentioning the year 1057 in the title page.
Soviet soldiers raising the red flag over the Reichstag, May 1945.
Photograph by Yevgeny Khaldei: The David King Collection at Tate
There is an unforgettable photograph of a Soviet soldier raising the red flag over the Reichstag near the end of this momentous exhibition.
The soldier crouches at a terrifying angle to hang his victorious banner above burned-out Berlin in May 1945.
It is a famous shot – the figure high among the parapets beneath a thunderous sky – and known to have been staged, like the marines hoisting the flag at Iwo Jima.
But in this context, one sees it completely new.
The photographer was Jewish. His father and sisters had been murdered by the Nazis.
His uncle made the flag by hand, the hammer and sickle glowing an immaculate white almost at the epicentre of this dark image.
And what has inspired Yevgeny Khaldei is not just the possibility of raising the figure high among the parapets, a worker on the same level as the imperial statues, but the dynamic geometries of Russian abstract art.
His scene is all triangles and heroic diagonals, harking back to El Lissitzky and Malevich.
“Horses can be hilarious!” says German photographer Wiebke Haas.
“It’s my greatest passion to tease out nearly human expressions from them.” She has turned this passion into a delightful series called Horsestyle (shortlisted for a 2018 Sony World Photography award) featuring stallion Pauli with his lovely Elvis lip-curl, and Linus with a big, bouncy mane to rival Farrah Fawcett’s.
Haas grew up around animals, which perhaps explains why her horses look so at ease. “The most difficult part was to keep them straight to the camera,” she says. Her secret? Horse goodies and the occasional “tickle in the ear”.
Wiebke Haas: ‘Young stallion Pauli is a clown. It was more difficult to illuminate his black coat in front of the black background. I needed the flash lights on full power.’
‘Linus is a heartbreaker with his blond mane and tale. He was so relaxed in the studio and did his job patiently and like a professional model.’
Mainz, from the Nuremberg Chronicle (1493). JRL R1786.
Mainz is situated at the meeting point of the rivers Rhine and Main, and in the Middle Ages was among the wealthiest cities in the Rhine valley.
In a period when road networks were poor and in some areas non-existent, rivers provided safer and easier links between cities; the Rhine was a primary trade route through Europe.
Mainz became the seat of the archbishop, who played a key religious and political role in the region. A prosperous court grew up around the archbishopric, attracting merchants and craftsmen to the city.
The goldsmiths’ guild was of particular importance, with wealthy local cloth merchants their principal clients.
Johann Gutenberg was born in Mainz around 1399.
Little is known of Gutenberg’s father but he was a tradesman or merchant, possibly involved in the cloth trade, and his son grew up surrounded by both craft and commerce.
However, the potentially life-threatening political disputes at court drove the family away from the city.
After working in other local towns and cities, Johann Gutenberg returned to Mainz in 1448 to experiment with his new printing business, a venture that was to have such an impact on many aspects of life and thinking in our World.
Bremen: Ernsting, 1791 Engraved broadside. Graphic Arts Collection.
A panoramic view of the city of Bremen tops this journeyman’s certificate.
It is inscribed for twenty-five year old Johann Hingstmann (born 1773), who has completed his twelve year apprenticeship to reach the level of journeyman.
Hingstmann now has the right to charge a fee for his own work.
To reach the highest level of master craftsman, he will have to submit an example of his work to a particular guild for evaluation and hopefully, be admitted to the guild as a master.
The certificate is engraved by Daniel Albert (Albrecht) Ernsting (1749-1820), who was himself an apprentice to a Bremen printer. Ernsting then studied in Göttingen and Copenhagen before returning to Bremen and opening a shop.
His name is found engraved on portraits, business cards, playing cards, and of course certificates.