A Liberty Print Map of the World
I am wary of making a mistake - when I made my map of the UK several years ago, I unwittingly based it on a map with county boundaries that were a thirty years out of date, as well as making a few of my own errors, which provoked a fury I hadn't been anticipating, and which came as quite a shock. This time, I'm much more mindful of trying to get things right, but the more I've researched, the more I've become aware this is an impossible task: territories are disputed; boundaries and names change constantly (most recently, Macedonia has become North Macedonia; Czech Republic, Czechia); maps alter depending on where you're viewing them from, as Google use your location to show you the version of the world map you're likely to find most palatable; there are thousands and thousands of islands in the oceans and I can't sew every one of them; and I'm not a cartographer, or even someone with a pub quiz-worthy knowledge of basic geography, so will inevitably make mistakes again.
But despite knowing I can't get it right, the compulsion to make a map of the world remains. I was thinking about why we humans are so instinctively drawn to maps and although I can think of lots of reasons, when I was looking through some books of map illustrations recently, I realised what I really love is that each representation is unique, but also instantly recognisable as 'map' or 'world', as though a basic visual imprint of these things rests in our psyche, primed for us to match things up alongside it, giving confirmation that, yes, that's a map; that's the world.
I think it's that same thing that makes me want to replicate London Underground's tube map or iconic buildings - because there's something enjoyable about experimenting with something that will remain instantly recognisable (my friend Ben recently showed me this tube map created from tubes of squirted paint, which I love). And there's something just as enjoyable about that as an onlooker too - for Christmas, my daughter bought me these peas - they're made from wool, crocheted, and have smiley faces - but still we recognise them instantly as peas and there's something delightful in that instant recognition.
(I know people may be desperate for their own peas after seeing mine :) They're made by the lovely Lybo and you can find them here - she also sells the crochet pattern to grow your own - when I mentioned them on Instagram, Lybo told me it caused quite a rush on peas, which may be the loveliest thing I've ever been credited with...although really it should be attributed to my daughter for finding them in the first place).
Anyway, back in Map Land, a few final thoughts:
- I think Laura Mercier just make the best tweezers - the generous thumb and forefinger rest always makes me feel so much more nimble-fingered when tweezing eyebrows or countries into place (fear not: different tweezers for different jobs).