Science and art along with the corresponding intellectual property laws have shared a “historic kinship.” Finding the protection of science and art critical to the success and stability of the nation, the Founding Fathers granted Congress with the power “[t]o promote the progress of science and useful arts, by securing for limited times to authors and inventors the exclusive right to their respective writings and discoveries”. (U.S. Const. art. I, § 8, cl. 8). With the enactment of both copyright and patent laws under this constitutional authority, Congress has sought to address the “difficult balance between the interests of authors and inventors in the control and exploitation of the writings and discoveries on the one hand, and society’s competing interest in the free flow of ideas, information, and commerce on the other hand.” (Sony, 464 U.S. at 429).

Vermeer’s The Astronomer exquisitely represents this unique relationship between art/science and copyright/patent law. Depicting a scientist deep in thought, the painting is a tribute to the scientific discoveries of seventeenth-century Holland as well as to one man’s artistic genius. Despite this historic kinship however, legal scholars and practitioners have long debated the precise boundaries between these two legal frameworks, especially concerning the differences regarding subject matter and scope of rights protected. As a bridge between science and art, Vermeer’s The Astronomer illustrates the somewhat elusive boundary between these two different legal approaches for preserving and encouraging the creation of intellectual property. While the painting itself precedes modern copyright and patent law, the principles supporting these legal frameworks reach back centuries as they address how humanity thinks and creates.

Vermeer & The Astronomer

Johannes Vermeer (1632-1675) was one of the principal Dutch genre painters of the seventeenth century. While many of his paintings have reached iconic status in both the public and scholarly communities, many important details of Vermeer’s own life are not well known. (Wheelock 1995, 1). Vermeer’s oeuvre, an estimated 43-60 paintings, is replete with “eternalization[s] of seemingly inconsequential moments” of daily life in seventeenth-century Delft. (Franits). However, in the hands of Vermeer, the scenes “take on almost metaphysical significance.” (Wheelock 1995, 6). Vermeer’s paintings convey meaning and moral gravity by emphasizing the psychological impact of light, color, and perspective. (Wheelock 1997, 5).

Like a scientist, Vermeer carefully measured the spatial relationships and planned the precise proportions within his paintings, achieving a certain sense of serenity and balance. Some scholars have proposed that Vermeer may have used a camera obscura to execute his works in such a manner. (Franits). A camera obscura is a darkened chamber with a small hall in one of the walls. As light passes through this hole, it is projected upon a back wall, displaying an inverted and reversed image of whatever is outside the box. Some scholars argue that such a device assisted Vermeer in composing his works by collapsing three dimensions into two via the projection on a screen. (Steadman 2005, 308). Vermeer may have then traced or studied the projected images to determine the shapes and negative spaces between objects. (Steadman 2005, 308). Disputing such a theory, other scholars have cited an absence of any evidence that Vermeer even owned a camera obscura and instead have argued that Vermeer used certain artistic techniques to calculate such proportions and spatial relationships. (Liedtke 2000, 247).

In addition to technique, The Astronomer reflects the artist’s scientific interest and the recent scientific achievements of his native country. Signed and dated 1668, The Astronomer depicts a man engrossed in a scientific investigation, searching for answers to questions relating to this world and the heavens. Sitting at a desk and wearing a loosely fitting blue robe, the man’s attention is toward a large celestial globe displaying the constellations of the Great Bear, Hercules, and Lyra. The specific globe shown in the painting was published by Jodocus Hondius in 1618. (Wheelock 1997, 56).

On the table, along with the globe is an astrolabe, a pair of dividers, and several books. The open book has been identified as Adriaen Metius’ volume on astronomy and geography, opened to the first pages of the chapter “On the Investigation or Observation of the Stars.” (Welu 1986, 263). Metius wrote this book for both the professional and the amateur as a guide for using certain instruments to study astronomy, in this specific case the astrolabe, which also appears in the painting. The particular text on the opened page discusses the origins of astronomy: “The first observers and investigators of the situation and course of the stars have been, as history points out, our ancestors the patriarchs who through inspiration from God the Lord and the knowledge of geometry and assistance of mathematical instruments have measured and described for us the firmament and the course of the stars.” (Welu 1986, 266). The connections between the astrolabe, the globe, and this particular section of Metius’ book reveal Vermeer’s “calculated approach to the selection and arrangement of objects in his paintings.” (Welu 1986, 265-266).

Vermeer’s The Astronomer, along with The Geographer, is a tribute to the intellectual curiosity of the seventeenth-century Dutch Age of Discovery as “visible incarnation[s] of thought.” (Littlejohn 1996, 268). The painting portrays two different types of seventeenth-century knowledge: the old and the new. The painting on the wall behind the astronomer depicts the finding of Moses, whom the Dutch associated with navigation with his floating down the Nile as an infant in a basket or leading his people through the Red Sea. (Liedtke 2008, 150). One scholar has identified the astronomer as Anthony van Leeuwenhoek, a Delft amateur scientist, who was known for not only his invention of a microscope but also his interest in navigation and astronomy. (Wheelock 2004, 106-108). However, not all art historians agree with this identification, as one scholar emphasized that the painting does not resemble other portraits of van Leeuwenhoek. (Liedtke 2000, 262).