The Rats of the Black Death
In his 1350 poem "On the Judgment of the Sun at a Feast of Saturn" the Belgian astronomer Simon de Covino attributed the black death to the motions of heavenly bodies. A conjunction of Saturn and Jupiter was to blame, apparently. Lacking the insights of modern science, there were many competing theories to explain the pestilence: air currents, divine retribution, animals. And, of course, foreigners. Some 2000 Jews were burnt alive on Valentines day in 1349, in Strasbourg, where the plague had yet to arrive.
Cats, which medieval Christians associated with the Devil, were exterminated en mass. There’s a popular narrative that the plague was incubated in rats and transmitted to humans via fleas. According to this theory, this ‘preventative’ measure in fact exacerbated the situation by eliminating the rats’ main predator. The truth, though, is likely more complicated — some epidemiological modelling suggests that human lice and fleas were more likely culprits as the dominant vehicle for plague transmission. Scholars disagree over the nuances of mathematical epidemiological modelling. Hundreds of years have passed since the black death exterminated more than half of Europe’s population — some 50 million people — and still the detailed mechanisms of the pestilence remain obscure.
We’ve learned to parameterize our ignorance, not to eliminate it.
Glancing at my social media feed these days there are people passing about inconsistent statistics, inconsistent public health policies, conspiracy theories. The message “calm down, it’s no big deal” alternates with “let’s all freak out, it’s the end of days” at an alarming rate. And, of course, there is no shortage of people blaming foreigners. News outlets are sharing graphs generated by mathematical modelling of the outbreak, various disease trajectories, projected death tolls, possible futures. These are the same epidemiological models that, even to this day, remain inconclusive with regards to the role of rats in the black death. Uncertainties are quantified, not eliminated. This is progress.
In this composition the rat is perched precariously upon the bones of the dead, lifeless. Baby rats litter the base of the arrangement, threatening to tumble off the table and into the darkness beyond. For each baby mouse I placed a single withered rose. Posies might have been more fitting, given the themes, but one must make do with what’s was available during quarantine.
The rat might be ascending the bone, threatening to contaminate the fruit, or he might be in the process of sliding backwards, on his own descent into the darkness beyond the frame.
The ambiguity is intentional here. But it’s also irrelevant.
The fruit is already spoiled.
There’s a Buddhist story about a man being chased by a tiger. The beast chases our hero to the edge of a cliff where he grabs onto a vine and, dangling over the edge of the precipice, he spots another tiger at the bottom of the ravine, waiting for him. He looks back up and sees that a mouse has crept onto the vine above him, and is beginning to gnaw at it. Just then, he notices a wild strawberry bush growing out of the side of the cliff. He reaches out, picks a berry, and eats it.
My friends, I hope that you’re all well in these uncertain times, while the world seems perpetually in the process of unmaking itself. I’m on quarantine; I imagine that most of you are in the same position. Childcare options have disappeared so I will be with my kid 24/7 and will have very little time for making art. I hope to keep up with these weekly mailings, but I might have to miss one here and there. The Last Supper book will end up getting put on hold for a while; I initially was hoping for an Easter release date but that’s definitely going to be implausible given the COVID-19 situation. Further updates as events warrant.
In the meantime: be safe, stay healthy, take care of your loved ones. And pause, for a moment, to enjoy the image, the play of light, the textures of flesh and fruit and flower. As the quote goes: All flesh is grass and all its glory is like the flower of grass. The grass withers. The flower falls.
Enjoy the picture. Read a book. Call someone you love.
Taste the berry on the vine; the flesh is sweet and it spoils so quickly.