Historical European Martial Arts are, obviously, based upon the notion that people are able to reenact specific behaviors otherwise lost to modern knowledge through the use of primary historical documents. Certainly nothing earth-shattering in that statement. HEMA is a very specific branch of the overall study of history in which people try to put together the past based upon whatever primary sources, even if only fragments, remain. Again, nothing being said here everyone doesn’t already know.
We are lucky in that many of the sources of our HEMA reenactment comes from manuals and treatises specifically written for the fighting moves we’re trying to put back together. We should note, of course, that not all sources are as clear-cut; prior to MS I.33 there are no known extant sources, so people wanting to reconstruct the fighting of these earlier eras need to delve into illustrations from other written sources – such as histories or Bibles of the same time period – poems, and often the statues from churches or tomb effigies.
Just a quick note on my wording here: I make a distinction between what folks who study a given Fechtbuch or two do and the folks who go further back before any known manuals or treatises existed. For people who study manuals I refer to that as “reenacting” because we’re taking what we read or what we see in an illustration and trying to make work in the real world, whereas what the early-focused people do I refer to as “recreating” because they really are trying to create something out of nothing, or very little. Just a little semantic detail but I wanted to point it out so we’re all on the same page.
OK, so why am I giving a primer on the basics of historical research and what most of us already know about how HEMA knowledge develops? It is because there seems to be a terribly nonchalant and dismissive attitude towards the very helpful, though occasionally confusing, illustrations that accompany so many manuals. This is a problem.
I think there is often an immediate bias against the illustrations we see in the manuals. We modern folk are accustomed to having information spoon fed to us. We’ve come to expect that illustrations showing how to do a specific move clearly show the starting position, then a quarter of the move, halfway through, three-quarters way through, and then the final position. This is the way a modern manual for, say, how to swing at a baseball would be made, and it is the way modern interpretations of the original manuals are typically illustrated.
But this is not at all the way the historical manuals are illustrated. There was clearly a different mindset then, which might easily have simply been due to the time and expense of having each picture hand drawn. We need to remember we’re lucky to have digital photography that can easily show every small detail of a move, but hand-drawing dozens of pictures took time and huge effort.
Whatever the reason, the lack of consecutive pictures means the illustrations capture just one moment in the total motion. Often, we are left wondering if we’re seeing the starting move, the middle, or the end. But though these illustrations might not be perfect compared to our modern demands, they allow some increase in our ability to reenact a given move against our opponent. Not using the illustrations make things so much harder.
Also, I think there is also an immediate modern bias against the imperfectly drawn illustrations from the get-go. There are numerous examples of arms drawn entirely too long or thumbs in the wrong position that legitimately makes us raise an eyebrow and snigger at the error. That’s OK, but arrogantly dismissing the illustrations altogether because of these errors is foolish and unfair.
I firmly believe the people making these illustrations were working closely with the Master putting the manual together and were making their very best effort to capture things accurately. While it might not be accurate to refer to these illustrators as “professionals,” I do think it perfectly fair to assume whoever was doing the illustrations had some skills with a pen and paint. Believing all Medieval or Renaissance illustrators were brutish buffoons might lead some modern folks to think they can dispense with the illustrations altogether.
This is extremely problematic because the text of the manuals can often be incomplete, or vague (sometimes intentionally so), or just difficult to ascertain the meaning. The illustrations, though often imperfect from our modern perspective, can certainly help get on the right track and they give a specific metric by which to measure one’s historical reenactment validity.
The bottom line here is that if we are engaging in HEMA -- which is nothing but the living, breathing result of research using primary sources -- then we must trust those sources. If we dispense with our historical data simply because it doesn’t match a modern preconception then we are only doing a vague shadow of HEMA while also dispensing with the very process of all historical research itself.
After all, I hope you wouldn’t try to make a recipe from one of the existing cookbooks from the early 1400s, dispense with some of the ingredients and measurements because you think them inaccurate, and then complain because the dish tastes terrible. If we can't trust the historical sources themselves, in this case the manuals and treatises, then we might as well chuck all of history right out the window.
While we're at it forget about doing HEMA at all, at least in literal terms; if you're not following the information presented in the manuals, if you're making stuff up because you reject what is being given to you, then you are not literally doing HEMA. You might be doing some terrific form of weapons-based fighting based on HEMA, but rejecting the sources -- including the illustrations -- isn't doing HEMA.
Great, so once we’ve wrapped our minds around the utility of the illustrations, how then can we look at them with fresh eyes?
I recommend assuming the illustrations are correct and if a move isn’t working it is because you are doing it wrong. Remember, these treatises were often advertising for the Masters and so they’d be very particular to make sure things were illustrated properly. So, short of things that are physically impossible and obvious errors on the part of the illustrator, assume the illustration is leading you correctly.
Also, don’t assume that just because something looks odd it is an error. MS I.33 is a great example of this. The fighters are illustrated in what looks like an awkward tippy toe manner, and for the longest time, it was assumed this was nothing but a flagrant mistake and dispensed with. There are also several illustrations showing one of the guards in which the hand appears to be backward, and this was also dispensed with. But more recent reenactors have realized that proper MS I.33 footwork is based upon moving on one’s toes rather than flat-footed, and the illustrations were visual hyperbole to get the point across, whereas the hand illustration is correct and useful when taken to its complete move.
Trust in the artwork that has been so carefully prepared for you. Trust it to be true, but also be mindful that mistakes so happen and so a touch of wisdom here is needed as well. Be a historical researcher who gets to live their history, and open yourself up to the more profound knowledge that can be garnered by doing so.
Have you ever had an illustration that vexed you? Have you ever struggled to understand something pictured only to have it all come together eventually? What is the most obvious example of a drawing mistake you've seen?
Stay loose and train hard!
-- Scott
Comments
Post a Comment