Multaka-Oxford: Creating Opportunities

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Six people from the Multaka-Oxford team sitting around a table discussing astronomical instruments. In front of them are two astrolabes of different sizes, and a globe sitting in a brass mount.

Thabo, Nuha, Tammam, Rachel, Rana and Abdullah from the Multaka-Oxford team looking at objects from our collections.

We are excited to let you know more about Multaka-Oxford, our new project funded by the Esmée Fairbairn Collections Fund. It will be running until September 2019. The project will create volunteer opportunities for forced migrants and use museums and collections as a ‘meeting point’ to bring people together.

We are jointly delivering Multaka-Oxford with the Pitt Rivers Museum, and with local community organisations, grass-roots groups and individual people. It focuses on two collections at the museums: our Islamic astronomical instruments, and a recent acquisition of textiles from the Middle East at the Pitt Rivers.

Our project is inspired by ‘Multaka: Museums as a meeting point’, based in Berlin. This project trained volunteers to create Arabic tours across four museums in the city. Multaka is Arabic for “meeting point”. The aim of the Oxford and Berlin projects is to create places where people can meet and share their experience, knowledge and skills. Through this, we will improve understanding and engagement with the collections, whilst also supporting people to build confidence, gain work experience and support community integration.

Rana Ibraim, Silke Ackermann and Rachel Harrison sitting at a table. Behind them is a large replica astrolabe that has been attached to the wall.

Rana Ibraim, Silke Ackermann (Director of the Museum of the History of Science) and Rachel Harrison.

The Multaka-Oxford team are Nicola Bird (Project Manager), Rachel Harrison (Community Engagement and Volunteer Officer), Rana Ibrahim (Museum of the History of Science Collections Officer) and Abigael Flack (Pitt Rivers Collections Officer).

Our First Volunteers

Already we have 9 volunteers signed up and giving their time generously to the project.

Photograph of Silke Ackermann, Tammam and Abdullah looking at a replica astrolabe. They are pointing to different areas of the astronomical instrument, which has been dismantled.

Silke, Tammam and Abdullah looking at a replica astrolabe.

Why did they join Multaka-Oxford?

“I want to volunteer to practice in my career. I want to help in exciting things and in a nice environment. Do something useful”

“[I want to volunteer] to regain confidence and self-worth by helping to make a difference, give something back, I will gain and develop new and existing skills and knowledge”

“generally the project is important in bringing confidence to refugees and asylum seekers, encouraging them to engage in cultural activities, it helps newcomers integrate into British society, a chance to learn more about my home country.”

The volunteers have lots of knowledge, inspiration and ideas that connect with our collections. We are looking forward to sharing this knowledge widely.

Everyone has brought a new skill to the project. Tammam Aboukerech has taken lots of the project photographs. Tammam is a photographer and he will be helping us to visually document the project. Gihan – a talented designer – will help us to create our project logo and identity.

You can discover more about Multaka-Oxford on our Tumblr page, or by following the hashtag #multakaoxford on Twitter.

Stories Etched on Objects

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Flo, a member of Young Producers, with an astrolabe by Hasan `Ali (Inv. 49861) kept in the Museum’s collection.

Flo, a member of Young Producers, discusses how we can discover the history of objects by examining their surface. 

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From Time-Turners in Harry Potter to Alethiometers in His Dark Materials, clever instruments with complex markings and shiny surfaces are great centre-pieces to stories of adventure and intrigue. I like to think that JK Rowling and Philip Pullman came to the Museum of the History of Science and were inspired by the astrolabes in the collection. And what better way to start this post than by talking about stories? I’ve chosen to talk about one particular astrolabe which has nearly eight hundred years of stories etched on its surface.

The remaining backplate of the astrolabe.

Just the backplate remains of the astrolabe (Inv. 49861) I am holding above (also pictured left). It was made in Egypt around 1282 AD. The object has an inscription saying it was made by Hasan ‘Ali in Cairo.

Astrolabes have many functions, but in short they are an instrument for solving problems relating to the positioning of the sun, moon and stars. An animation detailing the parts of an astrolabe and how it can be used to tell the time can be found on the Museum’s website.

Looking at the remaining backplate we can see that one side – the back – has various grids and inscriptions which give information to help with calculations. These calculations would use information gained by observations, which would be made using parts that are now missing. In addition to the scales on this plate, there are two tables, one is titled ‘Know the degree of the sun’ and the other is a table of Coptic Months.

A close-up of the two tables on the backplate.

However, this was much more than an ingenious scientific instrument. Each astrolabe in the Museum was almost certainly someone’s treasured possession. They were made of expensive materials and the scientific precision and artistry that went into their design and construction can’t have been cheap either. They are also, of course, beautiful. Our astrolabe is prominently signed and dated – Hasan ‘Ali wanted to be remembered as the artist.

Although only the backplate survives, the evidence is clear – this astrolabe was used extensively when it had all its parts. If you look closely, you can see the circular scrape and scratch marks where years of turning the outer parts have left their mark.

Without anything overlaying it, the backplate can’t be used for observations, and even the tables and grids inscribed on the back are just information that might as well have been written in a book. However, our astrolabe seems to have been kept and loved even when it was completely useless. Why?

Names of the zodiac houses can be seen inscribed between the almucantar lines.

When all of the other parts were lost – whether by accident or by deliberate removal – someone kept the backplate and continued to inscribe their appreciation and respect for this object into its surface. On very close inspection, it can be seen that Arabic script is scratched between the two outermost concentric circles at the centre of the backplate. These circles are almucantar lines, showing the position of the observer’s horizon at different altitudes, above which the stars are visible. The script is clearly scratched on by hand, and translates as the zodiac. This is not a useful position for the zodiac – typically it would have been inscribed around the rete, showing the (apparent) path of the sun’s movement across the sky over a year. Why would the owner need this after the other parts of the astrolabe were gone? Was it just a reminder so that it could be referred to? Or was there some other function which is now lost?

A close-up of the delicate, coin-sized fish attached to the astrolabe.

A close-up of the delicate, coin-sized fish attached to the astrolabe.

The edge of the backplate has holes that might originally have helped attach other parts. At some point, two of these holes have been used to attach delicate, coin-sized fish, made of a material that you wouldn’t normally find on an astrolabe: silver. Why are they there? Who knows? They are in line with the west and south markers that originally helped in observations (the cardinal points are the opposite way around to what we are used to today) – perhaps that has some relevance, or maybe it’s a coincidence. The northern fish rotates while the other is fixed – again, coincidental or intentional? We don’t know. Maybe they represent the zodiac symbol for Pisces – two fish, often attached with a line, though sometimes not. However, it is difficult to see any reason why Pisces alone should be represented here. Maybe – since people are people, even 800 years ago – the owner just liked fish.

The astrolabe can only give us glimpses of its probably rich and varied life – In a way the object poses more questions than it answers. Who owned it? Was it passed from hand to hand? How did it end up with the collector that eventually donated it to the Museum? We don’t know the answers to any of these questions. But I quite like that, don’t you? What is a story, after all, without mystery?

Astrolabes, iPhones and Fakery

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Tom with the genuine article, an astrolabe made by Abd al A’imma. Inv. 48701

Tom, from the Museum’s Young Producers group, talks about astrolabes and the craftsman Abd al A’imma.  

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It is easy to forget the past.

This is perhaps most true of technology. We have no reason to think about it, but every day we do something utterly radical. We reach for a smartphone, and we’ve harnessed the power to combine communication with unbounded access to knowledge.

Our devices do lots besides connecting us. On mine I have one of several free apps that lets me point it at the sky and find the names and positions of whatever stars and planets I’m facing. If you install something similar, in seconds you’ll have in your pocket a tool far better than anything owned by your stargazing predecessors in Persia.

The Age of the Astrolabe

With such information so easily to hand, one could be forgiven for forgetting about the age before computers: the age of the astrolabe. In fact, there’s already a superb article about the parallels between these two handheld devices [1].

One need only look at any of the astrolabes here at the Museum to know that their value extends far beyond their function. The finery and creativity of their decoration says more than words could about the astrolabes’ other purpose: status symbols.

The rete of an 18th century astrolabe made by Abd al A’imma. Inv. 48701

A modern analogy could be an expensive wristwatch. It seems the basic idea is the same today as it was in eighteenth-century Isfahan, even though they didn’t actually have wristwatches.

Everyone needs to tell the time, but if you have the means, you may be tempted to tell it with something flashy. In Persia (and in Europe amid the Scientific Revolution) people also needed to predict sunsets and sunrises, chart the stars, and measure latitude. An astrolabe could do it all and more.

Despite newer and better instruments, its versatility and portability maintained it as the must-have motif for an era when science was in vogue.

Naturally some astrolabes were nicer than others. The ultimate state of the art was around 1720, just before the fall of the Persian Safavid dynasty, and it involved a craftsman named Abd al A’imma. His skill as one of history’s finest astrolabe-makers is evident in his work held at the Museum. Other museums have pieces bearing his name, and some of them are wonderful for quite a different reason: they’re fake.

The umm of an astrolabe, engraved with a gazetteer. Inv. 48701

Fakery and Brand Names

Their existence confirms al A’imma’s prowess not just as a craftsman, but as a brand name. They reveal themselves in much the same way as would a fake Rolex or a knockoff Gucci bag. The details are off; the fit and finish aren’t up to standard – there are even misspelled engravings, an artefact of the Persian forgers’ poor grasp of Arabic [2].

Perhaps we should take a cynical view of all this. Materialism and fakery are as old as can be. Amazing technologies are doomed to start out as an art practised by experts, then become an exclusive pursuit, then end up as a commodity. Even precise timekeeping, once the domain of astronomers, has long become a forgettable feature of our ubiquitous smartphones.

We can think better. Why might something be imitated? The obvious answer is that it has a value deeper than the sum of its materials. And when that value is associated with something so scientific, so insightful, so ingenious as an astrolabe, surely we owe our respect to the culture that made it worth faking. The Abd al A’imma forgeries, by existing, demonstrate a reverence for science, and a desire to practise it.

Astrolabe plate by by Abd al-A’imma marked as a tablet of horizons. Inv. 48701

Does the same desire exist today? Our answers depend on individual belief, yet many of our most pressing global issues depend desperately on a collective belief that scientists and experts must be listened to, and trusted. Maybe this culture existed more in 1720 than it did today, which would mean the advancement of time does not guarantee the advancement of thinking.

So when we take a moment to consider the phoney astrolabe, the fake Rolex, or the 5G Samsung, we remember the history of science that connects them – science which, just like them, exists for a reason.

[1] Jane Louise Kandur, Astrolabe: the 13th Century iPhone, Daily Sabah, 2015.

[2] Gingerich, King, and Saliba, The Abd al A’imma Astrolabe Forgeries, Journal for the History of Astronomy, vol 3, pp. 188-198, 1972.

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Tom Franklyn Gammage is a science writer for the upcoming film ‘My Flatmates and Me’, a documentary about modern “flat-earth” belief. He also writes for Macat International to promote the teaching of critical thinking in schools. He has been involved with the Young Producers group since May 2017.