Volume
3, No. 2
April 1999 |
Michael Walker is a writer, researcher in the arts and life sciences,
poet, and visual artist. In regard to translation and linguistics, his
primary interests are Russian, Spanish, Danish, Chinese, Persian,
Hebrew, and Mongolian texts, as well as the theory and epistemology
behind translation applications. Trained in the fields of biomedicine
and legal policy, Walkers theoretical articles and original research
has been published in a number of scholarly journals, including:
Diagnostic Imaging, Diagnostic Imaging Europe, AirMed, and CATScan. He
serves as the Science Editor of Oasis Magazine and also contributes to a
number of general interest publications. Web design and the
implementation of the Internet in interlinguistic communications are
also a primary focus of Walkers current research and projects.
Michael Walkers e-mail: mikewalker@geocities.com
Home Page: http://www.Geocities.com/Athens/1277/
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Translation for Art and Architectural History Applications
by Michael Walker
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The histories of visual art and architecture are enchanting, sweeping,
realms of study that encompass many diverse disciplines and
methodological approaches while spanning international boarders,
datelines, and entire continents. The study of art and architectural
history also transverses languages, a reality that necessitates that
professional art historians have a working knowledge of several second
languages (to obtain a bachelors degree in art or architectural history,
most institutions require reading fluency in at least two languages
while graduate study often requires proficiency in another two languages
related to the students area of specialization). Although the study of
foreign languages and the use of these languages is highly stressed
within art and architectural history, it is inconceivable that scholars
in this field would not occasionally need to rely on translation
services to provide English (or other language) translations of primary
and secondary source research materials and to even translate complete
monographs, conference proceedings, and other scholarly literature for
further dissemination. This article examines the needs of art and
architectural historians for translation services and the role of the
translator in facilitating the work of these professionals. As art and
architectural history are relatively unknown professions outside of
their scholastic environment (at least as far as their work-related
activities go), it is my hope that this article will enlighten
translators as to how they can better serve and better market themselves
to this interesting niche of academia.
My own interest in art and architecture led me to the study of these
fields in depth, a situation that brought me into contact with art and
architectural historians conducting research on a variety of interesting
areas of visual culture. After taking several courses and spending time
with these people in general, it occurred to me that the interlinguistic
needs of these professionals must be quite dynamic and far-reaching.
Discussion of this matter with several of my professors and other
graduate students within an art history department lead me to a greater
understanding of the unique needs of art and architectural historians
and also illuminated some of the obstacles these scholars face in the
acquisition of knowledge about the visual history of the human-made
world. Unlike biomedical science and law,the professional arenas I
know bestart history often requires delving deep into a reverse
chronology as a quest for information about a certain artist, work of
art, or building. An entire pantheon of characters and a veritable atlas
of places may be opened up by a simple inquiry into the primary sketches
for a painting or the exact date of death for a well-known sculptor.
Primary sources are often consulted no matter how extensively these
documents may been previously translated and re-published, as it is
often best for the historian to work with these documents in their
original form or as close to that as possible. A great many secondary
sources are also needed, and the bulk of theseespecially in the case
of European and ancient artmay be in a language other than English,
most often French, German, or perhaps Italian. Obviously, scholars of
antiquities will need documents in less common languages and the same
can be said of those researchers concerned with regional (or area)
art, such as that of Africa, Asia Minor, and India.
The role of the translator in the midst of all this can be multiform:
facilitating either the outright translation of a document into a
language understood by the scholar involved or perhaps consulting on the
best approach to translating documents (or translating a book or other
monograph) as even when the art scholar is conversant in a language, he
or she may not be well-prepared to write a consummate and easily
understood translation in that language without outside involvement. A
key point to remember about art and architectural history is that
scholarship in this field is multidisciplinary and may involve literary
history, biographical studies, anthropology, archeology, and many other
divisions of the humanities and social sciences. Art history is much
more than simply examining, understanding, and writing about a painting
(and of course, architectural history is more than doing the same for
buildings), and the intricacy of the work of the translator will be
directly influenced by the demands of the work of the historian. The
more astute translators will recognize just how elaborate the whole
process of translating research material is and how different such work
is from, in way of example, translating a product brochure, contract, or
other contemporary commercial text.
This brings us to a key point germane to nearly all translating efforts
involving source materials, especially those predating the current
century: source materials may not be entirely faithful to the language
of their time nor the facts of whatever matter they concern and
describe, but they must be translated as closely to the original text as
possible while providing a readable document for the historian, a
document that if ambiguous, it is ambiguous due to the inherent nature
of the writing, and not due to the translation. While this point applies
to many other areas of translation, it is crucial to art and
architectural historical work and should be the foremost thought in the
minds of those who translate source materials for art historical
research. A comprehensive discussion with the historian(s) involved
should always precede translation work whenever possible so that all
parties can become aware of the ultimate requirements of the project and
how these objectives may be solved or at least furthered by the
translator. Occasionally, the historian will not have a clue towards
what is needed in terms of translation, even in terms of exactly what
documents need to be translated (how would the historian be certain of
this if he/she had not been able to read these documents?) but most
often the historian will be able to provide very precise instructions as
to what he/she requires. Effective translation is so dependent on
effective communication between the translator and the client - enough
said on that!
Documents pertaining to specific works of art (personal letters of
artists, statements from artists and gallery directors) will often
require patience on the part of the translator as many such documents
will seem mundane, perhaps little more than inventory lists or long
descriptions of a painting which the translator may well have never even
seen. Not all art and architectural history focuses on the Picassos and
Le Corbusiers of the world and much of the current scholarship does
involve minor artists and architects who may hold little interest
outside of the world of the specialist or the aficionado. Realizing that
the value of such primary source documents often rests in the most
subtle of details should further the translators ability to find
his/her own interest in these papers. Secondary source materials present
other issues, as these are often scholarly journals written in very
formal, academic, prose (register one rhetoric) in another language.
Translation of such literature demands a knowledge of how art history is
written about, its specific jargon, and its associations with other
fields of study. Looking at art history journals in the language that is
to be translated into can be an excellent way to become familiar with
the stylistic conventions utilized in such writing. Art historians seem
to value concise, lucid, prose as much as scholars in any other
discipline, but they also appear to be somewhat nostalgic (well, they
are historians after all) and if the source material appears to be
overwrought with romantic overtones (something especially common in
certain German and French scholarly publications) then that tone as well
as the underlying mode and information should be translated to the
recipient language as faithfully as possible.
The translation of source materials frequently must be accomplished with
the rapid succession of one document after another, quickly moving
through documents that are of moderate individual length but of
staggering combined quantity. The sheer amount of information which
sometimes needs to be translated begs for a computer-based system of
translation that will allow for text-searching and archiving, saving
both the translator and the scholar a great deal of time and
frustration. Art and architectural historians have not shunned
technology (in fact, several whom I know of are using it in quite
innovative and exciting ways) but the translator may have the sole
responsibility for introducing a computer-based platform, encouraging
its use, and instructing the application of specific software packages.
Again, while most art and architectural scholars have an impressive
command of various languages, these people are not linguists nor
translators by profession and are not used to implementing
technology-based solutions to translation problems. Part of what is
being paid for in hiring a professional translator is the expertise in
overall services and solutions, so it only makes sense to provide the
most useful and efficient of such solutions.
The translation of source material, as noted in the above paragraphs, is
an affair unto itself; the translation of new, complete, monographs and
journal articles being composed in one language into another language
for dissemination is completely another task. Books on specific
paintings, artists, buildings, or genre are often written by scholars
working in the nations where such works/artists/traditions have been
produced or established themselves. For example, academic works on
Russian minimalism may well originate from Russia; this trend seems to
be even more true of architectural scholarship than that of art history.
When such works have international importance, they are most often
translated into either English, French, or German. Most major
monographs eventually end up in an English translation either
accompanied by the original source text or with other multilingual
translations (trilingual translations into English, French, and Spanish
appear to be a growing trend in art historical book publishing in
Europe). The author of the monograph may or may not have a decent
knowledge of the language to which his/her work shall be translated, and
it seems prudent to first ascertain whether the author can be and
desires to be involved in the translation or if this is not possible.
When the participation of the author is prohibited by a lack of
linguistic familiarity or other circumstances, the assistance of another
scholar (often, a student of the author) who is intimately familiar with
the work at hand is frequently useful to the translator. Additionally,
in the case of catalogs for museum/gallery exhibitions and in some
architectural monographs, it is a most common practice to augment the
written commentary of the principle author/editor with that from other
scholars, often in the form of essays, prefaces, and introductions. The
primary essays may be complied and edited by one person while the actual
notes accompanying the pictorial plates may be written by someone else.
If one translator is left to translate all such information, it is
essential to consider the role of the individual voices of the
contributors.
As an example of a complex and superbly successful translation project
grounded in architectural scholarship, I offer the book The Architecture
of New Prague 1895-1945, by Rotislav Svacha (Cambridge, MA: The MIT
Press, 1995). Svacha originally wrote this monograph concerning the
architectural renaissance of Prague in the late nineteenth and early
twentieth centuries in his native Czech and the book was thus published
in the Czech republic. Realizing that this volume was perhaps the most
thorough and well-written book on its subject, plans were made to
release the book on a major academic press imprint as an English
translation. But how would this be accomplished and who would translate
the Czech text into English? The author was not in a position to execute
the translation and another person was chosen to undertake this task:
Alexandra Buchler, a translator of literary and scholarly works fluent
in both English and Czech was selected based her familiarity with the
languages at hand and her ability to mimic Svachas writing style in
English. Svacha is a well-known Czech architect and critic, not only
highly regarded for his scholarship in architectural history but also
for his enchanting prose, so Buchler had no easy task awaiting her.
Additionally, the English edition would contain original essays and
introductions by some of the heavy-weights of architectural history,
including Kenneth Frampton, a scholar and theorist whose comments seem
to turn up in every anthology and text book on architectural history.
These essays would be written in English and therefore Buchlers
translation of Svachas text would need to be both distinct enough to
preserve Svachas unique voice among the writings of the other
commentators while being uniform with the overall feeling of the book.
Czech, as anyone who speaks the language is well aware, is a naturally
lyrical although sometimes disjunctive, rhythmic, language. The written
language utilizes a number of diacritics to express the variety of
intonations and inflections inherent to Czech oral speech. These
diacritics and the tonalities they connote in writing express something
near music within the mute written word; how would this poetry of a
language possibly be translated? Buchler takes a subtle, pragmatic,
approach to her translation work; explaining in her own introductory
comments to the book that it is impossible to directly translate many
vernacular terms of Czech into English and establishing a common thread
between what was originally written by Svacha and what she had to
rewrite in a radically different language. Keep in mind that this book
is a contemporary work by a highly educated man in a prominent Slavic
language, not an ancient manuscript in an obscure tongue nor a neglected
letter that was dashed off to the friend of an artist in some haste.
Buchler had the advantages of working with a consummate manuscript, but
she also had to acknowledge the difficulties of dealing with such an
expansive (over five hundred pages) as well as expressive a document,
and at that, one that had already been published in its original
language. Buchler uses the privilege of her own introduction to prepare
the reader for what to expect from the translated text; this is not
always an option in translating a book, but is something that I believe
every translator should request of the publisher/editor when he or she
feels that such explanation is warranted and can be effective in helping
the reader understand the work at hand. Simply restating that a work is
in fact a translation can be profoundly important as many readers seem
to assume that anything appearing in English was originally written in
English!
Buchler also achieves in this volume a superlative balance between
over-using English substitutes for Czech terms and confounding the
reader with what could have become a plethora of unfamiliar terms.
Architectural historians may be well-read and worldly, but theres
little reason to believe that most readers of a work such as this one
would be very familiar with the majority of the Czech terms that have
come into the argot via folk sayings, jargon, and political propaganda.
The translator of a book such as Svachas must also realize the
significance of photographs, plans, and other illustrations to the text.
These figures are never simply decorative in an architectural work, but
instead convey essential information that cannot be paraphrased into
words in any language. To blend the text with the illustrations that
support it and to recognize when and where the author has referenced an
illustration (not a direct reference, per se, but a textural allusion in
many cases) is the summation of the translators varied work on such a
book project. The translator becomes familiar with not only the authors
way with words, but with his or her way with images, the reasons why
certain images have been included and how those images are meant to
communicate to the reader/viewer. Letting the imagery speak and knowing
when not to talk louder than what these images have to say (and when to
usher in their voices) can make or break the translation of an art
historical or architectural monograph.
Overall, the successful translation of documents for art and
architectural history applications relies on the willingness of the
translator to understand the unique and sometimes labyrinthine nature of
the disciplines at hand. These are people concerned with a past
represented in visual, tangible, works, but also their concern stretches
far into all that is not visible in such works: the letters between
artists, the unseen struggles and triumphs, and often the mundane,
everyday, work that collectively becomes the production of great works
of art that endure and demand study. Realizing the layers involved, the
way that historical research is truly empirical in the sense that it
builds upon previous efforts, should carry the translator a long way
towards preparing valuable translations for scholarship. The translator
who is presented the rare opportunity to translate an entire monograph
should realize that he or she is in the midst of creating something of
lasting aesthetic and informational import, and the project should be
treated in a way that is not only technically accurate in terms of the
representation of jargon and syntax, but also as something that is
resounding in its testament to a given work of art, a particular artist,
or as in the case of Svachas book, a period of architectural progress.
Translators who undertake the mission of understanding art and
architectural history will find that they are guests in a very exciting
and beautiful world.
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