Introduction

This chapter traces the human pursuit of creating clarity, order, and usefulness in the visual communication of knowledge. We take a historical perspective, tracing the evolution of information design from early forms of visual communication—such as maps, diagrams, and scientific illustrations—to modern frameworks shaped by industrialization, bureaucratic systems, and digital technologies. We also examine how social, political, and technological shifts have influenced the ways information is structured and shared, and how design has played a central role in shaping public understanding, governance, and culture. By exploring these developments, students will gain insight into the foundational ideas and key moments that continue to inform contemporary approaches to the design of information.

Contextualizing the Design of Information

In popular culture, design is most closely associated with style, visual quality, or decoration, and, as an industry or practice, design appears to have a close relationship to art, illustration, and marketing, even when understood through the broadly famous idea that form follows function. The term “design” actually serves multiple functions: Design is both a discipline and a collection of disciplines; design (to design) is an action and a process (for how to design); a design is a plan or sketch for something to be created or constructed at a later date (even when in the mind); and it is a finished artefact (a designed object).

Design’s place as a discipline and a formal area of practice is pretty recent—give or take 200 years—even though human and non-human beings have “designed” for millennia. The 20th and 21st centuries have seen a persistent tension between design as a consumer-driven version of the visual arts and design as a science in the service to the needs of others (see Herbert Simon). European and North American graphic design programs are still predominantly embedded within fine arts faculties while simultaneously serving business marketing objectives.

The design of information follows a different historical path than graphic design, and its academic and professional homes are more varied, while also relying on many of the same foundations for how we create and understand visual communication. When we design information, we manipulate text and images to create or improve clarity, accessibility, usability, and understanding. The best designs of information integrate appealing visual form with useful and usable content

The Ubiquitous Nature of Information Design

Earliest Records

Humans across the globe have made efforts to design information for at least 30,000 years. Some of the earliest examples still remaining have been found in France in the form of the Abri Blanchard bone (ca. 32,000 BCE, currently in the Musée des Antiquités Nationales at Saint-Germain-en-Laye near Paris, France) (Marshack, 1972). Attributed to the Aurignacian Culture (associated with early modern humans/Cro-Magnons in Europe), the Blanchard bone is considered to be the oldest indication of the use of symbolic notation to represent a lunar calendar. Cave paintings are also considered a form of information design, with several notable examples: the lions and rhinos of Chauvet Cave in southeastern France (ca. 30,000 BCE) (Clottes, 2003); mammoth-ivory figurines found in Germany (ca. 30,000 BCE) and, more recently discovered and the oldest-known (ca. 39,900 BCE), hand stencils and animals from Leang Timpuseng cave in Indonesia (Aubert et al., 2014). Though cave paintings appear to mark the beginning of a rapid evolution in human communication systems, it is important to remember that what we know about material-based communication is based on remaining and rediscovered paintings, carvings, and made objects—physical records that are by their very nature sensitive to the passage of time.

Alphabets and Typography

Oracle bone script (ca. 1200 BCE onward) was used during the Shang Dynasty in China to represent one of the earliest known forms of recorded information using a systematic, visual-linguistic approach (Keightley, 2000). Chinese calligraphy and later printed texts (especially during the Song and Ming dynasties) emphasized layout, hierarchy, and symbolic representation—essential components of information design. In fact, there is a close relationship between the design of information and typography since the vast majority of informational objects contain text—maps, books, diagrams, signs, and instructions, just to mention a few.

Before the first alphabet was invented, writing systems used pictographic symbols known as hieroglyphics—these were painted, carved, stamped, or pressed into clay. Their use required significant training and was limited to a small group of priests and scribes. Sometime between 1850 and 1700 BCE, a group of Semitic-speaking people adapted Egyptian hieroglyphics to represent the sounds of their language (Goldwasser, 2006). The resulting script is often considered the first alphabetic writing system where unique symbols stand for single consonants (no vowels). This consonantal alphabet—also known as an abjad—consisted of 22 symbols that were simple enough for traders to learn and draw, enabling the alphabet’s spread by Phoenician maritime merchants who occupied part of modern Lebanon, Syria and Israel.

The Greeks refined and enhanced this first alphabet in the 8th century BCE, adding letters to represent vowels (Powell, 1991). Some scholars consider the result to be the first “true” alphabet since it made reading and pronunciation easier and with less ambiguity (Powell, 1989). By the 5th century BCE, the reading direction had changed and settled into the boustrophedon pattern you are experiencing while reading this text—literally, turning like oxen. The Greek alphabet gave rise to several others: Latin and Cyrillic (precursor of the modern Russian alphabet).

Because of its relatively long evolution—its letterforms were never designed as a functional set—the Latin alphabet is known to pose challenges when setting text. Certain letterform pairings fit well against one another while others appear too tight or too widely spaced (for example, VW, AW, ff, ft). Typographers and type designers use their skills to make text easier to read with fewer errors. In contrast, Hangeul, the Korean alphabet, is a designed object commissioned by King Sejong during the Chosun Dynasty (1393-1897 CE). Hunmin chong-um (its original name) was proclaimed in 1446; the name means “the correct sounds for the instruction of the people” (zKorean, n.d., para. 2). The Korean alphabet has garnered praise from language experts for its efficiency and scientific design.

Accurate alphabets and effective typography are crucial to the representation and maintenance of language. Early writing systems for Indigenous languages were predominantly based on syllabic systems, having been primarily developed by missionary settlers and anthropologists (for example, those developed by missionaries for Inuktitut and Cree) (Burnaby, 1987). Little to no consultation took place with Indigenous communities, and a “good enough” attitude dominated.

The 20th and 21st centuries have seen significant development in the typographic representation of Indigenous languages of North America, with Indigenous groups developing characters that could fully represent the breadth of their language sound systems. This is important work since typefaces developed for the Latin alphabet contain restrictions and result in errors when attempting to display Indigenous languages. Lack of digital representations, of the kinds that exist for Russian and Chinese, for example, continues to marginalize Indigenous languages and limits the sharing and adoption of educational materials.

Communicating Data and Organizing Information

We tend to think of statistical charts, diagrams, graphs, and data visualization as modern inventions. However, graphic representation of quantitative information has a long history closely connected to map-making and illustrative depictions of the natural world. Developments in technologies, growth in mathematical and scientific understanding, and innovations in visual communication influenced one another’s development while expanding knowledge distribution. In other words, we knew more, so we figured out how to communicate that knowledge more effectively and efficiently to a greater number of people. These efforts—to record, organize, and communicate information—have taken many forms. For example, the Haudenosaunee peoples used Wampum belts (e.g., the Hiawatha Belt) as mnemonic devices and records of treaties, laws, and events (Mann, 2000). Quipus (kee-poo; sometimes called talking knots) were used in the Inka Empire to encode quantitative and possibly narrative data using spatial arrangement, colour, and knot types—an advanced tactile information system without written language (ca. 1400—1532 CE) (Urton, 2003). There are numerous examples of culturally specific forms of information design based on oral tradition, memory, and relational thinking. In the Americas, Anishinaabe and Cree communities used petroglyphs, birchbark scrolls, and symbolic mapping to convey spiritual, territorial, and instructional knowledge through visual means. Think back to Chapter 2 on the oral tradition.

Certain areas of study not only contributed related scientific knowledge, but also the ways through which that knowledge could be explained. For example, the first known graphical representations of stars came from ancient Chinese astronomy in the form of the Dunhuang star chart (China, 618-907) (Whitfield, 2004), while the first abstract graph from De latitudinibus formarum by Nicole Oresme (France, ca. 1350) (Clagett, 1968). De Humani Corporis Fabrica (Andreas Vesalius, 1543) set a new standard for scientific illustration, influencing not just medicine but also botany, zoology, and later anatomical atlases and marked an early moment where form and content were consciously designed to support comprehension and accuracy—central goals of modern information design (Kusukawa, 2012). Vesalius’s work also helped establish the use of sequential diagrams, cross-sections, and layered visuals–all staples of contemporary technical communication. Adinkra and Nsibidi (Ghana and Nigeria), Adinkra symbols (Ashanti), and Nsibidi scripts (Ejagham and related groups) are West African graphic systems used to encode philosophical, social, and legal concepts (Sarpong, 1971; Jeffreys, 1946). They combine aesthetics with structured meaning, often woven into textiles or carved into surfaces, significantly predating the International picture language (Isotype) developed in 1933 by Marie and Otto Neurath.

It is important to consider the visual communication of knowledge both in terms of singular graphical and/or typographic objects (lists, charts, timelines, illustrations, etc.) and as purposeful collections of these objects. Manuscripts are a good place to start, first taking the form of papyrus scrolls and tablets and, later, bound books that predate the printing revolution brought forth by Johannes Gutenberg’s printing press (1455), as discussed in Chapter 3. Though they are typically attributed to medieval Europe, manuscripts were created by many cultures across the globe. The Book of the Dead (Egypt, 1275 BCE) is the earliest illustrated manuscript that combines words and pictures to explain funerary rituals—a manual to the afterlife (Faulkner and Andrews, 1985). Buddhist texts from ancient Gandhāra (modern northern Pakistan and eastern Afghanistan) are some of the oldest known manuscripts originating in South Asia (between the 1st c. BCE and 3rd c. CE) (Salomon, 1999). The Dresden Codex (Mexico, ca. 1100) is the oldest and best preserved of the Mayan manuscripts, consisting of 39 leaves (aka, pages) inscribed on both sides and depicts hieroglyphs, numerals, and figures expressing ritual and divination calendars; calculations of the phases of Venus; depictions of lunar and solar eclipses; instructions for new-year ceremonies; and descriptions of the locations of the Rain God (Thompson, 1972).

There are also many incredible examples of medieval manuscripts, the Liber Floridus by Lambert, Canon of Saint-Omer (Belgium, ca. 1121) is the oldest to have survived with an attributed author. This illustrated encyclopedia contains Biblical, chronological, astronomical, geographical, cartographic, theological, philosophical, and natural history compiled from 192 different works. Another notable example is the Cosmography (England, ca. 1190): a compilation of early medieval texts intended as a scientific textbook for monks. Looking to the Middle East and Africa, Islamic scholars developed complex visual systems for astronomy, medicine, and geometry, creating manuscripts that integrated calligraphy, geometric patterning, and annotated diagrams to convey multilayered information (8th–15th c.) (Savage-Smith, 1985). During the Japanese Edo Period (Japan, 17th–19th c.), woodblock prints, such as ezu (illustrated maps) and nishiki-e (coloured prints), visualized cities, historical events, or product information in accessible, richly detailed formats. These served both educational and commercial purposes, blending visual clarity with aesthetic tradition (Traganou, 2004).

These examples demonstrate a universal human desire to capture and distribute knowledge using whatever materials and techniques are available to them, whether that’s stone, clay, papyrus, birchbark, wall, parchment, or wood. Specific topics appear to have received nearly universal attention: the movement and position of the planets and their impact on human affairs; religious doctrines and instructions for a “good life” (or afterlife); and calendars, particularly as relating to food production cycles and celebrations. As new materials and technologies emerged, so did the amount and complexity of the information being shared. We are fascinated with the world around us and our desire for comprehensive knowledge—information that is collected, categorised, and controlled––pre-dates the earliest records of debt (Sumerian civilization, c. 3500 BCE) (Schmandt-Besserat, 1992), to encyclopedias (earliest known is Pliny the Elder’s Naturalis Historia, 77-79 CE) (Healy, 1999), through to the internet. Not only do we want knowledge, we desire a sense of completeness or mastery over one or all subjects: these are all of the plants (the Cotton MS Vitellius C III, earliest surviving illustrated plant encyclopedias, c. 1000 CE) (Hunt, 1989); here’s all we know about the human body (earliest example is the Nineveh Medical Encyclopaedia, ancient Assyria, c. 7th c. BCE) (Kinnier Wilson, 1956); and all we know about sex (Jawāmiʿ al-ladhdha, earliest known encyclopedia of sex, 10th century CE) (Rosenthal, 1975).

While physical encyclopedias are less common today, they once represented a significant investment in knowledge acquisition (not to mention affluence, when placed in middle-class living rooms).

Mapping

Communicating information related to location and place also has a long history. Monuments were used to mark points along the Roman road system—the Milliarium Aureum (Italy, 20 BCE), a column of gilded bronze (or marble clad in gilt bronze), for example, was regarded as the point from which all the principal roads of Rome diverged (Talbert, 2010). Roman miles, measuring one thousand paces (millia passuum), were marked by milestones (milliaria) or pillars with inscriptions stating the distance, points between which the road extended, who constructed the road, and the emperor to whom it was dedicated. Much earlier and on a more expansive scale, the Babylonians created what is considered the earliest map of the known world (ca. 550 BCE), marking the beginnings of a far-reaching human practice of creating abstract records for land, sea, and sky (Horowitz, 1998). Ptolemy’s Geographia (Alexandria, ca. 150 CE) followed and is considered a foundational geographic text that includes coordinate-based world maps; it combined cartography with descriptive data (Berggren & Jones, 2000).

Maps provide a sense of order and control to vast and unpredictable spaces. They make it possible for us to “follow in someone else’s footsteps”. One significant example of this comes in the form of handheld maps of Greenland created by an unknown Inuit man as a commission by Danish explorer Gustav Holm (ca. 1880) (Holm, 1888). These maps have the form of carved chunks of wood and served as a tactile map, its toothy edges representing the fjords, headlands, and obstacles of the Greenland coastline.

Maps have also been used to reinforce Eurocentric worldviews in support of colonization, to establish and maintain land claims, and to erase Indigenous cultures and perspectives. As marketing tools, maps were used to communicate a vast emptiness of lands that were, in fact, home to many nations for millennia.

Additionally, maps provide a manageable sense of scale between destinations, tell us where to expect significant changes in landscape, and act as political connectors to locations that aren’t in proximity to one another. They contain imaginary lines meant to express changes in ownership and governance. The Geological Survey of Canada produced some of the most detailed and systematized maps of Canada’s terrain and resources starting in the mid-1800s (Zaslow, 1975). The Canada Land Inventory (CLI) in the 1960s and 70s used thematic mapping and standardized symbology to support land-use planning across provinces, serving as an essential example of how map borders fragment land, places, and communities in stark contradiction to the ways that many Indigenous peoples view territory as defined through deep, generational connections with family, community, and the land.

More recently, decolonized maps have begun to address biases, omissions, and inaccuracies inherent to colonial perspectives. A particularly notable example of this work is Native-Land.ca—a website dedicated to mapping Indigenous lands for territories, treaties, relationships, and languages worldwide. Native-Land, a Canadian not-for-profit organization, has a predominantly Indigenous Board of Directors that brings a profound understanding of Indigenous ways of being and knowing to the mapping project. In addition to the interactive resource, the organization provides educational resources aimed at reshaping how we learn and talk about colonialism and Indigeneity.

Critical to the discussion of maps as informational tools is the understanding that all maps are interpretations and abstractions. Maps are flat representations of a spherical object (our planet) that cannot be portrayed on a 2-dimensional surface without distortion. Different forms of representation create various types of distortion. The Mercator projection, which you’re likely quite familiar with given its use in such services as Google Maps and on high school walls, maintains the shape of land masses and countries while exaggerating the size of areas far from the equator (Snyder, 1993). The map was created in 1569 by Gerardus Mercator, and it revolutionized the way that the Earth was represented graphically. The significant distortions that it creates, however, have led to vastly inaccurate perceptions of global geography. Visually, Canada and Russia take up approximately 25% of the Earth’s landmass. In reality, they occupy a mere 5%. Russia appears significantly larger than Africa, yet the actual difference between the two is only 100 Km. South Asia and South America both appear much smaller than countries further from the equator, and Australia and Indonesia are quite massive when viewed side-by-side with Canada. Some maps are intentionally abstracted and simplified to serve specific functions without any distracting or unnecessary visual elements. The London Underground Map by Harry Beck (UK, 1933) provides us with one such example (Garland, 1994). It is the first transport map to use a schematic visual language rather than conventional geographic features to show a complete transportation system.

At times, maps have been used as powerful tools for social and political change. John Snow’s Cholera Map (London, 1854) is a landmark in spatial epidemiology and public health visualization (Johnson, 2006). Snow used it to display the location of cholera cases with a water pump on Broad Street, resulting in the eventual shutdown of the pump and a greater understanding of how certain illnesses were transmitted.

Information Design in Canada

Canada has a rich history of information design that spans cartography, public health, wayfinding, government communication, Indigenous knowledge systems, and data visualization. While the field or the work is not always labelled “information design”, there are numerous, notable examples of design for information, both historical and contemporary.

But before we look at specific pieces, we must first ask ourselves: what makes a piece of design Canadian? Is “Canadian” a location (made in Canada), an identity (containing iconography associated with Canada, for example, a beaver), a nationality (made by someone with Canadian citizenship), or based on sponsorship or representation (created on behalf of or to represent a Canadian entity)? Is a combination of some or all of these factors required for a design to be considered “Canadian”? How we answer these questions has become particularly significant in 2025 as a result of the 2024 American federal election and subsequent trade war between Canada and the U.S. These events have reinvigorated Canadian identity and sparked nationwide calls to “Buy Canadian”. What it means to do so, however, remains ill-defined. Some retailers, particularly grocery and liquor stores, have begun labelling products that are “Made in Canada”. Certain retailers (the Real Canadian Superstore and Tim Hortons, for example) have launched advertising campaigns based on full or even partial Canadian ownership. Consumers look for products with a higher percentage of Canadian ingredients, materials, and labour, but access to this information hasn’t kept pace with demand.

Another way to consider whether a design is or isn’t Canadian is by viewing it through a values lens. Values are principles and beliefs that influence what someone considers essential. Individuals and communities can hold them and, while quite diverse, often contribute to a particular sense of national identity. American values, for example, center on individualism, freedom, and equality of opportunity. Canadian values, on the other hand, emphasize diversity, safety, peace, and nature. Commitments to these values result in particular –– perhaps uniquely Canadian –– design characteristics:

• communication that is multilingual and multicultural;
• integration of Indigenous knowledge systems;
• information access that is public, useful, and usable;
• decolonized and accessible representations of land and community; and
• focus on social and environmental good.

National Signage and Wayfinding Systems

The first two values––commitment to multilingual communication and access to public information––find expression in designs aimed at supporting travel and wayfinding. A clear, consistent, and multi-functional information system is particularly critical given Canada’s size––it’s approximately 5,514 kilometres (3,426 miles) wide from east to west and a multilingual population. The most extensive Canadian wayfinding system is the Manual of Uniform Traffic Control Devices for Canada (MUTCDC), developed by the Transportation Association of Canada (TAC), which governs highway and road signage. This system has several unique features to accommodate diverse populations, including bilingual signage and a greater reliance on symbols over text. The Parks Canada signage system, for use within Canadian national parks and preserves, serves much of the same purpose as the MUTCDC while also providing visitors with park-specific information. Its iconic beaver logo was designed by Roderick Huggins and Ken Marsh at Guillon Design Inc. in 1973. Stephen Sharkey-Chouinard, initially at Parks Canada and later at Steelie Design, was involved in the design and development of Parks Canada highway signage. At the same time, Kristine Verbeek at K Design Studio created custom illustrations for its “Signature Series” merchandise, which highlight specific features of various parks. Signage design by Burton Kramer for Montreal Expo (or Expo 67) is recognized as Canada’s earliest large-scale modernist wayfinding system. The comprehensive system of pictograms and animal-themed parking signs blends graphic design, architecture, and multilingual communication to serve millions of visitors in navigating pavilions and attractions.

You can find a local example of a wayfinding system committed to decolonization and Indigenous representation at Mount Royal University’s Riddell Library. The Library features signage in both Blackfoot and English. In 2019, Chase Shrader, a 3rd-year student in MRU’s Information Design Major, co-developed a mobile application that uses augmented reality (AR) to translate Blackfoot signage components into English, helping non-Blackfoot speakers understand the meaning behind the words. The app— called DeciphAR — includes an audio pronunciation guide, a video with elder Leo Fox from Red Crow College in Lethbridge, as well as descriptions of the terms.

Public Information and National Identity

Information systems serve a dual purpose. While their primary function is to make information accessible and usable for a particular purpose, their secondary function is to instill a sense of validity and authority by communicating a place of origin. This secondary purpose is quite apparent when looking at national wayfinding systems. When travelling on Canada’s highways you use road signs to tell you where you are and where you’re going; those road signs communicate the information you need, but also communicate the legitimacy of that information by visually displaying (through consistency in fonts, colours, materials, and symbols) the authority of their creator (in this case, the Government of Canada). Without the consistent application of these design choices, you wouldn’t be able to trust that you’re heading in the desired direction. Design and information work together to create proper, reliable communication that, over time, reaffirms a sense of national identity.

Short films created by the National Film Board of Canada (NFB) provide us with numerous examples of the relationship that exists between design and information. The NFB has long experimented with animated and documentary forms of information design that explain social, scientific, and political topics through stylized visual storytelling (for example, Universe, 1960; Illuminated Lives: A Brief History of Women’s Work in the Middle Ages, 1989; Henry Settles in Canada, 1995; or Masturbation: A Short Story of a Great Taboo, 2022) (Pratley, 2003). NFB shorts also help Canadians to know and celebrate the country’s history and embrace its unique values (see one of the most often-requested films in the NFB collection–Log Driver’s Waltz, 1979).

Another critical aspect of Canada’s identity is its commitment to universal, publicly-funded healthcare, demonstrated as information design through early campaigns by Health Canada that used simplified visuals to communicate complex medical or nutritional information to the public. More recently, the Canadian government’s COVID-19 response included widespread use of infographics, multilingual signage, and animated explainer videos. Lastly, Statistics Canada is recognized as a major producer of public information design using charts, graphs, and interactive dashboards to communicate Canadian demographic, economic, and social data.

Summary

The design of information represents a fundamental human drive to organize, communicate, and share knowledge effectively. From the earliest cave paintings and symbolic notations to today’s digital interfaces and data visualizations, humans have consistently sought ways to make complex information accessible and understandable.

Understanding this rich history provides essential context for contemporary information design practice. As we continue to develop new technologies and communication methods, the foundational principles explored in this chapter—the importance of clarity, the need for cultural sensitivity, and the responsibility to serve users’ genuine information needs—remain as relevant as ever. The evolution of information design demonstrates that effective communication is not merely about technological capability but about understanding human needs, cultural contexts, and the ethical implications of how we structure and share knowledge.

Group Activity: What is Canadian?

Look back to definitions of design in the introduction and questions presented at the start of the Information Design in Canada section, consider one of the following five scenarios, asking yourself which, if any, you would consider “Canadian”:

1. An American company hires Canadian designers to create a plan for an artifact that will be manufactured and used on Canadian soil, containing iconography typically associated with Canada.
2. A Canadian develops a unique design process that is then used by designers worldwide. Now, consider your answer if the Canadian in question hasn’t lived in Canada for quite some time. Now, consider your answer if they live in Canada but aren’t a Canadian citizen.
3. A Norwegian company creates a design for use in Canada featuring Canadian iconography that is not manufactured in Canada.
4. The Alberta Government purchases a set of signage templates from a design company based in Brazil, then has its staff customize the templates with information about Alberta.
5. A design is manufactured in Slovakia by a French company using processes developed in Canada and materials mined there.

This activity encourages critical engagement with how we define and situate design. Students will develop structured arguments, discuss, and reflect on design’s role in society.

Discuss one scenario with an effort to answer the question: Would you consider the design “Canadian”?

1. Team 1 discusses Scenario 1
2. Team 2 discusses Scenario 2
3. Team 3 discusses Scenario 3
4. Team 4 discusses Scenario 4
5. Team 5 discusses Scenario 5

Present the following to the class:
a. Your group’s answer to the question
b. The factors you considered when discussing your scenario
c. The basis upon which you base your answer––briefly outline your rationale

Individual Activity: Design for Information News Scan

Purpose:
This activity helps you connect the historical and cultural evolution of how humans organize and communicate knowledge to current developments. You will examine how recent examples of the design of information—from maps and data visualizations to signage systems and digital interfaces—reflect principles of clarity, accessibility, cultural representation, and social equity.

Instructions:
Using Google News, find a recent article (published within the last three months) about the design of information—for example, structuring complex data, creating systems for wayfinding, developing typographic solutions for accessibility, or decolonizing public information tools.

In 250 words, respond to the following:

1. Summarize the Article (100–150 words)

• Provide the article’s title, author, and date in APA format.
• Explain the article’s main focus and why it matters.
• Identify any findings, innovations, or arguments presented.

2. Connect to Chapter Themes (100–150 words)

• Relate the article to at least one key theme from Chapter 7 (e.g., clarity and usability, cultural values in how information is structured, decolonized mapping, universal access, or the distinction between graphic design and design of information).
• Analyze how the article illustrates continuity or change compared to historical approaches to designing information, such as cave paintings, Wampum belts, manuscripts, or mapping innovations.
• Cite your sources (both the article and this chapter) in APA format.

Note: The full text of the article must be included upon submission as an Appendix for verification.

References

Aubert, M., Brumm, A., Ramli, M., Sutikna, T., Saptomo, E. W., Hakim, B., … & Dosseto, A. (2014). Pleistocene cave art from Sulawesi, Indonesia. Nature, 514(7521), 223-227.

Berggren, J. L., & Jones, A. (2000). Ptolemy’s Geography: An annotated translation of the theoretical chapters. Princeton University Press.

Burnaby, B. (Ed.). (1985). Promoting Native writing systems in Canada. Toronto, Canada: Ontario Institute for Studies in Education.

Clagett, M. (1968). Nicole Oresme and the medieval geometry of qualities and motions. University of Wisconsin Press.

Clottes, J. (2003). Chauvet Cave: The art of earliest times. University of Utah Press.

Faulkner, R. O., & Andrews, C. (1985). The ancient Egyptian book of the dead. Published for the Trustees of the British Museum by British Museum Publications.

Garland, K. (1994). Mr Beck’s Underground Map. Capital Transport.

Goldwasser, O. (2006). Canaanites reading hieroglyphs: Horus is Hathor? The invention of the alphabet in Sinai. Ägypten und Levante, 16, 121-160.

Healy, J. F. (1999). Pliny the Elder on science and technology. Oxford University Press.

Holm, G. (1888). Den Østgrønlandske Expedition. Bianco Lunos Bogtrykkeri.

Horowitz, W. (1998). Mesopotamian cosmic geography. Eisenbrauns.

Hunt, T. (1989). Plant lore of the Middle Ages: The Herbarium of Pseudo-Apuleius. Studio Editions.

Jeffreys, M. D. W. (1946). Nsibidi signs. Africa, 16(1), 26-29.

Johnson, S. (2006). The ghost map: The story of London’s most terrifying epidemic and how it changed science, cities, and the modern world. Riverhead Books.

Keightley, D. N. (2000). The ancestral landscape: Time, space, and community in late Shang China (ca. 1200-1045 B.C.). Institute of East Asian Studies, University of California.

King, R., & Lee, I. (2015). Hangul: Korea’s unique alphabet. Tuttle Publishing.

Kinnier Wilson, J. V. (1956). Two medical texts from Nimrud. Iraq, 18(2), 130-146.

Kusukawa, S. (2012). Picturing the book of nature: Image, text, and argument in sixteenth-century human anatomy and medical botany. University of Chicago Press.

Mann, B. A. (2000). Iroquoian women: The Gantowisas. Peter Lang.

Marshack, A. (1972). The roots of civilization: The cognitive beginnings of man’s first art, symbol and notation. McGraw-Hill.

Powell, B. B. (1989). Why was the Greek alphabet invented? The epigraphical evidence. Classical Antiquity, 8(2), 321-350.

Powell, B. B. (1991). Homer and the origin of the Greek alphabet. Cambridge University Press.

Pratley, G. (2003). A century of Canadian cinema. Lynx Images.

Rosenthal, F. (1975). The classical heritage in Islam. University of California Press.

Salomon, R. (1999). Ancient Buddhist scrolls from Gandhāra. University of Washington Press.

Sarpong, P. (1971). The sacred stools of the Akan. Ghana Publishing Corporation.

Savage-Smith, E. (1985). Islamicate celestial globes: Their history, construction, and use. Smithsonian Institution Press.

Schmandt-Besserat, D. (1992). Before writing: From counting to cuneiform. University of Texas Press.

Snyder, J. P. (1993). Flattening the earth: Two thousand years of map projections. University of Chicago Press.

Sullivan, L. (1924). The autobiography of an idea. Press of the American Institute of Architects.

Talbert, R. J. A. (2010). Rome’s world: The Peutinger map reconsidered. Cambridge University Press.

Thompson, J. E. S. (1972). A commentary on the Dresden Codex. American Philosophical Society.

Traganou, J. (2004). The Tōkaidō road: Travelling and representation in Edo and Meiji Japan. RoutledgeCurzon.

Urton, G. (2003). Signs of the Inka khipu: Binary coding in the Andean knotted-string records. University of Texas Press.

Whitfield, S. (2004). The Silk Road: Trade, Travel, War and Faith. History Today, 54(5).

zKorean. (n.d.). History of Hangul. zKorean. https://zkorean.com/hangul/history_of_hangul

Zaslow, M. (1975). Reading the rocks: The story of the Geological Survey of Canada 1842-1972. Macmillan of Canada.