La carte de Tupaia constitue l’un des artéfacts les plus célèbres et les plus énigmatiques à émerger des toutes premières rencontres entre Européens et îliens du Pacifique. Elle a été élaborée entre août 1769 et février 1770 par Tupaia, prêtre ’arioi, conseiller royal et maître de navigation originaire de Ra’iātea, aux Îles Sous-le-Vent de la Société. En collaboration avec divers membres d’équipage de l’Endeavour de James Cook, en deux temps distincts de cartographie et trois ébauches. L’identité de bien des îles qui y figurent et la logique de leur agencement demeuraient jusqu’à présent des énigmes. En se fiant en partie à des pièces d’archives restées ignorées, nous proposons, dans ce long essai, une nouvelle compréhension de sa logique cartographique, une reconstitution détaillée de sa genèse et donc, pour la toute première fois, une lecture exhaustive. La carte de Tupaia n’illustre pas seulement la magnitude et la maîtrise de la navigation polynésienne, elle réalise aussi une remarquable synthèse représentationnelle de deux systèmes d’orientation très différents.

Tupaia’s Map is one of the most famous and enigmatic artefacts to emerge from the early encounters between Europeans and Pacific Islanders. It was drawn by Tupaia, an arioi priest, chiefly advisor and master navigator from Ra‘iātea in the Leeward Society Islands in collaboration with various members of the crew of James Cook’s Endeavour, in two distinct moments of mapmaking and three draft stages between August 1769 and February 1770. To this day, the identity of many islands on the chart, and the logic of their arrangement have posed a riddle to researchers. Drawing in part on archival material hitherto overlooked, in this long essay we propose a new understanding of the chart’s cartographic logic, offer a detailed reconstruction of its genesis, and thus for the first time present a comprehensive reading of Tupaia’s Map. The chart not only underscores the extent and mastery of Polynesian navigation, it is also a remarkable feat of translation between two very different wayfinding systems and their respective representational models.

Tupaia’s Map is one of the most famous and enigmatic artefacts to emerge from the early encounters between Europeans and Pacific Islanders. It was drawn by Tupaia, an arioi priest, chiefly advisor and master navigator from Ra‘iātea in the Leeward Society Islands in collaboration with various members of the crew of James Cook’s Endeavour, in two distinct moments of mapmaking and three draft stages between August 1769 and February 1770. To this day, the identity of many islands on the chart, and the logic of their arrangement have posed a riddle to researchers. Drawing in part on archival material hitherto overlooked, in this long essay we propose a new understanding of the chart’s cartographic logic, offer a detailed reconstruction of its genesis, and thus for the first time present a comprehensive reading of Tupaia’s Map. The chart not only underscores the extent and mastery of Polynesian navigation, it is also a remarkable feat of translation between two very different wayfinding systems and their respective representational models.

Focusing on the politics of museums, collections and the untold stories of the scientific ‘specimens’ that travelled between Germany and Australia, this article reconstructs the historical, interpersonal and geopolitical contexts that made it possible for the stuffed skin of an Australian malleefowl to become part of the collections of Berlin’s Museum für Naturkunde. The author enquires into the kinds of contexts that are habitually considered irrelevant when a specimen of natural history is treated as an object of taxonomic information only. In case of this particular specimen human and non-human history become entangled in ways that link the fate of this one small Australian bird to the German revolutionary generation of 1848, to Germany’s nineteenth-century colonial aspirations, to settler–Indigenous relations, to the cruel realities that underpinned the production of scientific knowledge in colonial Australia, and to a present-day interest in reconstructing Indigenous knowledges.