Miniature

Miniature (pronounced min-ee-uh-cher, min-ee-choor or min-uh-cher)

(1) A representation or image of something on a small or reduced scale.

(2) A greatly reduced or abridged form or copy.

(3) A very small painting, especially a portrait, showing fine detail on ivory or vellum.

(4) The art of executing such a painting.

(5) Historically, an illuminated letter or other decoration in a manuscript.

(6) In packaged alcoholic drinks, the small (usually 50 ml) bottles of spirits typically used in hotel mini-bars.

(7) Being, on, or represented on a small scale; reduced.

(8) In military dress, small versions of medals and decorations, worn on certain social occasions.

1580–1590: From the Italian miniatura (miniature painting), from the Medieval Latin miniātūra, the construct being miniāt(us) + -ūra (-ure) (From –u(s) (the suffix forming passive perfect participles) +‎ -ra (the nominal suffix).  Miniature is a noun, verb & adjective and miniaturization is a noun; the noun plural is miniatures.

Words undergo shifts in meanings or gain new senses which operate in parallel for a number of reasons including popular use, technological change, foreign influences and mistakes.  The modern meaning of “miniature” (a small version of something) arose because of a misunderstanding by medieval scholars who conflated miniāre (to paint red, (in illuminating manuscripts)) (from minium (the fiery red pigment used during the Middle Ages to ornament manuscripts)) with the Latin minimus (small (and in the strict technical sense used in Latin “not less or little but least”)).  Had the scholars of a few centuries ago got it right then miniature would have meant “an illuminated text”.  Long before there were printing presses, a trained elite worked as scribes, laboriously writing out by hand the books, scrolls and other manuscripts which were the preserve of the church, the rich and the relative few others who were literate.  In the west (things were a little more advanced in the Far East), literally whatever was printed on some form of parchment was the work of human hands and the slight variation in the style between one page and the next can be used to work out where the efforts of one scribe stopped and another began.

Illuminated manuscripts.

The process was to press a pigmented point against the surface which left the marks forming the letters and this was usually done in black but to enliven things, some characters or shapes were formed in red, often for titles, the large initial letters which marked the start of a paragraph (a tradition which persists to this day although the use of color is now rare) or the decorative drawings which usually in some way related to the subject of the text.  The Latin name for the red pigment (made either from cinnabar or red lead) was minium, and the corresponding verb meaning “to color with minium” was miniāre.

Lindsay Lohan in miniature: My Scene Goes Hollywood Lindsay Lohan Doll Gift Set by Mattel (autographed by the subject).

For the scholars who created the basis of the early Italian language, the connection between the decorative drawings rendered in red with miniare was so persuasive that miniare came to mean “to decorate a manuscript with a small drawing”.  A noun form of the word (miniatura) referred to the art of illuminating (ie adding illustrations) and in time this lost any hint of the use of a red pigment; it came to be applied whatever the color.  Because the “illuminations” (as the illustrations in manuscripts were called) were small compared with most drawings & paintings, miniatura came to be used to describe any small portrait or painting and, in the way language picked up figurative forms, eventually to anything very small. In English, “miniature” in that sense had been adopted by the late sixteenth century.

A 700 ml bottle of Gin might sell for US40 in a liquor store (US$2.85 per 50 ml) while a hotel might charge US$25 for the 50 ml miniature in a mini-bar (US$350 per 700 ml).  Sill, sometimes one really wants a G&T.

The concept of the miniature is well understood but the use is nuanced.  We have for decades lived in the age of miniaturization (now done at the atomic level) but the term “miniature” really makes sense only at the human scale.  In the military there are miniatures (which are scaled-down versions of decorations worn at certain social functions) and in a hotel mini-bar (a few still exist and they can be tempting if paying the high prices with OPM (other people’s money)) a 50 ml bottle of gin is a miniature, a small-scale rendition of the more familiar 700 or 1125 ml containers.  Both those examples are small versions of something larger but the most obvious instances of modern miniaturization are in electronics but nobody calls a smaller version of an integrated circuit a “miniature” even if both are structurally identical, differing only in scale.  So, the essence of the miniature is not merely that it’s minute, microscopic, diminutive, tiny or minuscule but that it is recognizably a smaller version of something which is familiar in a larger form.  In English, words in the vein of “miniature” actually have a tangled history.  Although it’s now close to extinct, “minify” was once a favorite among those too fastidious to tolerate the improper use of “minimize”.  Minify (the third-person singular simple present tense was minifies, the present participle minifying and the simple past and past participle minified) was a nineteenth century back-formation from magnify, creating its exact opposite.  There was also minish but all sources list it as archaic (although the popularity of diminish remains undiminished).

Small but not a “miniature”: Evening train to Hawthorn (circa 1889) by Tom Roberts (1856-1931) of the Heidelberg School.

In art history, the term “miniature” is specifically applied and not necessarily to all small paintings.  In August 1899, a number of artists of the Heidelberg School staged the 9 by 5 Impression Exhibition in Melbourne, Australia, the name a reference to most of the 183 works on display being painted on the cedar wood lids of cigar-boxes, all measuring 9 x 5 inches (229 x 127 mm).  The choice of medium was not an artistic device but reflected the impoverished artists’ need for an alternative to expensive canvas, most of the lids obtained for free from a tobacconist shop run by a family member.  The works were thus not “miniatures” in the accepted sense of the artistic tradition, even though they conformed with the structural definition and one criticism at the time was they resembled the small preliminary sketches artists would often make before commencing a larger work in the same style; interesting perhaps to academics and critics but hardly suitable for exhibition.  The size of the lids was actually not significant and had they been somewhat smaller or larger the art would have been much the same and the Heidelberg School’s particular impressionist technique was quite distinct from the broken colour technique of the French and it became the style of landscape painting that would for decades be the dominant form in Australia.  Controversial at the time, the 9 x 5s actually sold well, the public reacting more favorably than the critics, still not ready for the “shocks of the new” which awaited them in the new century and the surviving 9 x 5s now sell for up to Aus$1 million.

A seventeenth century miniature of the Italian School, oil painting on hard stone with a carved, golden frame (80 x 90 mm (3.14 x 3.54 inches).