Imagine scrolling through a world without the internet, no Google search, no YouTube explainers, and certainly no AI assistants. In this analogue age of the 1920s and ’30s, how did one even begin to grasp the complex sweep of world history, scientific theory, or civilisational development? The answer, surprisingly elegant and grand in scope, lay in an artefact as tall as a child: the histomap. These five-foot-long visual timelines weren’t just educational tools — they were cinematic in ambition, historical in breadth, and eerily modern in their obsession with data visualisation.

Cecil B. DeMille and the Forgotten Visual Revolution of the Histomap

The early 20th century was dominated by the epic vision of Cecil B. DeMille — a director whose films, such as The Ten Commandments, Samson and Delilah, and Cleopatra, redefined what cinema could achieve. DeMille’s productions were larger-than-life, blending biblical grandeur with cutting-edge cinematic techniques. These films were the blockbusters of their day — full of drama, spectacle, and historical reimaginings.

Click here to see the entire histomap in large, zoomable, format.

But while DeMille dazzled audiences with visual storytelling on the silver screen, a quieter, data-driven revolution was unfolding in bookshops and libraries. Between the World Wars, a striking new way of visualising information took shape: the historical infographic, or “histomap.” At nearly five feet in length, these sprawling timelines aimed to condense entire civilisations, scientific fields, and philosophies into single, flowing charts. They were marketed not as dry academic tools, but as accessible, visually compelling narratives — designed to enlighten even the most uninitiated reader.

The Histomap: A Cinematic Data Experience

Much like the cinematic epics of the period, histomaps were bold in scale and ambition. One need only look at John B. Sparks’ famed Histomap of Evolution to appreciate the sheer elegance of the format. The design is not just functional — it is beautiful, with lines cascading down the page like rivers of knowledge, tracing the development of species across millennia.

In an era before online interactivity and infographics created with a click, these charts managed to fuse scientific rigour with aesthetic grace. As Rebecca Onion wrote for Slate, histomaps reflected the 1920s and ’30s obsession with the “outline” — the attempt to distil massive topics (“the history of the world! all of physics!”) into digestible, visual forms.

While some of the science may now be outdated — evolution, for instance, has seen countless refinements since Sparks’ time — the fundamental premise remains sound. The histomap presents knowledge as a journey, not a conclusion. It invites the viewer to explore relationships, patterns, and progression. Modern infographics, in contrast, often lack this sense of narrative depth. They tend to reduce complexity in the pursuit of clarity — sometimes to the point of distortion.

A Medium Reborn in the Digital Age

Interestingly, just as the historical epic has made a comeback in 21st-century cinema — armed with CGI armies and IMAX resolutions — the histomap has also seen a revival. In classrooms, museums, and even on Pinterest boards, vintage infographics are being re-examined as early forms of information design. They appeal not only to nostalgia but to a modern desire for slow, deliberate engagement with big ideas.

Today’s tools may allow for interactive timelines and scrolling visualisations, but few match the tactile, immersive experience of unrolling a histomap and tracing the arcs of history or science with your finger. They remind us that information can be beautiful, and that sometimes, looking back is the best way to move forward.