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Ad Vivum and Counterfeiting: The Art of Looking Real 

Back in early modern Europe, artists would add the phrase ad vivum—Latin for “from life”—onto their work. It was to verify: this is from real life. And sometimes it was a total lie.

The world was opening up in the 1500s and people were eager to see the treasures of the natural world. Most people would never see beyond their front doors, so images had to fill in the gaps about what was out there. These illustrations ended up in Cabinets of Curiosity—the precursor to the modern museum. They were packed with fossils, shells, exotic specimens and occasionally, complete nonsense.

Some artists really nailed it. You know they definitely met that snake they drew. But others? Let’s just say if you saw their “lion,” you’d wonder if they had ever seen anything related to the cat family before.

Even the greats weren’t above a little creative license. Take Albrecht Dürer’s famous Rhinoceros from 1515—super detailed, incredibly famous, and 100% made without ever seeing a rhino. Dürer worked off a written description with someone else’s sketch and Renaissance Europe ate it up.

This leads us to: counterfeiting. The German word conterfeit was specifically used for a portrait copied from another image—like drawing Abraham Lincoln from a penny. Over time, the word grew to cover artwork that had any questionable legitimacy—including ad vivum drawings.

Botanical illustrations were especially tricky. As the line between science and art began to blur, a composite plant portrait—featuring flower, fruit, and root all at once—wasn't just showing what plants looked like; it attempted to explain how they worked. Maybe not literally accurate, but useful for sure. 

So what was ad vivum, really? Honest observation? Trying to capture a sometimes more useful spirit of a subject? Somewhere in between? These works walked a tightrope between truth and embellishment. 

Which brings us to you. Welcome to the Ministry of Awe, where credibility is optional, but authenticity is everything. When we open our doors in March, you’ll be able to step inside our Fraud, Forgery and Counterfeiting room, filled with our own curious mechanisms, coded language and shredded documents, with an undercurrent of espionage beneath it all. Go ahead and forge away—our Tellers will be the judge.

Dürer's Rhinoceros (Woodcut, 1515)