Our increasing knowledge of the working of the visual cortex has come from a combination of strategies. Even in the late 1950s, the physiological method of recording from single cells was starting to tell us roughly what the cells were doing in the daily life of an animal, at a time when little progress was being made in the detailed wiring diagram. In the past few decades both fields, physiology and anatomy, have gone ahead in parallel, each borrowing techniques and using new information from the other. I have sometimes heard it said that the nervous system consists of huge numbers of random connections. Although its orderliness is indeed not always obvious, I nevertheless suspect that those who speak of random networks in the nervous system are not constrained by any previous exposure to neuroanatomy. Even a glance at a book such as Cajal's Histologie du Système Nerveux should be enough to convince anyone that the enormous complexity of the nervous system is almost always accompanied by a compelling degree of orderliness. When we look at the orderly arrays of cells in the brain, the impression is the same as when we look at a telephone exchange, a printing press, or the inside of a TV set--that the orderliness surely serves some purpose. When confronted with a human invention, we have little doubt that the whole machine and its separate parts have understandable functions. To understand them we need only read a set of instructions. In biology we develop a similar faith in the functional validity and even ultimately in the understandability of structures that were not invented, but were perfected through millions of years of evolution. The problem of the neurobiologist (to be sure, not the only problem) is to learn how the order and complexity relate to the function. To begin, I want to give you a simplified view of what the nervous system is like--how it is built up, the way it works, and how we go about studying it. I will describe typical nerve cells and the structures that are built from them.