Showing posts with label Art. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Art. Show all posts

Saturday, December 27, 2025

Curious

Curious (pronounced kyoor-ee-uhs)

(1) Eager to learn or know; inquisitive; interested, inquiring

(2) Prying; meddlesome, overly inquisitive.

(3) Arousing or exciting speculation, interest, or attention through being inexplicable or highly unusual; odd; strange.

(4) Made or prepared skilfully (archaic).

(5) Done with painstaking accuracy or attention to detail (archaic).

(6) Careful; fastidious (archaic).

(7) Marked by intricacy or subtlety (archaic).

(8) In inorganic chemistry, containing or pertaining to trivalent curium (rare).

1275–1325: From the Middle English curious, from the Old French curius (solicitous, anxious, inquisitive; odd, strange (which endures in Modern French as curieux)), from the Latin cūriōsus (careful, diligent; inquiring eagerly, meddlesome, inquisitive), the construct being cūri- (a combining form of cūra (care) + -ōsusThe –ōsus suffix (familiar in English as –ous) was from Classical Latin from -ōnt-to-s from -o-wont-to-s, the latter form a combination of two primitive Indo-European suffixes: -went & -wont.  Related to these were –entus and the Ancient Greek -εις (-eis) and all were used to form adjectives from nouns.  In Latin, -ōsus was added to a noun to form an adjective indicating an abundance of that noun.  The English word was cognate with Italian curioso, the Occitan curios, the Portuguese curioso and the Spanish curioso.  The original sense in the early fourteenth century appears to have been “subtle, sophisticated” but by the late 1300s this had been augmented by “eager to know, inquisitive, desirous of seeing” (often in a bad (ie “busybody”) sense and also “wrought with or requiring care and art”, all these meaning reflecting the Latin original.  The objective sense of “exciting curiosity” was in use by at least 1715 but in booksellers' catalogues of the mid-nineteenth century, the word was a euphemism for “erotic, pornographic”, such material called curiosa the Latin neuter plural of cūriōsus.  That was not however what was in the mind of Charles Dickens (1812–1870) when he wrote The Old Curiosity Shop (1840-1841).

The derived forms include noncurious, overcurious, supercurious, uncurious & incuruious.  Both uncurious and incurious are rare and between them there is a difference in meaning and usage, but it is much weaker and less consistently observed than the distinction drawn (though not always observed) between disinterest and uninterest.  Incurious means “lacking curiosity; not inclined to inquire or wonder” and often carries a critical or evaluative tone, implying intellectual complacency or narrow-mindedness; it can be applied to individuals but seems more often used of groups.  Uncurious means “usually not curious” and tends to be descriptive rather than judgmental.  Being rarely used and obscure in what exactly is denoted, some style guides list them as awkward and best avoided, recommending being explicit about what is meant.  Curious is an adjective, curiousness & curiosity are nouns, curiously is an adverb; the noun plural curiosities.  The comparative more curious or curiouser and the superlative most curious or curiousest

The proverb “curiosity killed the cat” means “one should not be curious about things that don’t concern one”.  The phrase “curiouser and curiouser” comes from Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland (1865) by the English author Lewis Carroll (pen name of Charles Lutwidge Dodgson (1832–1898)).  As a modern, idiomatic form, it’s used to describe or react to an increasingly mysterious or peculiar situation (though usually not one thought threatening).  Alice made her famous exclamation after experiences increasingly bizarre transformations and other strange events in Wonderland; later, what was described would be thought surrealistic.  The phrase has endured and it appears often in literature and popular culture, London’s Victoria and Albert Museum even holding the Alice: Curiouser and Curiouser event.  The author’s use of “bad English” was deliberate, a device to convey the child’s sense of bewildered confusion.  In standard English, the comparative of "curious" is “more curious” with the –er suffix usually appended to words with one or two syllables.  The word “curiouser” thus inhabits a special niche in that although mainstream dictionaries usually list it as “informal” or “non-standard” (ie “wrong”), unlike most “mistakes”, because it’s a literary reference, it’s a “respectable” word (if used in the phrase).  In that, it’s something like “it ain’t necessarily so”.

Depiction of the mad hatter’s tea party by Sir John Tenniel (1820-1914) in an edition called Nursery Alice (1890), an abridged version of Alice's Adventures in Wonderland intended for children under five (the original drawing now held by the British Museum).  The book contained 20 illustrations by Sir John who also provided the artwork for the full-length publication.  A fine craftsman, Sir John was noted also for his moustache which “out-Nietzsched” Friedrich Nietzsche (1844–1900).  Despite much later speculation, no evidence has ever emerged to suggest Lewis Carroll was under the influence of drugs when writing the “Alice” books

Special derived adjectival uses of curious include the portmanteau word “epicurious” (curious about food, especially wishing to try new dishes and cuisines), the construct being epicu(reean) +‎ (cu)rious.  Although the notion of Epicureans (those who are followers of Epicureanism) being focused on food is overstated, that’s the way the word usually appears in popular use.  “Indy-curious” is from UK politics and refers to those interested in the possibility of independence for Wales, without necessarily being a supporter of the proposal.  Those who are “veg-curious” are interested in or contemplating a vegetarian or vegan diet.

The word “curious” became an element in the punch-lines of some “gay jokes” (a now extinct species outside the gay community) but survived in derived forms in sexology, presumably because they can be used neutrally.  The constructs include (1) “pancurious” (exhibiting a state of uncertainty about one's pansexual or panromantic status), (2) “bi-curious” (interested in having relationships with both men and women, curious about one's potential bisexuality; considering a first sexual experience with a member of the same sex (used especially of heterosexuals), (3) gay-curious (curious about one's homosexuality; curious to try homosexuality (4) homocurious (questioning whether one is homosexual), (5) polycurious (curious about or open to polyamory; potentially interested in having relationships with multiple partners and (6) trans-curious (interested in one's potential transness or the experience of a sexual encounter with a trans person.  None of these forms seem to be in frequent use and some may have been created to “cover the field” and there may be some overlap (such as between pancurious and polycurious) and that at least some may be spectrum conditions seems implicit in the way dictionaries list comparative and superlative forms (eg more bi-curious; most bi-curious).

The synonyms include enquiring, inquiring; exquisitive; investigative and the now rare peery, the latter a use of curious in the vein of the “meddling priest” (ie a “busybody” tending to ask questions or wishing to explore or investigate matters not of their concern).  Such a person could be labelled a quidnunc (gossip-monger, one who is curious to know everything that happens) a word (originally as quid nunc) from the early 1700s, the construct being the Latin quid (what? (neuter of interrogative pronoun quis (who?) from the primitive Indo-European root kwo-, stem of relative and interrogative pronouns)) + nunc (now); the idea was of someone habitually asking “What's the news?” and that phrase was one with which for decades the press baron Lord Beaverbrook (Maxwell Aitken, 1879-1964) would pester his editors.  The other group of synonyms reference the word in its “funny-peculiar” sense and include queer, curious: weird, odd, strange & bizarre.  Such an individual, concept or object can be called “a curiosity” and that’s reflected in the noun “curio” which dates from 1851 and meant originally “piece of bric-a-brac from the Far East” and was a short form of curiosity in the mid seventeenth century sense of “object of interest”’ by the 1890s it was in use to refer to rare or interesting bric-a-brac (or just about anything otherwise unclassified) from anywhere.  The related curioso was in use by the 1650s and for two centuries-odd was a word describing “one who is curious" (of science, art, metaphysics and such) or “one who admires or collects curiosities”; it was from the Italian curioso (a curious soul (person)).

1971 Plymouths in Curious Yellow (code GY3): 'Cuda 340 (left) and GTX (right). 

Although buyers of Ferraris, Porsches, Lamborghinis and such still often order cars in bright colors, most of the world’s fleet had for some years been restricted mostly to white, black and variants of silver & gray; it’s a phase the world is going through and it can’t be predicted how long this visually sober ere will last.  In the US in the late 1960s it was different and like other manufacturers, Chrysler had some history in the coining of fanciful names for the “High Impact” colors dating from the psychedelic era.  Emerging from their marketing departments came Plum Crazy, In-Violet, Tor Red, Limelight, Sub Lime, Sassy Grass, Panther Pink, Moulin Rouge, Top Banana, Lemon Twist & Citron Yella.  That the most lurid colors vanished during the 1970s was not because of changing tastes but in response to environmental & public health legislation which banned the use of lead in automotive paints; without the additive, production of the bright colours was prohibitively expensive.  Advances in chemistry meant that by the twenty-first century brightness could be achieved without the addition of lead so Dodge revived psychedelia for a new generation although Sub Lime became Sublime.

Criterion's re-issue of I Am Curious (Blue) and I Am Curious (Blue) with edited (colorized) artwork.  The original posters were monochrome.  

Two years into the first administration of Richard Nixon (1913-1994; US VPOTUS 1953-1961 & POTUS 1969-1974), and a year on from his declaration of a “War on Drugs”, it was obvious the psychedelic era was over but bright colors were still popular so come were carried over although the advertising became noticeably “less druggy”.  Although it may be an industry myth, the story told is that Plum Crazy & In-Violet (lurid shades of purple) were in 1969 late additions because the killjoy board refused to sign-off on Statutory Grape but despite that, Plymouth for 1971 decided to change the name of their vibrant hue of yellow from “Citron Yella” to “Curious Yellow” (code GY3), that apparently borrowed from the controversial 1967 Swedish erotic film I Am Curious (Yellow), directed by Vilgot Sjöman (1924-2006); it was followed the following year by I Am Curious (Blue), the two intended originally as 3½ hour epic.  As promoted at the time, the films were advertised as “I Am Curious: A Film in Yellow” and “I Am Curious: A Film in Blue”, the mention of the colors an allusion to the Swedish flag.

Lindsay Lohan does her bit to revive Chrysler’s 1971 Curious Yellow, the New York Post’s Alexa magazine, 5 December 2024.

A footnote to the earlier film is an uncredited appearance by Olof Palme (1927–1986; Prime Minister of Sweden 1969-1976 & 1982-1986) whose assassination remains unsolved. The films are very much period pieces of a time when on-screen depictions of sex were for the first time in some places liberated from most censorship and while this produced an entire genre of blends of eroticism and pornography, some directors couldn’t resist interpolating political commentary (of the left and right); at the time, just about everything (sex included) could be sociological.  Critic and audiences mostly were unconvinced but films like the “Curious” brace and Michelangelo Antonioni’s (1912–2007) Zabriskie Point (1970) later gained a cult following.  Problems encountered during production resulted in the release of Zabriskie Point being delayed until 1970 but in retrospective this was a blessing because if anyone doubted the spirit of the 1960s had died, the film was there to remove all doubt.  A commercial failure, visually, it remains a feast for students of pre-digital cinematography and some maintain the best way to enjoy subsequent viewings is to mute the sound and play the soundtrack on repeat; unsynchronized with the scenes, its an experience rewarding in its own way.  

Monday, December 22, 2025

Psychosis

Psychosis (pronounced sahy-koh-sis)

In psychiatry, a severe mental disorder (sometimes with physical damage to the brain), more serious than neurosis, characterized by disorganized thought processes, disorientation in time and space, hallucinations, delusions and a disconnection from reality.  Paranoia, manic depression, megalomania, and schizophrenia are all psychoses.

1847: From the New Latin & Late Greek psȳ́chōsis, the construct being psycho- + -osis, the source being the Ancient Greek ψύχωσις (psúkhōsis) (animation, principle of life), psych from the Ancient Greek ψυχή (psukh or psykhē) (mind, life, soul).  The suffix –osis is from the Ancient Greek -ωσις (-ōsis) (state, abnormal condition or action), from -όω (-óō) (stem verbs) + -σις (-sis); -oses was the plural form and corresponding adjectives are formed using –otic, thus respectively producing psychoses and psychotic.  The Ancient Greek psykhosis meant "a giving of life; animation; principle of life".  In English, the original 1847 construction meant "mental affection or derangement" while the adjective psychotic (of or pertaining to psychosis) dates from 1889, coined from psychosis, on the model of neurotic/neurosis and ultimately from the Ancient Greek psykhē (understanding, the mind (as the seat of thought), faculty of reason).

In clinical use there are many derived forms (with meanings more precise than is often the case when such words migrate to general use) including antipsychotic, micropsychotic, neuropsychotic, nonpsychotic, postpsychotic, prepsychotic, propsychotic, protopsychotic, quasipsychotic, semipsychotic & unpsychotic.  The useful portmanteau word sarchotic (the construct a blend of sarcastic + psychotic) is used to describe a statement so distrubingly sarcastic it can't be certain if the remark is intended to be humerous or the person making it genuinely is psychotic and even then there are graduations for which the adverb is used, the comparative being "more psychotically" and the superlative "most psychotically".  Psychosis & psychoticism are nouns, psychotic is a noun & adjective and psychotically is an adverb; the noun plural is psychoses.

Psychosis and the DSM

The word psychosis was a mid-nineteenth century creation necessitated by early psychiatry’s separation of psychiatric conditions from neurological disorders.  Originally a generalized concept to refer to psychiatric disorders, gradually it became one of the major classes of mental illness, assumed to be the result of a disease process, and, more recently, to a symptom present in many psychiatric disorders.  During this evolution, the diagnostic criteria shifted from the severity of the clinical manifestations and the degree of impairment in social functioning to the presence of one or more symptoms in a set of psychopathological symptoms.  By the early twentieth century, the concept of neurosis (which once embraced both the psychiatric and the neurological disorders), became restricted to one major class of psychiatric disease whereas psychosis (which once embraced all psychiatric disorders) became restricted to the other.

The first consensus-based classification with a description of diagnostic terms was in the first edition (DSM-I (1952)) of the American Psychiatric Association's (APA) Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM) in which mental disorders were divided into two classes of illness: (1) organic disorders, caused by or associated with impairment of brain tissue function; and (2) disorders of psychogenic origin without clearly defined physical cause or structural changes in the brain.  When DSM-II (1968) was released, the classifications were revised with mental disorders now classed as (1) psychoses and (2) neuroses, personality disorders, and other non-psychotic mental disorders.  Psychosis was defined as a mental disorder in which mental functioning is impaired to the degree that it interferes with the patient's ability to meet the ordinary demands of life and recognize reality.

Advances in both neurology and psychiatry led to an extensive revision in DSM-III (1980).  Radically, all traditional dichotomies (organic versus functional, psychotic versus neurotic etc) were discarded with psychiatric syndromes assigned to one of fifteen categories of disease.  At the labelling level, the term psychotic was used to describe a patient at a given time, or a mental disorder in which at some time during its course, all patients evaluate incorrectly the accuracy of their perceptions and thoughts but the editors emphasized it should not be applied to patients suffering only minor distortions of reality, regardless of how exactly they might fulfil the clinical criteria.  The revisions in DSM-III-R (1987) extended only to slight changes in terminology.

Mirroring the changes in diagnostic criteria published by the WHO, DSM-IV (1994) noted the diagnosis of psychosis should no longer be based on the severity of the functional impairment but rather on the presence of certain symptoms which included delusions, hallucinations, disorganized speech and grossly disorganized or catatonic behavior.  This emphasis on psychoses being spectrum conditions was continued in DSM-5 (2013) with schizoid (personality) disorder and schizophrenia defining its mild and severe ends.  Additionally, a more precise diagnostic framework was defined in which patients were assessed in terms both of symptoms and duration of suffering.

Two examples of "schizophrenia art".

My Eyes in the Time of Apparition (1913) by August Natterer (1868-1938).

The life of German artist August Natterer began innocuously enough, studying engineering, travelling extensively, marrying and building a successful career as an electrician.  However, in his thirties, he began to experience anxiety attacks and delusions and in 1907 suffered a hallucination in which thousands of images flashed before his eyes in little more than thirty minutes.  So affected by the experience that he attempted suicide, he was admitted to an asylum and would spend the remaining quarter-century of his life in and out of institutes for the insane.  In the literature, Natterer is referred to as Neter, a pseudonym used by his psychiatrist to protect patient and family from the social stigma then associated with mental illness.  He described the 1907 hallucination as a vision of the Last Judgment which he described as:

"...10,000 images flashed by in half an hour.  I saw a white spot in the clouds absolutely close – all the clouds paused – then the white spot departed and stood all the time like a board in the sky. On the same board or the screen or stage now images as quick as a flash followed each other, about 10,000 in half an hour… God himself occurred, the witch, who created the world – in between worldly visions: images of war, continents, memorials, castles, beautiful castles, just the glory of the world – but all of this to see in supernal images. They were at least twenty meters big, clear to observe, almost without color like photographs… The images were epiphanies of the Last Judgment. Christ couldn't fulfil the salvation because he was crucified early... God revealed them to me to accomplish the salvation."

After his suicide attempt and committal to the first of what would be several mental asylums, Natterer thereafter maintained that he was the illegitimate child of Emperor Napoleon I (Napoleon Bonaparte (1769–1821; leader of the French Republic 1799-1804 & Emperor of the French from 1804-1814 & 1815)) and "Redeemer of the World".  The vision inspired Natterer to a prolific production of drawings, all documenting images and ideas seen in the vision, one especially interesting to those studying psychosis and schizophrenia being My Eyes in the Time of Apparition (1913), two eyes bloodshot and wide-open eyes staring from the page.  The irises of the eyes do not match.

The Scream (1893), oil, tempera & paste on cardboard, by Edvard Munch (1863-1944), National Gallery of Norway.

Norwegian Edvard Munch was one of a number of artists modern psychiatrists have written of as having both genetic and environmental predispositions to mental illness, schizophrenia in particular; one of Munch’s sisters had schizophrenia, his father suffered from depression, his mother and another sister dying from tuberculosis when he was young.  Munch though was a realist, once telling an interviewer, “I cannot get rid of my illnesses, for there is a lot in my art that exists only because of them.”  The idea of affliction as a source or artistic inspiration appears often in the literature of art, music and such and in that it's something of a parallel with those who produce their finest work while living under political oppression; unpleasant as that can be, reform can see careers suffer, famous dissidents abruptly left as "rebels without a cause" after the fall of the Soviet Union (1922-1991) and a generation of the UK's activists found grist for their mills less prolific after the Tory Party had Margaret Thatcher (1925–2013; UK prime-minister 1979-1990) walk the political plank.  Where one door closes however, another sometimes opens and in John Major (b 1943; UK prime-minister 1990-1997) the comedians found a rich vein of material.    

His was a troubled life and in 1908, following a psychotic break exacerbated by alcoholism, Munch was admitted to a mental health clinic, later diagnosed with neurasthenia, a clinical condition now known to be closely associated with hypochondria and hysteria.  Adding to his problems, the Nazis labelled Munch’s style “degenerate art” and in 1937 confiscated many of his works but their disapprobation had less of an influence on his painting than his schizophrenia, his output continuing to feature figures obviously tortured by anguish and despair.  The apparently frantic strokes of the brush and his seemingly chaotic pallet of colors have long intrigued both critics and clinicians seeing insight into his state of mind, the idea being his paintings provide something of a visual representation of how schizophrenia might lead individuals to see the world.

Lindsay Lohan, following Edvard Munch, rendered by Vovsoft in comicbook style.

Endlessly reproduced, the subject of numerous memes and the inspiration for many re-interpretations, The Scream is Munch’s most famous work and the most emblematic of what now casually is called “schizophrenic art” (unfortunately often conflated with “art by schizophrenics”).  For decades it has been the chosen artistic representation for the angst-ridden modern human condition, the artist in 1890 noting in his diary a still vivid memory: “I was walking along the road with two friends—the sun went down—I felt a gust of melancholy—suddenly the sky turned a bloody red... I felt this big, infinite scream through nature.  That entry was written some years after the sight and before painting The Scream in 1893 but the moment stayed with him because his vision of the sky caused him to “tremble with pain and angst” and he felt he heard his “…scream passing endlessly through the world.  For historians those fragment of memory proved of interest and in his book Krakatoa:The Day the World Exploded (2003), detailing the 1883 eruption of the Indonesian volcano Krakatoa, Simon Winchester (b 1944) connected the “blood red” Norwegian sky with the fiery sunsets created by the ash from the explosion circulating the planet, high in the atmosphere.

Krakatoa: The Day the world exploded.

The idea of a link between the catastrophic geological event and the painting had long intrigued art historians who understood such a sight would have appeared “surreal”, decades before the surrealism movement became established and that it was a natural phenomenon is well-supported by theoretical modelling.  Between 20 May-21 October 1883, Krakatau, a volcanic island in the Sunda Strait, erupted, the “main event” happening on 27 August, during which over two-thirds of the island and its surrounding archipelago was destroyed, the remnants subsequently collapsing into a caldera (in volcanology, a large crater formed by collapse of the cone or edifice of a volcano).  The event created a large tsunami which, much diminished, reached the Atlantic and it’s believed that day’s third explosion was history’s loudest known sound.  What Edvard Munch is thought to have seen is the evening light of the sun being colored by the millions of tons of sulfur dioxide and volcanic dust blasted high into the atmosphere, circulating there for years including over Oslo when the artist was taking his walk.  Nor was he wholly wrong in suggesting “a scream passing” because such was energy generated by the explosion, the acoustic pressure wave circled the globe at least three times.

Thursday, December 18, 2025

Kitsch

Kitsch (pronounced kich)

(1) Something though tawdry in design or appearance; an object created to appeal to popular sentiment or undiscriminating tastes, especially if cheap (and thus thought a vulgarity).

(2) Art, decorative objects and other forms of representation of dubious artistic or aesthetic value (many consider this definition too wide).

1926: From the German kitsch (literally “gaudy, trash”), from the dialectal kitschen (to coat; to smear) which in the nineteenth century was used (as a German word) in English in art criticism describe a work as “something thrown together”.  Among “progressive” critics, there was a revival in the 1930s to contrast anything thought conservative or derivative with the avant garde.  The adjective kitchy was first noted in 1965 though it may earlier have been in oral use; the noun kitchiness soon followed. Camp is sometimes used as a synonym and the two can be interchangeable but the core point of camp is that it attributes seriousness to the trivial and trivializes the serious.  Technically, the comparative is kitscher and the superlative kitschest but the more general kitschy is much more common.  The alternative spelling kitch is simply a mistake and was originally 1920s slang for “kitchen” the colloquial shortening dating from 1919.  Kitsch & kitchiness are nouns, kitschify, kitschifying & kitschified are verbs and kitschy & kitchlike are adjectives; the noun plural is kitsch (especially collectively) or kitsches.  Kitschesque is non-standard.

Kitsch can become ironic: a lava lamp in "hot dog stand" red & mustard.  Lava lamps were in the 1970s briefly fashionable as symbols of the modern but were soon re-classified kitsch.  In the twenty-first century, such was the demand that re-creations of the originals became available, bought because they were so kitsch; iconic can thus be ironic.

For something that lacks an exact definition, the concept of kitsch seems well-understood  although not all would agree on what objects are kitsch and what are not.  Nor is there always a sense about it of a self-imposed exclusionary rule; there are many who cherish objects they happily acknowledge are kitsch.  As a general principle, kitsch is used to describe art, objects or designs thought to be in poor taste or overly sentimental.  Objects condemned as kitsch are often mass-produced, clichéd, gaudy (the term “bling” might have been invented for the kitsch) or cheap imitations of something.  It can take some skill to adopt the approach but other items which can be part of the motif include rotary dial phones ("retro" can be a thing which transcends kitsch) and three ceramic ducks "flying" up the wall (although when lava lamps were in vogue, lava lamp buyers probably already thought them kitsch).  An application of physics of thermodynamics and fluid mechanics, the lava lamps once so admired by stoned hippies work by exploiting differences in density, thermal expansion, and buoyancy within two immiscible fluids (ie they do not mix), the dynamics driven by a localized heat source and the construction is simple; in a variously shaped glass vessel, there is a wax-based compound (the “lava”, which typically is paraffin wax mixed with additives to adjust density and melting point), floating in a liquid (usually water or a water-based solution with salts or alcohols to achieve the desired density).  At the base of the vessel there is a source of light and heat which traditionally was an incandescent bulb, the heat a product of the inefficiency with which the energy was converted into light; when the bulb is switched on, the liquid becomes heated and as the wax absorbs some of this heat, it melts and thermally expands, density thereby decreasing to the point it’s slightly less dense than the surrounding liquid.  Buoyant force then causes the wax to rise through the liquid in blobs, randomness meaning tiny variations in surface tension and viscosity create infinitely different shapes of the rounded forms which cool as they move away from the heat source, meaning the wax contracts, increasing its density beyond that of the liquid, causing it to sink back toward the bottom.  Because it’s a closed system working on a continuous cycle, the heating & cooling repeats continuously and, component failure and material decay aside, in theory a lava lamp could run forever.

Lindsay Lohan: Prom Queen scene in Mean Girls (2004).  If rendered in precious metal and studded with diamonds a tiara is not kitsch but something which is the same design but made with anodized plastic and acrylic rhinestones certainly is.

Führerkitsch: A painting attributed to Adolf Hitler.

The Nazi regime devoted much attention to spectacle and representational architecture & art was a particular interest of Adolf Hitler (1889-1945; Führer (leader) and German head of government 1933-1945 & head of state 1934-1945).  Hitler in his early adulthood had been a working artist, earning a modest living from his brush while living in Vienna in the years before World War I (1914-1918) and his landscapes and buildings were, if lifeless and uninspired, executed competently enough to attract buyers.  He was rejected by the academy because he could never master a depiction of the human form, his faces especially lacking, something which has always intrigued psychoanalysts, professional and amateur.  Still, while his mind was completely closed to any art of which he didn’t approve, he was genuinely knowledgeable about many schools of art and better than many he knew what was kitsch.  However, the nature of the “Führer state” meant he had to see much of it because the personality cult built around him encouraged a deluge of Hitler themed pictures, statuettes, lampshades, bedspreads, cigarette lighters and dozens of other items.  A misocapnic non-smoker, he ordered a crackdown on things like ashtrays but generally the flow of kitsch continued unabated until the demands of the wartime economy prevailed.

To the Berghof, his alpine headquarters on the Bavarian Obersalzberg near Berchtesgaden, Barvaria, there were constant deliveries of things likes cushions embroidered with swastikas in which would now be called designer colors and more than one of his contemporaries in their memoirs recorded that the gifts sometimes would be accompanied by suggestive photographs and offers of marriage.  Truly that was “working towards the Führer”.  At the aesthetic level he of course didn't approve but appreciated the gesture although they seem never to have appeared in photographs of the house’s principle rooms, banished to places like the many surrounding buildings including the conservatory of Hans Wichenfeld (the chalet on which the Berghof was based).

Hitler's study in the Berghof with only matched cushions (left) and the conservatory (centre & right) with some pillowshams (embroidered with swastikas and the initials A.H.).

In the US, Life magazine in October 1939 (a few weeks after the Nazis had invaded Poland) published a lush color feature focused on Hitler’s paintings and the Berghof, the piece a curious mix of what even then were called “human-interest stories”, political commentary and artistic & architectural criticism.  One heading :“Paintings by Adolf Hitler: The Statesman Longs to Be an Artist and Helps Design His Mountain Home” illustrates the flavor but this was a time before the most awful aspects of Nazi rule were understood and Life’s editors were well-aware a significant proportion of its readership were well disposed towards Hitler’s regime.  Still, there was some wry humor in the text, assessing the Berghof as possessing the qualities of a “…combination of modern and Bavarian chalet” styles, something “awkward but interesting” while the interiors, “…designed and decorated with Hitler’s active collaboration, are the comfortable kind of rooms a man likes, furnished in simple, semi-modern, sometimes dramatic style. The furnishings are in very good taste, fashioned of rich materials and fine woods by the best craftsmen in the Reich.”  Life seemed to be most taken with the main stairway leading up from the ground floor which was judged “a striking bit of modern architecture.”  Whether or not the editors were aware Hitler thought “modern architecture” suitable only for factories, warehouses and such isn’t clear.  They also had fun with what hung on the walls, noting: “Like other Nazi leaders, Hitler likes pictures of nudes and ruins” but anyway concluded that “in a more settled Germany, Adolf Hitler might have done quite well as an interior decorator.  There was no comment on the Führer’s pillows and cushions.

Lindsay Lohan themed pillowshams are available.

Whatever Life’s views on him as interior decorator, decades later, his architect was prepared to note the dictator’s “beginner’s mistakes” as designer.  In Erinnerungen (Memories or Reminiscences), published in English as Inside the Third Reich (1969)), Albert Speer (1905–1981; Nazi court architect 1934-1942; Nazi minister of armaments and war production 1942-1945) recalled:

A huge picture window in the living room, famous for its size and the fact that it could be lowered, was Hitler s pride.  It offered a view of the Untersberg, Berchtesgaden, and Salzburg. However, Hitler had been inspired to situate his garage underneath this window; when the wind was unfavorable, a strong smell of gasoline penetrated into the living room.  All in all, this was a ground plan that would have been graded D by any professor at an institute of technology. On the other hand, these very clumsinesses gave the Berghof a strongly personal note. The place was still geared to the simple activities of a former weekend cottage, merely expanded to vast proportions.

He commented also on the pillowshams: “The furniture was bogus old- German peasant style and gave the house a comfortable petit-bourgeois look.  A brass canary cage, a cactus, and a rubber plant intensified this impression.  There were swastikas on knickknacks and pillows embroidered by admiring women, combined with, say, a rising sun or a vow of "eternal loyalty."  Hitler commented to me with some embarrassment: "I know these are not beautiful things, but many of them are presents.  I shouldn't like to part with them."

The gush was also trans-Atlantic.  William George Fitz-Gerald (circa 1870-1942) was a prolific Irish journalist who wrote under the pseudonym Ignatius Phayre and the English periodical Country Life published his account of a visit to the Berchtesgaden retreat on the invitation of his “personal friend” Adolf Hitler.  The idea of Hitler having a "friend" (as the word conventionally is understood) is not plausible but that an invitation was extended might in the circumstances have been though is unexceptional.  Although when younger, Fitz-Gerald’s writings had shown some liberal instincts, by the “difficult decade” of the 1930s, experience seems to have persuaded him the world's problems were caused by democracy and the solution was an authoritarian system, headed by what he called “the long looked for leader.”  Clearly taken by his contributor’s stance, in introducing the story, Country Life’s editor called Hitler “one of the most extraordinary geniuses of the century” and noted “the Führer is fond of painting in water-colours and is a devotee of Mozart.

Country Life, March 1936 (both Hermann Göring (1893–1946) and Werner von Blomberg (1878–1946) were then generals and not field marshals).  General Göring wearing the traditional southern German Lederhosen (leather breeches) must have been a sight worth seeing.

Substantially, the piece in Country Life also appeared in the journal Current History with the title: Holiday with Hitler: A Personal Friend Tells of a Personal Visit with Der Führer — with a Minimum of Personal Bias”.  In hindsight it may seem a challenge for a journalist, two years on from the regime’s well-publicized murders of probably hundreds of political opponents (and some unfortunate bystanders who would now be classed as “collateral damage”) in the pre-emptive strike against the so-called “Röhm putsch”, to keep bias about the Nazis to a minimum although many in his profession did exactly that, some notoriously.  It’s doubtful Fitz-Gerald visited the Obersalzberg when he claimed or that he ever met Hitler because his story is littered with minor technical errors and absurdities such as Der Führer personally welcoming him upon touching down at Berchtesgaden’s (non-existent) aerodrome or the loveliness of the cherry orchid (not a species to survive in alpine regions).  Historians have concluded the piece was assembled with a mix of plagiarism and imagination, a combination increasingly familiar since the internet encouraged its proliferation.  Still, with the author assuring his readers Hitler was really more like the English country gentlemen with which they were familiar than the frightening and ranting “messianic” figure he was so often portrayed, it’s doubtful the Germans ever considered complaining about the odd deviation from the facts and just welcomed the favourable publicity.

As a "cut & paste" working journalist used to editing details so he could sell essentially the same piece to several different publications, he inserted and deleted as required, Current History’s subscribers spared the lengthy descriptions of the Berghof’s carpets, curtains and furniture enjoyed by Country Life’s readers who were also able to learn of the food severed at der Tabellenführer, (the leader's table) the Truite saumonée à la Monseigneur Selle (salmon trout Monseigneur style) and caneton à la presse (pressed duck) both praised although in all the many accounts of life of the court circle’s life on the Obersalzberg, there no mention of the vegetarian Hitler ever having such things on the menu.

Djuna Barnes (1892–1982) in polka-dots.

Briefly, Putzi Hanfstaengl was engaged to the US author Djuna Barnes who, although she denied being predominantly lesbionic, was regarded by some contemporary critics as having written the most definitive expressions of lesbian culture since Sappho.  It was one of Hanfstaengl's wives who spoke the most succinct thumbnail sketch of Hitler's sexuality: “I am telling you Putzi, he is a neuter.

Fitz-Gerald was though skilled at his craft and interpolated enough that was known to be true or at least plausible to paint a veneer of authenticity over the whole.  Of the guests he reported: (1) Hitler’s long-time German-American acquaintance & benefactor (when speaking of Hitler, both better words than "friend") Ernst "Putzi" Hanfstaengl (1887–1975 and a one-time friend of Franklin Delano Roosevelt (FDR, 1882–1945, US president 1933-1945) was a fine piano player (which nobody ever denied), (2) that Joachim von Ribbentrop (1893–1946; Nazi foreign minister 1938-1945) was a wine connoisseur (he entered the wine business after marrying into the Henkell family’s Wiesbaden business although his mother-in-law remained mystified, remarking of his career in government it was: “curious my most stupid son-in-law should have turned out to be the most successful” and (3) that Dr Joseph Goebbels (1897-1975; Nazi propaganda minister 1933-1945) was an engaging dinner companion and a “droll raconteur” (it is true Goebbels’ cynicism and cruel wit could be amusing even to those appalled by his views, something like the way one didn’t have to agree with the press baron Lord Beaverbrook (Maxwell Aitken, 1879-1964) to enjoy his tart cleverness).  Much of the credibility was however sustained by it being so difficult for most to “check the facts” and few would have been able to find out that in the spring of 1936 when Fitz-Gerald claimed to be enjoying the Führer’s hospitality, the quaint old Haus Wachenfeld was part of a vast building site, the place being transformed into the sprawling Berghof, the whole area unliveable and far from the idyllic scene portrayed.

Führerkitsch: A painting attributed to Adolf Hitler.

Dutifully, Hitler acknowledged the many paintings which which were little more than regime propaganda although the only works for which he showed any real enthusiasm were those which truly he found beautiful.  However, he knew there was a place for the kitsch… for others.  In July 1939, while being shown around an exhibition staged in Munich called the “Day of German Art”, he complained to the curator that some German artists were not on display and after being told they were “in the cellar”, demanded to know why.  The only one with sufficient strength of character to answer was Frau Gerhardine "Gerdy" Troost (1904–2003), the widow of the Nazi’s first court architect Paul Troost (1878–1934) and one of a handful of women with whom Hitler was prepared to discuss anything substantive.  Because it’s kitsch” she answered.  Hitler sacked the curatorial committee and appointed his court photographer (Heinrich Hoffmann (1885–1957)) to supervise the exhibition and the depictions of happy, healthy peasants and heroic nude warriors returned.  Hitler must have been satisfied with Herr Hoffman's selections because in November that year he conferred on him the honorific "professor", a title he would award about as freely as he would later create field marshals.

Kitsch: One knows it when one sees it.

What is kitsch will be obvious to some while others will remain oblivious and the disagreements will happen not only at the margins.  Although there will be sensitive souls appalled at the notion, it really is something wholly subjective and the only useful guide is probably to borrow and adapt the threshold test for obscenity coined by Justice Potter Stewart (1915–1985; associate justice of the US Supreme Court 1958-1981) in Jacobellis v Ohio (1964):

I shall not today attempt further to define the kinds of material I understand to be embraced within that shorthand description and perhaps I could never succeed in intelligibly doing so. But I know it when I see it…

Matinée de septembre (September Morn (1911)), oil on canvas by Paul Émile Chabas (1869–1937), in the collection of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York City (not currently on display).

What makes something defined (or re-defined) as kitsch is thus a construct of factors including artistic merit (most obviously when lacking), the price tag and the social or political circumstances of the time.  When Paul Émile showed Matinée de Septembre at the Paris Salon of 1912, it did not attract much comment, female nudes having for decades been a common sight in the nation’s galleries (although there had been a legislative crackdown on low-cost commercial products, presumably on the basis that while the “educated classes” could appreciate nudes in art, working class men ogled naked women merely for titillation).  In other words, Parisian salon-goers had seen it all before and Matinée de Septembre, while judged competently executed, was in no way compelling or exceptional.  The work may thus have been relegated to an occasional footnote in the history of art were it not for the reaction in Chicago when a reproduction appeared in the street-front window of a photography store.  Reflecting the contrasting aspirations of those Europeans who first settled in the continent, in the US there has always been a tension between Puritanism and Libertarianism and one of the distinguishing characteristics of the USSC (US Supreme Court) is that it has, over centuries, sometimes imperfectly, managed usually to interpret the constitution in a way which straddles these competing imperatives with rulings cognizant of what prevailing public opinion will accept and while the judges weren’t required to rule on the matter of Matinée de Septembre’s appearance in a shop window, the brief furore was an example of one of the country’s many moral panics.

Although at first instance a jury found the work not obscene and thus fit for public view, local politicians quickly responded and found a way to ensure such things were restricted to art galleries and museums, places less frequented by those “not of the better classes”.  The notoriety gained from becoming a succès de scandale (from the French and literally “success from scandal”) made it one of the best-known paintings in the US and, not being copyrighted, widely it was reproduced in prints, on accessories and parodied in what would now be called memes.  The popularity however meant a re-assessment of the artistic merit and many critics dismissed it as “mere kitsch” although it was in 1957 donated to New York’s Metropolitan Museum of Art where it has on occasion been hung as well as being loaned to overseas institutions.  The Met placed it in storage in 2014 and while that’s not unusual, whether the decision was taken because of it’s the depiction of one so obviously youthful isn’t clear.  The artist claimed his model was at the time aged 16 (thus some two years older than the star-cross’d lover in William Shakespeare’s (1564–1616) Romeo and Juliet (1597) and half a decade older than the girl who appeared on the cover of Blind Faith’s one-off eponymous album (1969)) but there is now heightened sensitivity to such depictions.

Kitsch also has a history also of becoming something else.  As recently as the 1970s, tea-towels, placemats, oven mitts, tea-trays and plenty else in the West was available adorned with depictions of indigenous peoples, often as racist tropes or featuring the appropriation of culturally sensitive symbols.  These are now regarded as kitsch only historically and have been re-classified as examples variously (depending on the content) of cultural insensitivity or blatant racism.

Kitsch at work: Lava Lamps and Random Number Generation

Some may have dismissed the Lava Lamp as "kitsch" but the movement of the blobs possesses properties which have proved useful in a way their inventor could never have anticipated.  The US-based Cloudflare is a “nuts & bolts” internet company which provides various services including content delivery, DNS (Domain Name Service), domain registration and cybersecurity; in some aspects of the internet, Cloudflare’s services underpin as many as one in five websites so when Cloudflare has a problem, the world has a problem.  For many reasons, the generation of truly random numbers is essential for encryption and other purposes but to create them continuously and at scale is a challenge.  It’s a challenge even for home decorators who want a random pattern for their tiles, their difficulty being that however a large number of tiles in two or more colors are arranged, more often than not, at least one pattern will be perceived.  That doesn’t mean the tiles are not in a random arrangement, just that people’s expectation of “randomness” is a shape with no discernible pattern whereas in something like a floor laid with tiles, in a random distribution of colors, it would be normal to see patterns; they too are a product of randomness in the same way there’s no reason why if tossing a coin ten times, it cannot all ten times fall as a head.  What interior decorators want is not necessarily randomness but a depiction of randomness as it exists in the popular imagination.

Useful kitsch: Wall of Entropy, Cloudflare, San Francisco.  Had this been in an installation in a New York gallery circa 1972, it would have been called art.  

For most purposes, computers can be good enough at generating random numbers but in the field of cryptography, they’re used to create encryption keys and the concern is that what one computer can construct, another computer might be able to deconstruct because both digital devices are working in ways which are in some ways identical.  For this reason, using a machine alone has come to be regarded as a Pseudo-Random Number Generator (PRNG) simply because they are deterministic.  A True Random Number Generator (TRNG) uses something genuinely random and unpredictable and this can be as simple as the tiny movements of the mouse in a user’s hand or elaborate as a system of lasers interacting with particles.

One of Cloudflare’s devices encapsulating unpredictability (and thus randomness) is an installation of 100 lava lamps, prominently displayed on a wall in their San Francisco office.  Dubbed Cloudflare’s “Wall of Entropy”, it uses an idea proposed as long ago as 1996 which exploited the fluid movements in an array of lava lamps being truly random; as far as is known, it remains impossible to model (and thus predict) the flow.  What Cloudflare does is every few milliseconds take a photograph of the lamps, the shifts in movement converted into numeric values.  As well as the familiar electrical mechanism, the movement of the blobs is influenced by external random events such as temperature, vibration and light, the minute variations in each creating a multiplier effect which is translated into random numbers, 16,384 bits of entropy each time.

Wall of Entropy, Cloudflare, San Francisco.

The arrangement of colors which avoids any two being together, in the horizontal or vertical, was a deliberate choice rather than randomness although, there's no reason why, had the selection truly been random, this wouldn't have been the result.  Were there an infinite number of Walls of Entropy, every combination would exist including ones which avoid color paring and ones in which the colors are clustered to the extent of perfectly matching rows, colums or sides.  What Cloudflare have done in San Francisco is make the lamps conform to the popular perception of randomness and that's fine because the colors have no (thus far observed) effect on the function.  In art and for other purposes, what's truly random is sometimes modified so it conforms to the popular idea of randomness.