Plasma

Plasma (pronounced plaz-muh)

(1) In anatomy, physiology & hematology, the liquid part of blood or lymph, as distinguished from the suspended elements; A clear component of blood or lymph containing fibrin.

(2) In cell biology, a former name for protoplasm; cytoplasm

(3) In cheese-making, a less common term for whey (a milk serum, separating as liquid from the curd after coagulation, as in cheese making).

(4) In mineralogy, a green, faintly translucent chalcedony.  Heliotrope is a green variety of chalcedony, containing red inclusions of iron oxide that resemble drops of blood, giving heliotrope its alternative name of bloodstone. In a similar variety, the spots are yellow instead, known as plasma.

(5) In physics, a highly ionized gas containing an approximately equal number of positive ions and electrons.

(6) In historic medicine, a mixture of starch and glycerin, once used as a substitute for ointments.

(7) In digital graphics (as demoscene), a visual effect in which cycles of changing colors are warped in various ways to give the illusion of liquid organic movement.

1712: From the Late Latin plasma (literally "mold") from the Ancient Greek πλάσμα (plásma) (something molded or formed, hence "image, figure; counterfeit, forgery; formed style, affectation”), akin to plássein (to form, mold; (and related to the modern plastic).  The Ancient Greek plásma originally meant "to spread thin" from the primitive Indo-European plath-yein, from the root pele (flat; to spread).  The original meaning in English was the now obsolete "form; shape" which reflected the classical form of the earlier plasm, the sense of a "liquid part of blood" dating from 1845 while that of "ionized gas" was from 1928.  Plasma is a noun and plasmatic & plasmic are adjectives; the noun plural is plasmas.

Plasma physics

Although plasma was first observed (and named “radiant matter”) in 1879 by British chemist and physicist Sir William Crookes (1832–1919),its nature wasn’t identified until work in 1897 by British physicist Sir Joseph Thomson (1856–1940).  The term “plasma” was first used in 1928 by American chemist, physicist, and engineer Irving Langmuir (1881–1957), the word chosen as a description of ionised gas because Langmuir noted the similarity between the transport of electrons from thermionic filaments and the way blood plasma carries the red and white corpuscles. 

Almost all observable matter in the universe is in the plasma state. Formed at high temperatures, plasmas consist of freely moving ions and free electrons and are known as the “fourth state of matter” because their unique physical properties distinguish them from solids, liquids and gases.  Plasma densities and temperatures greatly vary, from the cold gases of interstellar space to the extraordinarily hot, dense cores of stars and inside a detonating nuclear weapon.  Plasma and ionized gases possess unique properties quite unlike those of the other three states, the transition between them more a definitional question of the point(s) at which nomenclature shifts from one to the other; a kind of demarcation dispute between physicists.  A wholly speculative dispute is whether plasma is the most abundant form of ordinary matter in the universe, something impossible to determine because of uncertainty surrounding the existence and properties of dark matter.  Based on the existing mathematical models of the universe, there should be a great deal more matter and energy than has ever been observed, hence the “dark” fudge.  The assumption is that both are there but because they’re “dark” we can’t see them.  That assumption is however based on other known orthodoxies and either the existence or the deduced volume of dark matter may be found to be errors if any of those orthodoxies are either disproved or proved to have been wrongly calculated.  In the history of science, probably most orthodoxies have be overturned.

Plasma and blood

Plasma & platelets not separated: Lindsay Lohan in a blood-soaked photo-shoot by Tyler Shields (b 1982), Los Angeles, 2011.  Shields had worked with blood before, once completing a painting with blood from twenty donors, obtained using a commercial service after physicians declined to be involved in the project.

Plasma is the liquid component of blood and in human blood and by volume, some 55% of blood is plasma, the remainder made of red & white blood cells and platelets, all of which is suspended in the plasma which is about 92% water, a further 7% containing vital proteins such as albumin, gamma globulin and anti-hemophilic factor while the remaining 1% consists of mineral salts, sugars, fats, hormones and vitamins.  Plasma is vital for human function because it (1) assists in the maintenance of blood pressure and volume (2) transports the proteins critical for blood clotting and immunity, (3) carries electrolytes such as sodium and potassium on which muscles depends and (4) assists cell function by maintaining the body's pH balance.

In clinical medicine, plasma is given to trauma, burn and shock patients, as well as people with severe liver disease or multiple clotting factor deficiencies.  It boosts a patient’s blood volume, helping to prevent shock and encouraging clotting.  Pharmaceutical companies use plasma to make treatments for conditions such as immune deficiencies and bleeding disorders and in blood donations, the liquid portion can be separated from the cells.  As blood is drawn from the arm, it is fed through a machine which collects the plasma, the donor’s red blood cells and platelets then returned to the donor along with some saline. Remarkably, the process takes little longer than donating whole blood.  Donated plasma is frozen within 24 hours of being donated to preserve its clotting factors and can then safely be stored for up to a year, thawed for transfusion when needed.

Ultracrepidarian

Ultracrepidarian (pronounced uhl-truh-krep-i-dair-ee-uhn)

Of or pertaining to a person who criticizes, judges, or gives advice outside their area of expertise

1819: An English adaptation of the historic words sūtor, ne ultra crepidam, uttered by the Greek artist Apelles and reported by the Pliny the Elder.  Translating literally as “let the shoemaker venture no further” and sometimes cited as ne supra crepidam sūtor judicare, the translation something like “a cobbler should stick to shoes”.  From the Latin, ultra is beyond, sūtor is cobbler and crepidam is accusative singular of crepida (from the Ancient Greek κρηπίς (krēpís)) and means sandal or sole of a shoe.  Ultracrepidarian is a noun & verb and ultracrepidarianism is a noun; the noun plural is ultracrepidarians.  For humorous purposes, forms such as ultracrepidarist, ultracrepidarianish, ultracrepidarianize & ultracrepidarianesque have been coined; all are non-standard.

Ultracrepidarianism describes the tendency among some to offer opinions and advice on matters beyond their competence.  The word entered English in 1819 when used by English literary critic and self-described “good hater”, William Hazlitt (1778–1830), in an open letter to William Gifford (1756–1826), editor of the Quarterly Review, a letter described by one critic as “one of the finest works of invective in the language” although another suggested it was "one of his more moderate castigations" a hint that though now neglected, for students of especially waspish invective, he can be entertaining; the odd quote from him would certainly lend a varnish of erudition to trolling.  Ultracrepidarian comes from a classical allusion, Pliny the Elder (circa 24-79) recording the habit of the famous Greek painter Apelles (a fourth century BC contemporary of Alexander the Great (Alexander III of Macedon, 356-323 BC)), to display his work in public view, then conceal himself close by to listen to the comments of those passing.  One day, a cobbler paused and picked fault with Apelles’ rendering of sandals and the artist immediately took his brushes and pallet and touched-up the errant straps.  Encouraged, the amateur critic then let his eye wander above the ankle and suggested how the leg might be improved but this Apelles rejected, telling him to speak only of shoes and otherwise maintain a deferential silence.  Pliny hinted the artist's words of dismissal may not have been polite.

So critics should comment only on that about which they know.  The phrase in English is usually “cobbler, stick to your last” (a last a shoemaker’s pattern, ultimately from a Germanic root meaning “to follow a track'' hence footstep) and exists in many European languages: zapatero a tus zapatos is the Spanish, schoenmaker, blijf bij je leest the Dutch, skomager, bliv ved din læst the Danish and schuster, bleib bei deinen leisten, the German.  Pliny’s actual words were ne supra crepidam judicaret, (crepidam a sandal or the sole of a shoe), but the idea is conveyed is in several ways in Latin tags, such as Ne sutor ultra crepidam (sutor means “cobbler”, a word which survives in Scotland in the spelling souter).  The best-known version is the abbreviated tag ultra crepidam (beyond the sole), and it’s that which Hazlitt used to construct ultracrepidarian.  Crepidam is from the Ancient Greek κρηπίς (krēpís) and has no link with words like decrepit or crepitation (which are from the Classical Latin crepare (to creak, rattle, or make a noise)) or crepuscular (from the Latin word for twilight); crepidarian is an adjective rare perhaps to the point of extinction meaning “pertaining to a shoemaker”.

The related terms are "Nobel disease" & "Nobel syndrome" which are used to describe some of the opinions offered by Nobel laureates on subjects beyond their specialization.  In some cases this is "demand" rather than "supply" driven because, once a prize winner is added to a media outlet's "list of those who comment on X", if they turn out to give answers which generate audience numbers, controversy or clicks, they become "talent" and may be asked questions about matters in which their expertise is not immediately obvious.  This happens because some laureates in the three "hard" prizes (physics; chemistry; physiology or medicine) operate in esoteric corners of their discipline; asking a particle physicist something about plasma physics on the basis of their having won the physics prize may not elicit useful information.  Of course those who have won the economics gong or one of what some now call the DEI (diversity, equity and inclusion) prizes (peace; literature) may be assumed to have helpful opinions on everything.

Portrait of Clyde Cameron (1974), oil on masonite by Clifton Pugh (1924–1990), National Portrait Gallery, Canberra, Australia.  While opinions (of ultracrepidarians and others) might be divided on the merit of the portrait, all would agree that in the 1970s the ties often were dodgy.

Even if not Nobel laureates, among the well-educated there is sometimes a tendency to assume those not so schooled are unlikely to have much useful to say on any topic.  Gough Whitlam (1916–2014; prime minister of Australia 1972-1975) was a good lawyer and scholar of the classics but his knowledge of economic theory or the implications of economic policy notoriously was limited.  As not a few prime ministers have demonstrated, this need not be an obstacle to good governance provided such matters are left to those either with some expertise or are well-advised but Mr Whitlam, thinking the “dismal science” just another brief to be mastered, did like to be involved and during one of many acrimonious discussions, dismissed the opinions of his cabinet colleague Clyde Cameron (1913–2008) with a terse: “And what would shearer know about economics?”  “As much as an ex-classical Greek scholar” was Cameron’s not unreasonable retort and as one who had spent his early adulthood during the Great Depression travelling the country searching for work, he probably felt entitled to comment on public policy.  Whether economic outcomes would have been any better had the shearer been listened to more than the classicist can’t be known but the ineptitude of the administration was typified by the observation of the attorney-general (Kep Enderby (1926–2015 and another skilled lawyer) that: “Everybody should receive at least the average wage”.  Like Mr Whitlam, he meant well but the 1972-1975 ALP (Australian Labor Party) government did at least provide a salutary case study for the next ALP administration on the basis of “what not to do”.

Jackson Pollock (1912-1956): Blue Poles

Number 11 (Blue poles) (1952), oil, enamel and aluminum paint with glass on canvas.

In 1973, when a million dollars was a still lot of money, the NGA (National Gallery of Australia), a little controversially, paid Aus$1.3 million for Jackson Pollock’s (1912-1956) Number 11, 1952, popularly known as Blue Poles since it was first exhibited in 1954, the new name reputedly chosen by the artist.  It was some years ago said to be valued at up to US$100 million but, given the increase in the money supply (among the rich who trade this stuff) over the last two decades odd, that estimate may now be conservative although the suggestion in 2016 the value may have inflated to as much as US$350 million was though to be "on the high side".  Blue Poles emerged during Pollock’s "drip period" (1947-1950), a method which involved techniques such throwing paint at a canvas spread across the floor.  The art industry liked these (often preferring the more evocative term "action painting") and they remain his most popular works, although at this point, he abandoned the dripping and moved to his “black porings phase” a darker, simpler style which didn’t attract the same commercial interest.  He later returned to more colorful ways but his madness and alcoholism worsened; he died in a drink-driving accident.  Among ultracrepidarians, Pollock's nickname was "Jack the Dripper".

Alchemy (1947), oil, aluminum, alkyd enamel paint with sand, pebbles, fibres, and broken wooden sticks on canvas.

Although the general public remained uninterested (except in the price tags) or sceptical, there were critics, always drawn to a “troubled genius”, who praised Pollock’s work and the industry approves of any artist who (1) had the decency to die young and (2) produced lots of stuff which can for millions be re-sold.  US historian of art, curator & author Helen A Harrison (b 1943; director (1990-2024) of the Pollock-Krasner House and Study Center, the former home and studio of the Abstract Expressionist artists Jackson Pollock and Lee Krasner in East Hampton, New York) is an admirer, noting the “pioneering drip technique…” which “…introduced the notion of action painting", where the canvas became the space with which the artist actively would engage”.  As a thumbnail sketch she offered:

Number 14: Gray (1948), enamel over gesso on paper.

“Reminiscent of the Surrealist notions of the subconscious and automatic painting, Pollock's abstract works cemented his reputation as the most critically championed proponent of Abstract Expressionism. His visceral engagement with emotions, thoughts and other intangibles gives his abstract imagery extraordinary immediacy, while his skillful use of fluid pigment, applied with dance-like movements and sweeping gestures that seldom actually touched the surface, broke decisively with tradition. At first sight, Pollock's vigorous method appears to create chaotic labyrinths, but upon close inspection his strong rhythmic structures become evident, revealing a fascinating complexity and deeper significance.  Far from being calculated to shock, Pollock's liquid medium was crucial to his pictorial aims.  It proved the ideal vehicle for the mercurial content that he sought to communicate 'energy and motion made visible - memories arrested in space'.”

Number 13A: Arabesque (1948), oil and enamel on canvas.

Critics either less visionary or more fastidious seemed often as appalled by Pollock’s violence of technique as they were by the finished work (or “products” as some labelled the drip paintings), questioning whether any artistic skill or vision even existed, one finding them “…mere unorganized explosions of random energy, and therefore meaningless.”  The detractors used the language of academic criticism but meant the same thing as the frequent phrase of an unimpressed public: “That’s not art, anyone could do that.”

Number 1, 1949 (1949), enamel and metallic paint on canvas. 

There have been famous responses to  “That’s not art, anyone could do that” but Ms Harrison's was practical, offering people the opportunity to try.  To the view that “…people thought it was arbitrary, that anyone can fling paint around”, Ms Harrison conceded it was true anybody could “fling paint around” but that was her point, anybody could, but having flung, they wouldn’t “…necessarily come up with anything” by which she meant the wouldn't necessarily come up with anything of which the critical establishment (a kind of freemasonry of the art business) would approve (ie could attach a price tag).

Helen A Harrison, The Jackson Pollock Box (Cider Mill Press, 96pp, ISBN-10:1604331860, ISBN-13:978-1604331868).

In 2010, Ms Harrison released The Jackson Pollock Box, a kit which, in addition to an introductory text, included paint brushes, drip bottles and canvases so people could do their own flinging and compare the result against a Pollock.  After that, they may agree with collector Peggy Guggenheim (1898-1979) that Pollock was “...the greatest painter since Picasso” or remain unrepentant ultracrepidarians.  Of course, many who thought their own eye for art quite well-trained didn't agree with Ms Guggenheim.  In 1945, just after the war, Duff Cooper (1890–1954), then serving as Britain's ambassador to France, came across Pablo Picasso (1881–1973) leaving an exhibition of paintings by English children aged 5-10 and in his diary noted the great cubist saying he "had been much impressed".  "No wonder" added the ambassador, "the pictures are just as good as his".

Dresses & drips: Three photographs by Cecil Beaton (1904-1980), shot for a three-page feature in Vogue (March 1951) titled American Fashion: The New Soft Look which juxtaposed Pollock’s paintings hung in New York’s Betty Parsons Gallery with the season’s haute couture by Irene (1872-1951) & Henri Bendel (1868-1936).

Beaton choose the combinations of fashion and painting; pairing Lavender Mist (1950, left) with a short black ball gown of silk paper taffeta with large pink bow at one shoulder and an asymmetrical hooped skirt best illustrates the value of his trained eye.  Critics and social commentators have always liked these three pages, relishing the opportunity to comment on the interplay of so many of the clashing forces of modernity: the avant-garde and fashion, production and consumption, abstraction and representation, painting and photography, autonomy and decoration, masculinity and femininity, art and commerce.  Historians of art note it too because it was the abstract expressionism of the 1940s which was both uniquely an American movement and the one which in the post-war years saw the New York supplant Paris as the centre of Western art.  There have been interesting discussions about when last it could be said Western art had a "centre".

Spot the difference: Blue Poles, upside down.

Although the suggestion might offend the trained and discerning eyes of art critics, it’s doubtful that for ultracrepidarians the experience of viewing Blue Poles would much be different were it to be hung upside down.  Fortunately, the world does have a goodly stock of art critics who can explain that while Pollock did more than once say his works should be interpreted “subjectively”, their intended orientation is a part of the whole and an inversion would change the visual dynamics and gravitational illusions upon which the abstraction effects depend would be changed.  It would still be a painting but, in a sense, not the one the artist painted.  Because the drip technique involved “flinging and poring paint” onto a canvas spread across a studio’s floor, there was not exactly a randomness in where the paint landed but physics did mean gravity exerted some pull (in flight and on the ground), lending layers and rivulets what must be a specific downward orientation.  Thus, were the work to be hung inverted, what was in the creative process a downward flow would be seen as “flowing uphill” as it were.  The compositional elements which lent the work its name were course the quasi-vertical “poles” placed at slight angles and its these which are the superstructure which “anchor” the rest of the drips and, being intrinsically “directional”, they too have a “right way up”.  There is in the assessment of art the “eye of the beholder” but although it may be something they leave unstated, most critics will be of the “some eyes are more equal than others” school.

Spot the difference: Mondrian’s 1941 New York City 1 as it (presumably correctly) sat in the artist's studio in 1944 (left) and as it was since 1945 exhibited (upside-down) in New York and Düsseldorf (right).

So although ultracrepidarians may not “get it” (even after digesting the critics’ explanations) and wouldn’t be able to tell whether or not it was hung correctly, that’s because they’re philistines.  In the world of abstract art however, even the critics can be fooled: in 2022, it was revealed a work in Piet Mondrian’s (1872-1944) 1941 New York City 1 series had for 77 years been hanging upside down.  First in exhibited in 1945 in New York’s MOMA (Museum of Modern Art), the piece was created with multi-colored adhesive paper tape and, in an incorrect orientation, it has since 1980 hung in the Düsseldorf Museum as part of the Kunstsammlung Nordrhein-Westfalen’s collection.  The decades-long, trans-Atlantic mistake came to light during a press conference held to announce the Kunstsammlung’s new Mondrian exhibition and the conclusion was the error may have been caused by something as simple as the packing-crate being overturned or misleading instructions being given to the staff.  1941 New York City 1 will remain upside because of the condition of the adhesive strips.  “The adhesive tapes are already extremely loose and hanging by a thread” a curator was quoted as saying, adding that if it were now to be turned-over, “…gravity would pull it into another direction.  And it’s now part of the work’s story.”  Mondrian was one of the more significant theorists of abstract art and its withdrawal from nature and natural subjects.  “Denaturalization” he proclaimed to be a milestone in human progress, adding: “The power of neo-plastic painting lies in having shown the necessity of this denaturalization in painterly terms... to denaturalize is to abstract... to abstract is to deepen.”  Thanks to the curator, now even ultracrepidarians can understand.

Portrait of Dora Maar (1937), oil on canvas by Pablo Picasso, Musée Picasso, Paris, France.  The image to the right, still recognizably a human figure, obviously is “upside down” so the difference is not “difficult to spot”.  

One of the early surrealists, Dora Maar (Henriette Theodora Markovitch, 1907–1997) was associated with the artists in the inter-war years opposed to fascism; her relationship with Picasso would last a decade and yield a number of portraits but her attitude to them was ambivalent.  Still, as Picasso's best remembered muse, a kind of immortality was gained though she may have preferred to be remembered as an artist in her own right rather than “Picasso's muse”.  While there’s a tendency to divide art into the “abstract” and “realistic”, both categories encompass wide variations and probably the only truly useful binary is between “photo-realism” (ie close to indistinguishable from a HD (high definition) photograph) and everything else.  The cubists, futurists and impressionists definitely were abstract artists but their works often could be recognized as distortions of reality (the straddling orphists a bit of a “gray area”) while the nature of the subject was unambiguous.  By contrast, Action Painting (the “drippers” and beyond), Color Field Painting, Geometric Abstraction, Expressionism, Neo-plasticism, Informalism, Op Art and such often wholly was disconnected from anything immediately recognizable as being physical reality and a useful test is compare depictions on the works side-by-side, one hung as the artist intended, the other “upside down”.  Ultracrepidarians and others can then be asked to judge which is which and it’d be interesting to see if professionals are any more accurate than amateurs.  Unfortunately, AI (artificial intelligence) can’t be used as a sort of “control” if well-known works are part of the test because in digitized form their “correct” aspect would be “known” to the bots.

Eye of the beholder: Portrait of Lindsay Lohan in the style of Claude Monet (1840–1926) at craiyon.com and available at US$26 on an organic cotton T-shirt made in a factory powered by renewable energy.

Whether the arguments about what deserves to be called “art” began among prehistoric “artists” and their critics in caves long ago isn’t known but it’s certainly a dispute with a long history.  In the sense it’s a subjective judgment the matter was doubtless often resolved by a potential buyer declining to purchase but during the twentieth century it became a contested topic and there were celebrated exhibits and squabbles which for decades played out before, in the post modern age, the final answer appeared to be something was art if variously (1) the creator said it was or (2) an art critic said it was or (3) it was in an art gallery or (4) the price tag was sufficiently impressive.

So what constitutes “art” is a construct of time, place & context which evolves, shaped by historical, cultural, social, economic, political & personal influences, factors which in recent years have had to be cognizant of the rise of cultural equivalency, the recognition that Western concepts such as the distinction between “high” (or “fine”) art and “folk” (or “popular”) art can’t be applied to work from other traditions where cultural objects are not classified by a graduated hierarchy.  In other words, everybody’s definition is equally valid.  That doesn’t mean there are no longer gatekeepers because the curators in institutions such as museums, galleries & academies all discriminate and thus play a significant role in deciding what gets exhibited, studied & promoted, even though few would now dare to suggest what is art and what is not: that would be cultural imperialism.

Eye of the prompt 1.0: An AI generated portrait of Lindsay Lohan by ChatGPT imagined in "drip painting style", this one using an interpretation which overlaid "curated drips" over "flung paint".  This could be rendered using Ms Harrison's Jackson Pollock Box but would demand some talent.

In the twentieth century, it seemed to depend on artistic intent, something which transcended a traditional measure such as aesthetic value but as the graphic art in advertising and that with a political purpose such as agitprop became bigger, brighter and more intrusive, such forms also came to be regarded as art or at least worth of being studied or exhibited on the same basis, in the same spaces as oil on canvas portraits & landscapes.  Once though, an unfamiliar object in such places could shock as French painter & sculptor Marcel Duchamp (1887-1968) managed in 1917 when he submitted a porcelain urinal as his piece for an exhibition in New York, his rationale being “…everyday objects raised to the dignity of a work of art by the artist's act of choice.”  Even then it wasn’t a wholly original approach but the art establishment has never quite recovered and from that urinal to Dadaism, to soup cans to unmade beds, it became accepted that “anything goes” and people should be left to make of it what they will.  Probably the last remaining reliable guide to what really is "art" remains the price tag.

Eye of the prompt 1.1: An AI generated portrait of Lindsay Lohan by ChatGPT imagined in "drip painting style", this one closer to Pollock’s “action painting” technique.

His drip period wholly non-representational, Pollock didn’t produce recognizable portraiture so applying the technique for this purpose demands guesswork.  As AI illustrates, it can be done but, in blending two incompatible modes, whether it looks much like what Pollock would have produced had he accepted a “paint Lindsay Lohan” commission, is wholly speculative.  What is more likely is that even if some sort of hybrid, a portrait by Pollock would have been an abstraction altogether more chaotic and owing little to the structure on which such works usually depend in that there probably would have been no central focal point, fewer hints of symmetry and a use of shading producing a face not lineal in its composition.  That’s what his sense of “continuous motion” dictated: no single form becoming privileged over the rest.  So, this too is not for the literalists schooled in the tradition of photo-realism but as a work it’s also an example of how most armed with Ms Harrison's Jackson Pollock Box could with "drip & fling" produce this but not necessarily would produce this, chaos on canvas needing talent too.

1948 Cisitalia 202 GT (left; 1947-1952) and 1962 Jaguar E-Type (1961-1974; right), Museum of Modern Art (MoMA), New York City.

Urinals tend not to be admired for their aesthetic qualities but there are those who find beauty in stuff as diverse as math equations and battleships.  Certain cars have long been objects which can exert an emotional pull on those with a feeling for such things and if the lines are sufficiently pleasing, many flaws in execution or engineering can be forgiven, sometimes to the point they become part of the charm.  New York’s MoMA in 1972 acknowledged such creations can be treated as works of art when they added a 1948 Cisitalia 202 GT finished in “Cisitalia Red” (MoMA object number 409.1972) to their collection, the press release noting it was “…the first time that an art museum in the U.S. put a car into its collection.”  Others appeared from time-to-time and while the 1953 Willys-Overland Jeep M-38A1 Utility Truck (MoMA object number 261.2002) perhaps is not conventionally beautiful, its brutish functionalism has a certain simplicity of form and in the exhibition notes MoMA clarified somewhat by describing it as a “rolling sculpture”, presumably in the spirit of a urinal being a “static sculpture”, both to be admired as pieces of design perfectly suited to their intended purpose, something of an art in itself.  Of the 1962 Jaguar E-Type (1961-1974 and in the US sometimes (informally) dubbed XKE or XK-E) open two seater (OTS, better known as a roadster and acquired as MoMA object number 113.996), there was no need to explain because it’s one of the most seductive shapes ever rendered in metal.  Enzo Ferrari (1898-1988) attended the 1961 Geneva International Motor Show (now defunct but, on much the same basis as manufacturers east of Suez buying brand-names such as MG, Jaguar and such, the name has been purchased for use by an event in staged in Qatar) when the E-Type made its stunning debut and part of folklore is he called it “the most beautiful car in the world”.  Whether those words ever passed his lips isn’t certain because the sources vary slightly in detail and il Commendatore apparently never confirmed or denied the sentiment but it’s easy to believe and to this day many agree just looking at the thing can be a visceral experience.  The MoMA car is finished in "Opalescent Dark Blue" with a grey interior and blue soft-top (there are those who would prefer it in BRG (British Racing Green) over tan leather) and although as a piece of design it's not flawless (indeed, at some angles (notably three-quarter, rear), the two variants of the coupé can look gawky), anyone who can't see the beauty in a Series 1 E-Type OTS truly is ultracrepidarian.   

Pellucid

Pellucid (pronounced puh-loo-sid)

(1) Allowing the maximum passage of light, as glass; transparent; translucent; non-opaque.

(2) Clear; limpid.

(3) In fashion, a see through fabric or a garment made of such (used loosely also of many which are semi-opaque and thus technically subpellucid).

(4) Easily recognized or seen through; apparent, obvious (archaic).

(5) By extension, of music or some other sound: not discordant or harsh; clear and pure-sounding (technical use only in composition, academic study or criticism).

(6) Figuratively, clear in meaning, expression, or style; not obscure.

(7) Figuratively, of a person, able to think and understand clearly; not confused, perspicacious (now rare).

(8) In anatomy, as "zona pellucida" (the plural: zonae pellucidae or zonæ pellucidæ), a glycoprotein membrane surrounding the plasma membrane of an oocyte.

1610-1620: A learned borrowing from the Latin pellūcidus, a variant of perlūcidus (transparent, pellucid; very bright, radiant; very understandable), from perlūcēre (to shine through), the construct being per- (as a prefix, “through; throughout; completely, thoroughly”), from the primitive Indo-European root per- (forward, hence “through”) + lūcēre or lūcidus (clear; full of light, bright, shining (and figuratively “easily understood, clear, lucid”)), from lūceō (to shine; to become visible, show through (and figuratively “to be apparent, conspicuous, or evident”)).  The construct of the Latin lucidus was understood as lux (light), ultimately from the primitive Indo-European lewk- (bright; to see; to shine) + -idus (the suffix forming adjectives conveying the sense “tending towards”).  The construct in English may thus be understood as pe(r) +-l- + lucid (see through).  The (now rare) noun was derived from the adjective.  In technical use, the preferred word to convey the idea of “somewhat pellucid; tending toward pellucidness” appears to be subpellucid (along with the derived subpellucidly & subpellucidness, all sometimes hyphenated) rather than semi-pellucid, quasi-pellucid, or other possibilities.  The comparative is “more pellucid” and the superlative “most pellucid”).  Pellucid is a noun & adjective, pellucidness & pellucidity are nouns and pellucidly is an adverb; the noun plural is pellucids.  Pellucid and its derivatives are good words and should be used, just not by lawyers.

The pellucid water of Flathead Lake, Montana USA.

“These wells were filled with water, and with a blue light, celestial in its loveliness,—a light ethereal and pellucid.” (Over the Rocky Mountains to Alaska (1914) by Charles Warren Stoddard (1843-1909)).  In literary and poetic use, one will sometimes find “pellucid waters” but the word seem too obscure for advertizing copy-writers who, seeking pellucidity, prefer “crystal clear” although the once uncommon “azure” seems to have become sufficient familiar for the bays of the Mediterranean or Caribbean to be called “azure blue waters”.

Lindsay Lohan in swimsuit with subpellucid V-cut panel; clutch purse by Chanel and wearing Lanvin Classic Garnet ballet flats, Los Angeles, August 2012.

Although there are a few which are designed to be eye-catching, the extensive use the industry makes of pellucid (see-through) fabrics mostly is barely noticed because typically the application is either (1) only subpellucid, (2) covering non-sexualized body-parts such as arms or (3) as an overlay designed to highlight or subtly alter the color or texture of the fabric with which what lies beneath is made.  One intriguing tradition exploiting a fabric’s quality of pellucidly which has endured despite the unpromising origin is the bride’s wedding veil.  Historically, the idea of the veil was to conceal the bride’s appearance from the groom until the priest had pronounced the couple man & wife, thereby having joined together in the name of God what “let no man tear asunder”.  The functional advantage was as a precaution against a groom finding grounds for rejecting his betrothed in those once not uncommon cases where the ceremony was the first time the two had met, the arrangements having been hammered out by the often distant families, sometimes years in advance.  The point at which the bride was unveiled and the priest spoke the words: “You may now kiss the bride” which, in the cases of arranged marriages, actually meant: “You’re stuck with her mate; good luck.”  Even in times gone by however, most brides and grooms were well known to each other (“known” sometimes in the Biblical sense, thus the need for sometimes hastily arranged marriages) but the veil became a popular part of a bride’s ensemble and still they’re sometimes used.

In most parts of the English-speaking world, in recent decades there have been attempts to ensue “plain English” is used in legislation and legal documents.  It’s an admirable goal for many reasons but perhaps the most obvious is a contribution to increased compliance with laws, simply because pellucidness in wording would decrease the risk of unintentional breaches of law and legal obligations, at least some of which are the consequences of misunderstanding; as an example, a word like pellucid should not appear in legal documents because it is little-known and rare.  Using sentences plain in meaning and unambiguous even to those without legal training improves communication which increases information, thereby reducing the need for interpreters (lawyers), thereby decreasing the costs associated with the administration and application of legislation and other legal documents.  Those fond of conspiracy theories like to find in the difficult language a sort of job-creation programme for lawyers but it was really a product of the power of precedent, the phrases and terms of law, many still in their original Latin, having gained a certainty of meaning and thus maintained for generation after generation.  Language itself also had some inertia, the idea of a “legal style” of writing soon entrenched as “correct” and maintained by law schools and practitioners.

Lindsay Lohan and her lawyer in Court, Los Angeles, December 2011.

The matter for a long had attracted the interest of reformers in the law and parliaments but began to coalesce as a movement in the post-war years and this may at least have been influenced by the extent to which the increasing volume of laws passed by modern states were starting to intrude on the lives of more citizens, most of whom historically had little direct contact with legislation unless they came to the attention of the police.  In 1950, when sitting as a Lord of Appeal, the English judge Lord Radcliffe (1899–1977) observed what as early as 1913 had come to be called “legalese” had become: “…a sort of hieratic language… by which the priests incant the commandments.  I seem to see the ordinary citizen today standing before the law like the laity in a medieval church: at the far end the lights glow, the priestly figures move to and fro, but it is in an unknown tongue that the great mysteries of right and wrong are proclaimed.”  He concluded by asking: “...what willing allegiance can a man owe to a canon of obligation which is not even conceived in such a form as to be understood?”

It was a reasonable question, even if phrased in a way many would find as arcane as the object of his Lordship’s critique it wasn’t until the 1970s that law reform commissions and others began to circulate discussion papers and proposals  The rationale was encapsulated in one fragment in the decision handed down by Lord Donaldson (1920–2005; Master of the Rolls 1982-1992) in Merkur Island Shipping Corp v Laughton [1983]1 All ER 334: “The efficacy and maintenance of the rule of law, which is the foundation of any parliamentary democracy, has at least two prerequisites.  First people must understand that it is in their interests, as well as in that of the community as a whole, that they should live their lives in accordance with the rules and all the rules.  Second they must know what those rules are.”  In the 1990s, reform of language began to happen at scale and there was in this an element of technological determinism, the digitization of legislation and codes meaning texts ancient and modern began to appear on the screens of word processors, making modernization a simpler process.

Semiotics

Semiotics (pronounced sem-e-ot-ics)

(1) The study of signs and symbols as elements of communicative behaviour; the analysis of systems of communication, as language, gestures, or clothing.

(2) A general theory of signs and symbolism, usually divided into the branches of pragmatics, semantics and syntactics.

(3) Of or relating to signs.

(4) As a (now archaic) specialized use in medicine, the scientific study of the symptoms of disease (known later as symptomatology).

1660s: From the Ancient Greek σημειωτικός (sēmeiōtikós) (fitted for marking, portending), stem of sēmeioûn (to interpret as a sign), from σημειῶ (sēmeiô) (to mark, to interpret as a portend), from σημεῖον (sēmeîon) (a mark, sign, token), from σῆμα (sêma) (mark, sign).  Semiotics is the sense now understood in English was an adaptation by English physician and philosopher John Locke (1632-1704) on the model of Greek logic to mean “the doctrine of signs”.  The medical sense was from the 1660s, the use to describe the study of signs and symbols with special regard to function and origin dates from the 1880s and the use in psychology began in 1923.

The structural model of semiotics.

Semiotics is the study of signs and symbols, with special regard to function and origin especially as means of language or communication.  Essentially a branch of the study of meaning-making and meaningful communication including the deconstruction of signs and sign processes, indication, designation, likeness, analogy, allegory, metonymy, metaphor, symbolism, signification, and communication.  Semiotics has evolved to be closely related to linguistics, but can be treated, at least to some point, as a parallel stream.  The semiotic tradition explores the study of signs and symbols as a significant part of communications which can be, but are not of necessity tied to linguistics.  Indeed, semiotics is probably best known for non-linguistic sign systems.  Semiotics became popular with anthropologists who enjoyed the way cultural phenomenon could be studied without any lineal relationship to a specific language.  In a similar vein, zoologists used the method to examine how organisms make predictions about, and adapt to, their semiotic niche in the world.  In general, semiotic theories take signs or sign systems as their object of study including the communication of information in living organisms without structured language in the sense of human text.

Lindsay Lohan in a hotel bathroom, perhaps perplexed by unlabelled taps.

A classic example of semiotics is the convention that red indicates hot water and blue cold but not all manufacturers conform to this standard, some tapware designers apparently offended by the idea of any sort of label making a vulgar intrusion on their carefully crafted shapes.  In the days when Intourist (Интурист in the Russian, a contraction of иностранный турист (foreign tourist); the Soviet Union's notoriously erratic travel agency) enjoyed what was close to a monopoly in the operation of hotels in the USSR, the travel diaries of politicians, journalists and others lucky enough to enjoy a visit would not infrequently comment on the plumbing, taps either not labelled or with labels which would only by apparent coincidence be a reliable guide, faucets which might in the morning have conformed, swapping roles by the evening.

A semiotic convention (left) and examples of variation (right).

It's well understood that Green is for safety (like an exit door) and red for danger (such as a fire).  However, except where stipulated in regulations (which tend to be local rather than national), there's no guarantee the colors used in one place will translate to another and manufacturers' parts lists often include interchangeable components in a variety of colors so users can choose although, where consequences can be both severe and with implications over vast areas (such as sites dealing with nuclear energy), the color-coding and language of signs is done to an international standard.  The reason for danger signs being usually red is likely one of human historical association, red the color of blood and fire so linked with anger and danger.  Plasma physicists point out also that red is the color least scattered by air, water or dust molecules and thus remains visible for longer and at greater distances in adverse environments .  The effect of scattering is inversely related to the fourth power of the wavelength of a given color and because red has the highest wavelength, it gets scattered the least and is thus able to travel the longest distance through fog, rain etc before fading away.  It's the same reason the sky appears blue, the fine particles in the atmosphere scatter blue light most among all the components of white light.

Sometimes though, a color is just a color.  Temporary signs such as those warning of "men at work" or "wet floor" are typically in made in bright (even lurid) colors with the text rendered in a shade with maximum contrast, the object being to attract attention.  Curiously though, manufacturers do offer these in grey and black, perhaps because of the popularity of white and cream as floor colors in commercial spaces.