Mural

Mural (pronounced myoor-uhl)

(1) A large picture painted or affixed directly on a wall or ceiling.

(2) A greatly enlarged photograph attached directly to a wall.

(3) A wallpaper pattern representing a landscape or the like, often with very widely spaced repeats so as to produce the effect of a mural painting on a wall of average size; sometimes created as a trompe l'oeil (“deceives the eye”).

(4) Of, relating to, or resembling a wall.

(5) Executed on or affixed to a wall.

(6) In early astronomy, pertaining to any of several astronomical instruments that were affixed to a wall aligned on the plane of a meridian; formerly used to measure the altitude of celestial bodies.

1400–1450: From the late Middle English mural, from the Latin mūrālis (of or pertaining to a wall), the construct being mūr(us) (wall) + ālis (the Latin suffix added to a noun or numeral to form an adjective of relationship; alternative forms were āris, ēlis, īlis & ūlis).  The Latin mūrālis was from the Old Latin moiros & moerus, from the primitive Indo-European root mei (to fix; to build fences or fortifications) from which Old English picked-up mære (boundary, border, landmark) and Old Norse gained mæri (boundary, border-land).  In the historic record, the most familiar Latin form was probably munire (to fortify, protect).  The sense of "a painting on a wall" seems to have emerged as late as 1915 as a clipping of "mural-painting" (a painting executed upon the wall of a building), a term in use since at least 1850 and derived from mural in its adjectival form.

The adjective intermural (between walls) dates from the 1650s, from the Latin intermuralis (situated between walls), the construct being from inter- (between) + muralis (pertaining to a wall) from mūrus (wall).  The adjective intramural (within the walls (of a city, building etc)) dates from 1846, the construct being intra- (within) + muralis (pertaining to a wall) from mūrus (wall); it was equivalent to Late Latin intramuranus and in English, was used originally in reference to burials of the dead.  It came first to be used in relation to university matters by Columbia in 1871.  Mural is a noun, verb & adjective; muraled is a verb & adjective, muralist & muralism are nouns and muraling is a verb; the noun plural is murals.  The adjectives murallike, muralish & muralesque are non-standard and the adverb murally is unrelated, murally a term from heraldry meaning “with a mural crown” and used mostly in the technical terms “murally crowned” & “murally gorged”.  A mural crown was a crown or headpiece representing city walls or towers and was used as a military decoration in Ancient Rome and later as a symbol in European heraldry; its most common representation was as a shape recalling the alternating merlons (raised structures extending the wall) atop a castle’s turret which provided defensive positions through which archers could fire.  The style remains familiar in some of the turrets which sometimes on the more extravagant McMansions and in the chess piece properly called the rook but also referred to as a castle.

Lindsay Lohan murals in the style of street art (graffiti): In hijab (al-amira) with kebab roll by an unknown street artist, Melbourne, Australia (left), the photograph the artist took as a template (centre) and in a green theme in Welcome to Venice mural by UK-born Californian street artist Jules Muck (b 1978) (right).  While a resident of Venice Beach, Ms Lohan lived next door to former special friend, DJ Samantha Ronson (b 1977).

In multi-cultural Australia, the kebab roll has become a fixture in the fast-food scene with variations extending from vegan to pure meat, the term “kebab” something of a generic term meaning what the vendor decides it means.  Cross-culturally the kebab roll also fills a niche as the standard 3 am snack enjoyed by those leaving night clubs, a place and time at which appetites are heightened.  After midnight, many kebab rolls are sold by street vendors from mobile carts and those in the Middle East will not be surprised to learn barbaric Australians sometimes add pineapple to their roll.  The photograph of Ms Lohan in hijab was taken during a “doorstop” (an informal press conference) after her visit in October 2016 to Gaziantep (known to locals as Antep), a city in the Republic of Türkiye’s south-eastern Anatolia Region.  The purpose of the visit was to meet with Syrian refugees being housed in Gaziantep’s Nizip district and the floral hijab was a gift from one of the residents who presumably assisted with the placement because there’s an art to a well-worn al-amira.  Ms Muck’s work was a gesture to welcome Ms Lohan moving from Hollywood to Venice Beach and the use of green is a theme in many of her works.  Unfortunately, Ms Lohan’s time in Venice Beach was brief because she was compelled to return to New York City after being stalked by the Freemasons.

Mural montage: Donald Trump (b 1946; US president 2017-2021 and since 2025) osculating with Mr Putin (Vladimir Vladimirovich Putin; b 1952; president or prime minister of Russia since 1999), Benjamin Netanyahu (b 1949; Israeli prime minister 1996-1999, 2009-2021 and since 2022), Boris Johnson (b 1964; UK prime-minister 2019-2022), Francis (1936-2025; pope 2013-2025) and “Lyin’ Ted” Cruz (b 1970; US senator (Republican-Texas) since 2013).

Probably not long after the charcoal and ochre of the first cave paintings was seen by someone other than the artist, there emerged the calling of “art critic” and while the most common fork of that well-populated profession focuses on the aesthetic, art has also long been political.  The mural of course has much scope to be controversial because they tend to be (1) big and (2) installed in public spaces, both aspects making the things highly visible.  Unlike a conventionally sized painting which, even if large, a curator can hang in some obscure spot or put into storage, the mural is just where it is and often part of the built environment; there it will be seen.  In art history, few murals have more intriguing tales than Michelangelo’s (Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni; 1475–1564) ceiling and frescos (1508-1512) in the Vatican’s Sistine Chapel but although there were at the time of the commissioning and completion few theological or political squabbles, there were the Vatican’s usual personal and institutional tensions, cardinals and bishops with their own agendas (some financial) peeking and poking into why Julius II (1443–1513; pope 1503-1513) had handed the juicy contract to someone thought primarily a sculptor rather than a painter.

Sistine Chapel, The Vatican, Rome.

The political stoush came later.  At the time, the nudity had been noted and while some voices were raised in opposition, there was no attempt to censor the work because during the High Renaissance, depictions of nudity (on canvas, in marble etc) were all around including in the Vatican but decades later, during the sittings of the Council of Trent (1545–1563), critiques of “nakedness” in art became more vocal.  That was especially the case after the Counter-Reformation (circa 1550–circa 1670) produced a more severe Church, a development with many repercussions, one of which was the “fig-leaf campaign” in which an artist was commissioned to paint over (especially male) genitalia, the traditional “fig leaf” the preferred device.  Perhaps curiously, despite the early appearance of the motif in the art of Christendom, for centuries the fig leaf wasn’t “obligatory” although they appear often enough that at times they must have been at least “desirable” and in other periods and places clearly “essential”.  The later infamous “Fig Leaf Campaign” was initiated by Pope Paul IV (1476–1559; pope 1555-1559) and continued by his successors although it was most associated with the ruling against “lasciviousness” in religious art made in 1563 by the Council of Trent.  It was something very much in the spirit of the Counter-Reformation and it was Pius IV (1499–1565; pope 1559-1565) who commissioned artist Daniele da Volterra (circa 1509–1566) to paint over the genitalia Michelangelo had depicted on his ceiling, extending his repertoire from strategically positioned leaves to artfully placed draperies or loincloths; Romans to his dying day nicknamed Volterra “Il Braghettone” (the breeches maker).  As late as the nineteenth century Greco-Roman statues from antiquity were still having their genitals covered with fig leaves (sometimes detachable, a trick the British Museum later adopted to protect Victoria’s (1819–1901; Queen of the UK 1837-1901) delicate sensibilities during her infrequent visits).  Another example of practical criticism was the edict by Pius IX (1792–1878; pope 1846-1878) that extant male genitalia on some of the classical statues adorning the Vatican should be “modified” and that involved stonemasons, sculptors and other artisans receiving commissions to “modify or cover” as required, some fig leaves at the time added.  It is however a myth popes sometimes would be seen atop a ladder, chisel in hand, hammering away for not only did they hire "the trades" to do their dirty work, what was done was almost always concealment rather than vandalism.

Then a work in progress, this is one of the few known photographs of Diego Rivera's mural in New York City's Rockefeller Center.  According to the Workers Age of 15 June, 1933, the image was "...taken surreptitiously by one of Rivera's aides..."  

Still, no pope ever ordered Michelangelo’s creation painted over but not all artists were so fortunate.  On 9 May 1933 (by coincidence a day when the Nazis publicly were burning books), New York’s very rich Rockefeller family ordered Mexican artist Diego Rivera (1886-1957) to cease work on his mural depicting "human intelligence in control of the forces of nature", then being painted in the great hall of the 70-storey Rockefeller Center in New York City.  Taking photographs of the mural was also prohibited.  What incurred the family’s wrath was the artist's addition of a depiction of Bolshevik revolutionary comrade Vladimir Lenin (1870–1924; head of government of Russia or Soviet Union 1917-1924) against a background of crowds of unemployed workers.  Comrade Lenin had not appeared in the conceptual sketch (entitled Man at the Crossroads Looking with Hope and High Vision to the Choosing of a New and Better Future) the artist had provided prior to the commission being granted.  Nelson Rockefeller (1908–1979; US vice president 1974-1977 and who earned immortality by having "died on the job") genuinely was a modern art fan-boy and attempted to negotiate a compromise but it was the nadir of the Great Depression, marked by plummeting industrial production, bank failures and an unemployment rate approaching 25%; other family members, knowing there was in the air talk of revolution (the Rockefeller family had much to lose), didn’t want unemployed getting ideas.  To them, Lenin was close to being the devil incarnate and "the devil makes work for idle hands".  The mural was covered by a canvas drape until February 1934 when, under cover of darkness, it was broken up and carted off to be dumped, the family dutifully having paid the artist his US$21,000 fee.

Tatterdemalion

Tatterdemalion (pronounced tat-er-di-meyl-yuhn or tat-er-di-mal-yuhn)

(1) A person in tattered clothing; a shabby person.

(2) Ragged; unkempt or dilapidated.

(3) In fashion, (typically as “a tatterdemalion dress” etc), garments styled deliberately frayed or with constructed tears etc (also described as “distressed” or “destroyed”).

(4) A beggar (archaic).

1600–1610: The original spelling was tatter-de-mallian (the “demalion” rhymed with “Italian” in English pronunciation), the construct thus tatter + -demalion, of uncertain origin although the nineteenth century English lexicographer Ebenezer Cobham Brewer (1810-1897) (remembered still for his marvelous Dictionary of Phrase and Fable (1894) suggested it might be from de maillot (shirt) which does seem compelling.  Rather than the source, tatter is thought to have been a back-formation from tattered, from the Middle English tatered & tatird, from the Old Norse tǫturr.  Originally, it was derived from the noun, but it was later re-analysed as a past participle (the construct being tatter +‎ -ed) and from this came the verb.  As a noun a tatter was "a shred of torn cloth or an individual item of torn and ragged clothing" while the verb implied both (as a transitive) "to destroy an article of clothing by shredding" & (as an intransitive) "to fall into tatters".  Tatterdemalion is a noun & adjective and tatterdemalionism is a noun; the noun plural is tatterdemalions.

In parallel, there was also the parallel "tat", borrowed under the Raj from the Hindi टाट (ṭāṭ) (thick canvas) and in English it assumed a variety of meanings including as a clipping of tattoo, as an onomatopoeia referencing the sound made by dice when rolled on a table (and came to be used especially of a loaded die) and as an expression of disapprobation meaning “cheap and vulgar”, either in the context of low-quality goods or sleazy conduct.  The link with "tatty" in the sense of “shabby or ragged clothing” however apparently comes from tat as a clipping of the tatty, a woven mat or screen of gunny cloth made from the fibre of the Corchorus olitorius (jute plant) and noted for it loose, scruffy-looking weave.  Tatterdemalion is a noun & adjective; the noun plural is tatterdemalions.  The historic synonyms were shoddy, battered, broken, dilapidated, frayed, frazzled, moth-eaten, ragged, raggedy, ripped, ramshackle, rugged, scraggy, seedy, shabby, shaggy, threadbare, torn & unkempt and in the context of the modern fashion industry, distressed & destroyed.  An individual could also be described as a tramp, a ragamuffin, a vagabond, a vagrant, a gypsy or even a slum, some of those term reflecting class and ethnic prejudice or stereotypes.  Historically, tatterdemalion was also a name for a beggar.

A similar word in Yiddish was שמאַטע‎ (shmate or shmatte and spelled variously as schmatte, schmata, schmatta, schmate, schmutter & shmatta), from the Polish szmata, of uncertain origin but possibly from szmat (a fair amount).  In the Yiddish (and as adopted in Yinglish) it meant (1) a rag, (2) a piece of old clothing & (3) in the slang of the clothing trade, any item of clothing.  That was much more specific than the Polish szmata which meant literally "rag or old, ripped piece of cloth" but was used also figuratively to mean "publication of low journalistic standard" (ie analogous the English slang use of "rag") and in slang to refer to a woman of loose virtue (used as skank, slut etc might be used in English), a sense which transferred to colloquial use in sport to mean "simple shot", "easy goal" etc.

Designer distress: Lindsay Lohan illustrates the look.

Tatterdemalion is certainly a spectrum condition (the comparative “more tatterdemalion”; the superlative “most tatterdemalion”) and this is well illustrated by the adoption of the concept by fashionistas, modern capitalism soon there to supply demand.  In the fashion business, tatterdemalion needs to walk a fine line because tattiness was historically associated with poverty while designers need to provide garments which convey a message wealth.  The general terms for such garments is “distressed” although “destroyed” is (rather misleadingly) also used.

Highly qualified porn star Busty Buffy (b 1996) in “cut-off” denim shorts with leather braces while beltless.

The ancestor of designer tatterdemalion was a pair of “cut off” denim shorts, improvised not as a fashion statement but as a form of economy, gaining a little more life from a pair of jeans which had deteriorated beyond the point where mending was viable.  Until the counter-culture movements of the 1960s (which really began the previous decade but didn’t until the 1960s assume an expression in mass-market fashion trends), wearing cut-off jeans or clothing obviously patched and repaired generally was a marker of poverty although common in rural areas and among the industrial working class where it was just part of life.  It was only in the 1960s when an anti-consumerist, anti materialist vibe attracted the large cohort of youth created by the post-war “baby boom” that obviously frayed or torn clothing came to be an expression of disregard or even disdain for the prevailing standards of neatness (although paradoxically they were the richest “young generation” ever).  It was the punk movement in the 1970s which took this to whatever extremes seemed possible, the distinctive look of garments with rips and tears secured with safety pins so emblematic of (often confected) rebellion that in certain circles it remains to this day part of the “uniform”.  The fashion industry of course noted the trend and what would later be called “distressed” denim appeared in the lines of many mainstream manufacturers as early as the 1980s, often paired with the acid-washing and stone-washing which previously had been used to make a pair of jeans appear “older”, sometimes a desired look.

Dolce & Gabbana Distressed Jeans (part number FTCGGDG8ET8S9001), US$1150.

That it started with denim makes sense because it's the ultimate "classless" fabric in that it's worn by both rich and poor and while that has advantages for manufacturers, it does mean some are compelled to find ways to ensure buyers are able (blatantly or with some subtlety) to advertise what they are wearing is expensive; while no fashion house seems yet to have put the RRP (recommended retail price) on a leather patch, it may be only a matter of time.  The marketing of jeans which even when new gave the appearance of having been “broken in” by the wearer was by the 1970s a define niche, the quasi-vintage look of “fade & age” achieved with processes such as stone washing, enzyme washing, acid washing, sandblasting, emerizing and micro-sanding but this was just to create an effect, the fabrics not ripped or torn.  Distressed jeans represented the next step in the normal process of wear, fraying hems and seams, irregular fading and rips & tears now part of the aesthetic.  As an industrial process that’s not difficult to do but if done in the wrong way it won’t resemble exactly a pair of jeans subject to gradual degradation because different legs would have worn the denim at different places.  In the 2010s, the look spread to T-shirts and (predictably) hoodies, some manufacturers going beyond mere verisimilitude to (sort of) genuine authenticity, achieving the desired decorative by shooting shirts with bullets, managing a look which presumably the usual tricks of “nibbling & slashing” couldn’t quite emulate.  Warming to the idea, the Japanese label Zoo released jeans made from material torn by lions and tigers, the company anxious to mention the big cats in Tokyo Zoo seemed to "enjoy the fun" and to anyone who has seen a kitten with a skein of wool, that will sound plausible.  Others emulated the working-class look, the “caked-on muddy coating” and “oil and grease smears” another variant although one apparently short-lived; appearing dirty apparently never a fashionable choice.  All these looks had of course been seen for centuries, worn mostly by the poor with little choice but to eke a little more wear from their shabby clothes but in the late twentieth century, as wealth overtook Western society, the look was adopted by many with disposable income; firstly the bohemians, hippies and other anti-materialists before the punk movement which needed motifs with some capacity to shock, something harder to achieve than had once been the case.

Distressed top and bottom.  Gigi Hadid (b 1995) in distressed T-shirt and "boyfriend" jeans.

For poets and punks, improvising the look from the stocks of thrift shops, that was fine but for designer labels selling scruffy-looking jeans for four-figure sums, it was more of a challenge, especially as the social media generation had discovered that above all they liked authenticity and faux authenticity would not do, nobody wanting to look it to look they were trying too hard.  The might have seemed a problem, given the look was inherently fake but the aesthetic didn’t matter for its own sake, all that had to be denoted was “conspicuous consumption” (the excessive spending on wasteful goods as proof of wealth) and the juxtaposition of thousand dollar distressed jeans with the odd expensive accessory, achieved that and more, the discontinuities offering irony as a look.  The labels, the prominence of which remained a focus was enough for the message to work although one does wonder if any of the majors have been tempted to print a QR code on the back pocket, linked to the RRP because, what people are really trying to say is “My jeans cost US$1200”.

1962 AC Shelby American Cobra (CSX 2000), interior detail, 2016.

The value of selective scruffiness is well known in other fields.  When selling a car, usually a tatty interior greatly will depress the price (sometimes by more even than the cost of rectification).  However, if the tattiness is of some historic significance, it can add to car’s value, the best example being if the deterioration is part of a vehicle's provenance and proof of originality, a prized attribute to the segment of the collector market known as the “originally police”.  In 2016, what is recognized as the very first Shelby American AC Cobra (CSX 2000) sold for US$13.75 million, becoming the highest price realized at auction for what is classified as "American car".  Built in 1962, it was an AC Ace shipped to California without an engine (and apparently not AC's original "proof-of-concept" test bed which was fitted with one of the short-lived 221 cubic inch (3.6 litre) versions of Ford's new "thin-wall" Windsor V8) where the Shelby operation installed a 260 cubic inch (4.2 litre) Windsor and the rest is history.  The tatterdemalion state of the interior was advertised as one of the features of the car, confirming its status as “an untouched survivor”.  Among Cobra collectors, patina caused by Carroll Shelby's (1923–2012) butt is a most valuable tatterdemalion.

Patina plus and beyond buffing out: Juan Manuel Fangio, Mercedes-Benz W196R Stromlinienwagen (Streamliner), British Grand Prix, Silverstone, 17 July 1954.

Also recommended to be repaired before sale are dents, anything battered unlikely to attract a premium.  However, if a dent was put there by a Formula One (F1) world champion, it becomes a historic artefact.  In 1954, Mercedes-Benz astounded all when their new grand prix car (the W196R) appeared with all-enveloping bodywork, allowed because of a since closed loophole in the rule-book.  The sensuous shape made the rest of the field look antiquated although underneath it was a curious mix of old and new, the fuel-injection and desmodromic valve train representing cutting edge technology while the swing axles and drum brakes spoke to the past and present, the engineers’ beloved straight-eight configuration (its last appearance in F1) definitely the end of an era.  On fast tracks like Monza, the aerodynamic bodywork delivered great speed and stability but the limitations were exposed when the team ran the Stromlinienwagen at tighter circuits and in the 1954 British Grand Prix at Silverstone, Juan Manuel Fangio (1911–1995; winner of five F1 world-championship driver's titles) managed to clout a couple of oil-drums (those and bails of hay how track safety was then done) because it was so much harder to determine the extremities without being able to see the front wheels.  Quickly, the factory concocted a functional (though visually unremarkable) open-wheel version and the sleek original was thereafter used only on the circuits where the highest speeds were achieved.  In 1954, the factory was unconcerned with the historic potential of the dents and repaired the tatterdemalion W196R so an artefact of the era was lost.  That apart, as used cars the W196s have held their value well, an open-wheel version selling at auction in 2013 for US$29.7 million while in 2025 a Stromlinienwagen realized US$53.9 million.  

1966 Ferrari 330 GTC (1966-1968) restored by Bell Sport & Classic.  Many restored Ferraris of the pre-1973 era are finished to a much higher standard than when they left the showroom.  Despite this, genuine, original "survivors" (warts and all) are much-sought in some circles.

In the collector car industry, tatterdemalion definitely is a spectrum condition and for decades the matter of patina versus perfection has been debated.  There was once the idea that in Europe the preference was for a vehicle to appear naturally aged (well-maintained but showing the wear of decades of use) while the US market leaned towards cars restored to the point of being as good (or better) than they were on the showroom floor.  Social anthropologists might have some fun exploring that perception of difference and it was certainly never a universal rule but the debate continues, as does the argument about “improving” on the original.  Some of the most fancied machinery of the 1950s and 1960s (notably Jaguars, Ferraris and Maseratis) is now a staple of the restoration business but, although when new the machines looked gorgeous, it wasn’t necessary to dig too deep to find often shoddy standards of finish, the practice at the time something like sweeping the dirt “under the rug”.  When "restored", many of these cars are re-built to a higher standard, what was often left rough because it sat unseen somewhere now smoothed to perfection.  That’s what some customers want and the best restoration shops can do either though there are questions about whether what might be described as “fake patina” is quite the done thing.  Mechanics and engineers who were part of building Ferraris in the 1960s, upon looking at some immaculately “restored” cars have been known wryly to remark: “that wasn't how we built them then.” 

Gucci offered Distressed Tights at US$190 (for a pair so quite good value).  Rapidly, they sold-out.

The fake patina business however goes back quite a way.  Among antique dealers, it’s now a definite niche but from the point at which the industrial revolution began to create a new moneyed class of mine and factory owners, there was a subset of the new money (and there are cynics who suggest it was mostly at the prodding of their wives) who wished to seem more like old money and a trend began to seek out “aged” furniture with which a man might deck out his (newly acquired) house to look as if things had been in the family for generations.  The notoriously snobbish (and amusing) diarist Alan Clark (1928–1999) once referred to someone as looking like “they had to buy their own chairs”, prompting one aristocrat to respond: “That’s a bit much from someone whose father (the art historian and life peer Kenneth Clark (1903–1983)) had to buy his own castle.”  The old money were of course snooty about the such folk and David Lloyd George (1863–1945; UK prime-minister 1916-1922) would lament many of the “jumped-up grocers” in his Liberal Party were more troublesome and less sympathetic to the troubles of the downtrodden than the "backwoodsmen" gentry in their inherited country houses.

Leap

Leap (pronounced leep)

(1) To spring through the air from one point or position to another; to jump.

(2) Quickly or suddenly to move or act.

(3) To cause to leap.

(4) A spring, jump, or bound; a light, springing movement.

(5) The distance covered in a leap; distance jumped.

(6) A place leaped or to be leaped over or from.

(7) A sudden or abrupt transition.

(8) A sudden and decisive increase.

(8) In folk mythology, to copulate with or coverture of (a female beast) (archaic).

(9) In slang, to copulate with (a human) (archaic).

(10) A group of leopards.

(11) In figurative use, a significant move forward.

(12) In figurative use, a large step in reasoning (often one that is not justified by the facts, hence the sceptical phrase “a bit of a leap” & “quite a leap”).

(13) In mining (also used in geology), a fault.

(14) In aquatic management, a salmon ladder; a trap or snare for fish, historically constructed with fallen from twigs; a “weely”.

(15) In music, a passing from one note to another by an interval, especially by a long one, or by one including several other intermediate intervals.

(16) An intercalary measure, best-known as “leap year” & “leap second”.

(17) In pre-modern measures of weight, half a bushel.

Pre 900: From the Middle English lepen, from the Old English hlēapan, from the Proto-West Germanic hlaupan, from the Proto-Germanic hlaupaną (a doublet of lope, lowp, elope, gallop, galop, interlope and loop).  It was cognate with the German laufen (to run; to walk), the Old Norse hlaupa the Gothic hlaupan, the West Frisian ljeppe (to jump), the Dutch lopen (to run; to walk), the Danish løbe and the Norwegian Bokmål løpe, from the primitive Indo-European klewb- (to spring; stumble) (and may be compared with the Lithuanian šlùbti (to become lame) & klùbti (to stumble).  The verb forms are tangled things.  The third-person singular simple present tense is leaps, the present participle leaping, the simple past leaped or leapt (lept & lope the archaic forms) and the past participle is leaped or leapt or (lept & lopen the archaic forms).  That leapt and leaped remain in concurrent use is another of those annoy things in English which are hangovers from their ancient entrenchments in regional use and, as a general principle leapt tends to be is preferred educated British English while leaped is seen more frequently in North America (although leapt is in those places not uncommon, especially in areas with historical ties to England).  The transitive sense as in “pass over by leaping” was in use by the early fifteenth century and there are references to the children’s game “leap-frog” documented in the 1590s, and so obvious was the use of that figuratively it probably quickly was adopted but the first attested entry dates from 1704.  The familiar “to leap tall buildings in a single bound” comes from the Superman comics of the 1940s although in idiomatic use, “leaps” has been paired with “bounds” since at least since 1720.  Leap is a noun, verb & adjective, leaper & leapling are nouns and leaping and leapt & leaped are verbs; the noun plural is leaps.

The leap year is “a year containing 366 days” and use dates from late fourteenth century Middle English lepe gere, a genuine innovation because no equivalent term existed in the Old English. The origin is thought to come from the effect of fixed festival days, which normally advance one weekday per year, to “leap” ahead one day in the week.  The Medieval Latin was saltus lunae (omission of one day in the lunar calendar every 19 years), the Old English form being monan hlyp.  The adjustments happened in the calendars of many cultures, always with the purpose of ensuring the man-made devices for tracking dates (and therefore time) remained consistent with the sun; summer needed always to feel like summer and winter like winter.  Different methods of handling the intercalary were adopted and in England the bissextile was the device.  The noun & adjective bissextile (plural bissextiles) dates from the early 1580s and was from the Latin bisextilis annus (bissextile year), the construct being bisextus + -ilis, deconstructed as bis- (two; twice; doubled) + sextus (sixth) + dies (day) and was a reference to the Julian calendar's original reckoning of its quadrennial intercalary day as a 48-hour 24 February (subsequently distinguished as the two separate days of the sixth day before the March calends (sexto Kalendas Martii) and the “doubled sixth day”.  In modern use, 24 February is now understood as “five days before 1 March” but in Roman use it was called “the sixth” because the counting of dates was then inclusive.

The most physically demanding (and dangerous) part of Lindsay Lohan’s impressive leap into a Triumph TR4 in Irish Wish was undertaken by a body double (the young lady in this case deserving the “stunt-double” title).

Ready to leap: Lindsay Lohan with stunt double Aoife Bailey (b 1999).

Lindsay Lohan's Netflix movie Irish Wish (2024) was said by Irish reviewers to be "a mix of Leap Year meets Just My Luck meets Freaky Friday in which Lohan stars as quiet book editor Maddie Kelly, who embarks on a journey to find love by learning to love herself first."  Like Irish Wish, Leap Year (2010) was filmed in Ireland but unlike 2010, 2024 was a leap year.  IMCDB’s (Internet Movie Cars Database) comprehensive site confirmed the Triumph TR4 was registered in Ireland (ZV5660, VIN:STC65CT17130C) as running the 2.1 litre version (17130C) of the engine.  The Triumph 2.1 is sometimes listed as a 2.2 because, despite an actual displacement of 2138 cm³; in some places the math orthodoxy is ignored and a "round up" rule applied, something done usually in jurisdictions which use displacement-based taxation or registration regimes, the "rounding up" sometimes having the effect of "pushing" a vehicle into a category which attracts a higher rate.  Those buying a TR4 for use in competitions with a 2.0 litre limit could specify the smaller unit from the factory but being based on a tractor engine (!) and thus fitted with wet-cylinder liners, “sleeving” a 2.1 back to 2.0 wasn’t difficult.  The lack of the "IRS" (independent rear suspension) badge on the trunk (boot) lid indicates the use of the live rear axle and that detail was of no significance in the plot although, given the leap scene, a convertible of some sort would have been required.  Although on the road the IRS delivered a smoother ride, those using TR4s in competition usually preferred the live rear-axle because it made the car easier to steer “with the throttle”.

The replacement of the bissextile by the then novel 29 February every four years-odd appears such an obviously good idea it seems strange it took centuries universally to be adopted in England although the documents reveal the shift was certainly well in progress by the mid-fifteenth century and in an echo of later practices, the more curmudgeonly the institution, the slower the intrusion of the new ways, the Admiralty and houses of parliament ignoring 29 February until well into the 1500s.  It wasn’t until the Calendar (New Style) Act (1750) passed into law that 29 February received formal recognition in UK law.  The reform worked well from the start but in some jurisdictions, government lawyers took no chances and for the handful of souls born on a 29 February, their birth dates were deemed to be 28 February or 1 March for all legal purposes (eligibility for drivers licenses or pensions, age of consent etc).  One born on 29 February is a “leapling” and there are said to be a few as five million of these lonely souls on the whole planet.  In many countries hospitals and midwives note the frequency with which expectant mothers approaching March request staff do whatever is required to avoid them giving birth to a leapling, fearing the child will feel deprived by having fewer birthdays than their siblings of friends.  The math of the leap year is it is one (1) evenly divisible by 4, (2) except for years are evenly divisible by 100 except that (3) years evenly divisible by 400 are leap years.  So, 2000 was while 1900 was not; 2100 will not be a leap year, but 2400 will be.  However, because the rotation of the Earth is changing (and thus the length of days), as is its distance from the Sun, even a 29 February now and then is not enough to keep everything in sync.  So, there are also leap seconds, spliced in as needed and unlike 29 February, only those dealing with atomic clocks and such notice addition.

Leap is common in idiomatic use:  To do something in “leaps and bounds” suggests commendably quick progress.  A “leap in the dark” is to take some action while being uncertain of consequences and the related “leap of faith” is trusting in something that cannot be seen or proven so in a sense they’re two ways of saying much the same thing although “leap of faith” does also imply some trust in something or someone.  To have one’s heart “leap into one’s throat” is an allusion to the sensation felt sometimes in the throat when something scary happens.  To “leap for joy” is much the same as “jump for joy” and describes joyous happiness.  To “leap at” something is enthusiastically to take up an offer, avail one’s self of an opportunity etc.  When doing so, one might be said to “leap into action”.  To be cautioned to “look before you leap” is to suggest one should be sure of things before doing something; if one ignores the advice then it’s a “leap of faith” or a “leap into the dark”.  To “leapfrog” is to skip a step in some process, the connotation almost always positive.  To suggest someone “take a flying leap” is much the same as telling them to “go jump in the lake” or, as is now more common: “fuck off”.  The concept of the "quantum leap" was in 1913 introduced (as the "quantum jump") by Danish physicist Niels Bohr (1885–1962) in his "Bohr model" of the atom.  In the strange world of quantum mechanics it describes the discontinuous change of the state of an electron in an atom or molecule from one energy level to another and was adopted figuratively to refer to an "abrupt, extreme change".  In modern use, it has come to mean a large or transformative change, a use to which pedants sometimes object but this is how the English language works.  The “leap year bug” is jargon rather than a idiom and describes the growing number of instances of problems caused by computers (and related machines) for whatever reason not correctly handling the existence of leap years.  Most are caused by human error and some are not being rectified because the original error has been built upon to such an extent that it’s easier to handle the bugs as they occur.  If something is said to be “a bit of a leap” or “quite a leap” it means there's some scepticism about the relationship one thing and another (often cause & effect). 

Jaguar's Leaper

Left to right (top row): Buick, Packard & Pierce-Arrow; (centre row): Rolls-Royce, Bentley & Mercury; (bottom row): Duesenberg, Mercedes-Benz & Nash.

The radiator cap of course began as a mere functional device which could be unscrewed to allow coolant to be added but, inevitably, possibilities occurred to stylists (they weren’t yet “designers”) and soon the things were a small platform for miniature (though many were anything but small) works of art to covey an image to suit at least what was imagined to be the character of the vehicle on which they sat.  Although such embellishments are now remembered for their decorative qualities (and many in the art deco era during the inter-war were lovely creations), some genuinely were functional and “topping-up” the coolant was for decades a frequent part of the motoring experience so, however attractive they may have been, their use as a handle means they may be thought architectonic as well as artistic. The Jaguar Leaper had fangs and while that sounds ominous for pedestrians, some of the radiator cap & hood emblems looked more lethal still and even before the “safety movement” of the 1960s, there had been discussions about the dangers they posed.  For the safety of pedestrians, the few survivors now are spring-loaded or retract when the vehicle is in motion.

Leaper on 1960 Jaguar Mark 2 3.8.  Owners found the fitting handy when opening the hood.

“Leaper” really was the factory’s name for the lunging feline figure which for decades adorned the space atop or behind the grill on many Jaguars.  The story of the origin is murky and while there may be some myth-making in it, the most likely explanation seems to be that when late in 1934 newly appointed Ernest William "Bill" Rankin (1898-1966, Advertising Manager and Public Relations Officer, Jaguar Cars 1934-1966) settled (from a list of charismatic wild animals) on “Jaguar” as a name for a new “sporty” SS (then the company name) car and, part of the “brand identity” was to design an appropriate radiator cap ornament.  Rankin was acquainted with the draftsman & technical illustrator Gordon Crosby (1885–1943) who he knew to be an amateur sculptor and it was to him the commission was granted.  Crosby delivered a prototype cast in bronze and according to company mythology, Jaguar’s founder, Sir William Lyons (1901–1985) thought it looked like “a cat shot off a fence” but liked the concept so, lengthened and softened into something sleeker, the refined shape emerged as the “Leaper”, first fitted in 1938.  The tales do differ, some suggesting Sir William’s “cat shot off a fence” thoughts were prompted by the sight of an earlier, third–party ornament which inspired him to task Mr Rankin with finding a replacement and, in the absence of documentary proof, Jaguar fans can pick the story they prefer.

Leaper on 1950 Jaguar Mark V 3.5.  The Mark V (1948-1951) was the last Jaguar with the external radiator cap and thus the last time a Leaper was also a cap-handle.

The SS name came from the Swallow Sidecar Company which Lyons had in 1922 co-founded with William Walmsley (1892–1961), reorganized as “S.S. Cars” after 1934 when Walmsley withdrew and the adoption in 1935 of “Jaguar” as a model name was mere marketing and nothing to do with the by then unsavoury reputation of the German SS (Schutzstaffel (protection squad), which began in 1923 as a small security guard for Adolf Hitler (1889-1945; Führer (leader) and German head of government 1933-1945 & head of state 1934-1945) but which evolved into a kind of parallel army for the Nazi Party and later into an armed formation almost a million-strong).  Even by 1945 when motor vehicle production resumed and the corporate name S.S. Cars formerly was changed to “Jaguar Cars Limited”, the rationale was the stronger brand identity of the latter rather than an aversion to anything associative with the Nazis.  Indeed, in 1957 Jaguar returned to SS as designation with the release of the XKSS, a road-going version of the Le Mans-winning D-Type race car.

An early Leaper (left) and the later "in flight" version (right) with the fully extended hind legs.

First fitted to production SS Jaguars in 1938, it became standard equipment on all until 1951 when the Mark V was discontinued.  As the last Jaguar to feature an external radiator cap, the assumption was that was the end of the Leaper and the strikingly modernist XK120 which created a sensation at the 1948 London Motor Show had only a radiator grill; the spirit of the age was that the ornaments were antiquated relics.  However, elsewhere in the industry, modernity and nostalgia managed peacefully to co-exist and while there was no revival of external radiator caps, the ornaments refused to die and from expensive Mercedes-Benz and Rolls-Royce to the most humble Austins and Chevrolets, the chromed constructions continued and sometimes grew, those not able to sit atop grills (many now with no “top” as such) re-imagined as hood (bonnet) ornaments.  So, in 1955 the Jaguar Leaper made a comeback on the new small saloon (the 2.4), the mascot using the subtle post-war re-working of the hind legs, made more outstretched to suggest the big cat in “mid-leap”, about to take its prey.

Rendered usually in fibreglass anodized with a shiny silver finish (although some, daringly, were gloss black), large leapers were often a feature of Jaguar dealerships (left).  Once decommissioned, they were sometimes sold and, applying dreadful and indefensible gender stereotyping, were a good gift for the garden (right) of the Jaguar-owning husband or boyfriend who "has everything". 

On the saloons, the design lasted 14 years and it was offered as an option on the XK150 (1957-1961) for while the XK120 (1948-1954) in 1948 had seemed streamlined modernity exemplified, the world had moved on and by 1957, although much improved and still stylish, the lines now seemed baroque rather than minimalist; the Leaper now fitted in well.  For the big Mark X saloon in 1961, paradoxically, a smaller Leaper was cast and this remained in use until the car (by then called 420G) was retired in 1970 so it was thus the last of the early Leapers, the XJ unadorned upon its debut in 1968 with the last of the legacy saloons (240, 340 (1967-1969 and both renamed and often de-contented versions of the Mark 2 (1959-1967)), S-Type (1963-1968) & 420 (1966-1968) produced in 1969.  The aftermarket though remained buoyant with many XJs and XJSs fitted with Leapers by owners who liked the look or dealers who thought they would.  It does seem they were fitted at the plant to many of the New Zealand-assembled XJs and the factory may have been in two minds about it: the hoods of all XJs (1968-1992) included on the underside skin- panel marks indicating where the holes should be drilled.  Not until the X300 XJ in 1994 would they again be factory-fitted to some models (in “pedestrian friendly” spring-loaded form) and this continued until 2005.

1958 Jaguar XK150 DHC (drop head coupé, left) and 1967 420G (right).

When in 1957 the Leaper appeared as an option on the XK150, Jaguar used the standard part fitted to the saloons but for the Mark X in 1961, a smaller version was cast, despite the car (stylistically something of a preview of the “fuselage” Chryslers of 1969) being the widest then produced in the UK (and it would remain so until 1992 when the company released the XJ220).  So, although the Leaper genuinely was smaller, the compression of relativities exaggerated the effect.  Jaguar took the opposite approach to Mercedes-Benz, the Germans creating a larger cartouche (the three-pointed star inscribed within a circle which sat atop the grill) for use on the big 600 Grosser (1963-1981).  What that did was maintain the relative dimensions familiar from the symbol’s use on smaller models.

Leaper on a US market 1999 Jaguar Vanden Plas (X308) which in the US market were fitted with the fluted grill used otherwise only on the Daimler variants.  The solid-timber picnic tables (a feature adored by the English middle class) were much admired.

The US market Vanden Plas models were the only Jaguars on which the Leaper was used in conjunction with the fluted grill fitted to the home market and RoW (rest of the world) Daimlers.  Because it was Mercedes-Benz and not Jaguar which after 1966 held the US rights to the Daimler brand, Daimlers since then sold in the US were badged as Jaguar Vanden Plas although they were otherwise identical to Daimlers including the fluted fittings.  The supercharged Daimler Vanden Plas was the most exclusive of the X308s and was noted for details such as the rear picnic tables being crafted from solid burl walnut timber rather than the veneer over plastic used on cheaper models.

1970 S2 Jaguar E-Type (top) from the "R2" run of 1000-odd (almost all of which were registered as 1971 models) with the Leaper badges on the flanks (left-side p/n BD35865 (left); right side p/n BD35866 (right)).  A Growler appeared in the front centre-bar (right).

The Series 2 E-Type (1968-1971) was marred by the clutter of bigger bumpers, protuberant headlight assemblies, badges and side-marker lights and so much did they detract from lovely, sleek lines of the Series 1 cars (1961-1967), bolting a luggage rack to the boot (trunk) lid probably seemed no longer the disfigurement it would once have been.  The disfigurement had begun with the transitional E-Types (the so-called 1.25 & 1.5 cars built in 1967) and indicate what would have been necessary to ensure post-1973 MGBs & MG Midgets conformed with the US headlight height stipulation.  It could have been done on the MGB but the shape of the Midget made the modification impossible (at least within aesthetic acceptability) but BL (British Leyland) took the cheaper route (always their preferred option) and raised the suspension height, compromising handling and lending the things a slight cartoonish quality but by then power had been so reduced by emission controls the view probably was handling prowess was no longer so important.  Remarkably, demand for both the by the antiquated MGB and Midget remained strong until sales finally ended in 1980.  The left-hand (left) and right-hand (right) fender badges, being directional, were different part numbers (BD35865 & BD35866 respectively) and those used on E-Types were silver on black whereas the variants used on the XJs were gold on black, some of which depicted the leaping feline at a slight slope, both matters of note for those wishing to restore cars to the challenging “factory original” standard.

1976 Jaguar XJC 4.2.

This XJC is one of many in the wild which, at some point, was fitted with a Leaper but it’s a shame whoever made the addition didn't at the same time remove the unfortunate vinyl roof.  Like the headlight covers sometimes added to the later (S1.25 & 1.5) S1 E-Types, removing an XJC's vinyl roof is one of the rare exceptions Jaguar's usually uncompromising originality police not only tolerate but encourage.  The Leaper badges on the flanks (behind the front wheel arch) were factory-fitted on the Series 1 (1968-1973) & Series 2 (1973-1979) XJs but whether on the XJ or E-Type were just disfiguring clutter and having them in silver & gold and with the feline sometimes at a different angle seems a minor but needless complication to the production process.

Still under the control of the doomed British Leyland, Jaguar lacked the resources fully to develop the XJC (1975-1998) and although it was displayed to much acclaim in 1973, not for another two seasons would it appear in showrooms, the programme starved of capital because greater priority was afforded to the XJ-S (1975-1996 and from 1991 officially “XJS”, a change most of the world informally had long adopted) which was thought a product with greater potential in the vital US market.  The XJC thus debuted with problems including (1) flawed sealing of the side windows which resulted in intrusive wind-noise, (2) a tendency of the doors to droop because, although longer and thus heavier than those of the four-door saloons, the same hinges were used and (3) the pillarless (ie a two-door hardtop) construction induced a slight flexing in the roof’s metal and while not a structural issue, because regulators had (quite sensibly) had lead removed from paint, the paint on the roof was prone to crazing.  The solutions (the development of exotic paint additives or re-designing the roof with heavier-gauge metal) would have been expensive and time-consuming so, in the British Leyland tradition, the Q&D (quick & dirty) approach was preferred and a vinyl roof was glued on but modern paints mean the ugly vinyl can now be removed so the roof’s lovely lines can be admired.

Jaguar’s cancelled Growler (left) and the new (EV-friendly) Leaper.  According to the MBAs, the message the Leaper conveys is: “Always leaping forward, it is a representation of excellence and hallmark of the brand.”

The companion bad to the Leaper was the “Growler” which featured the head of a Jaguar, mid-growl.  There were over the years many version of the Growler and it appeared variously on trunk-lids, grills, steering wheel bosses and such.  Because as a fitting it was never rendered in a way likely to cause injury to pedestrians, it might have been supposed it wouldn’t be vulnerable to cancellation but it transpired the Growler poses a significant moral hazard, presumably on the basis that while the somehow sensuously feminine Leaper is acceptable, the Growler embodies toxic masculinity.  Whether Jaguar’s MBAs discovered this from focus groups or divined it from their own moral superiority hasn’t be revealed but in 2024 the company announced the Growler would not re-appear when the new range was launched in 2025.  Given the public response to the DEI (diversity, equity & inclusion) themed preview of the company's EV (electric vehicle) re-brand, the presence or not of the Growler may not be of great significance but a new expression of the Leaper, (with something of a stylistic debt to the IBM logo), would be included so there’s that.

1985 Jaguar XJ-SC with after-market large Leaper.  Because of regulations, US the market XJ-S used quad circular headlights rather than the twin oval units otherwise fitted and while many don't like them, the "four eyes" look was closer to Jaguar's traditions.

Leapers have been fitted to some XJ-S and XJSs where they really don’t belong, the factory never installing one.  If it’s done, the least-worse approach is to use the small Leaper from the Mark X/420G and remove the Growler badge (if fitted) while the WCS (worst case scenario) is to leave Growler in place and add a large Leaper which really is too much clutter; with pre-modern Jaguars, less usually is more.  Still, for those who insist, reproductions of the classic 4¾ inch (120 mm) feline predator are available and those manufactured by German Jaguar tuner Jochen Arden comply with the EU’s rigorous safety regulations in that maximum pedestrian impact protection is afforded by the design integrating both lateral and horizontal rotation of the assembly.  The part is supplied as a kit which includes adapter plates to suit a number of otherwise leaperless jags and, being German-made, there is of course a “lifetime corrosion warranty”, the small print limited to (1) rusty Leapers purchased after November 2011, (2) not damaged and (3) validity restricted to the original purchaser and presentation of the original invoice.

1988 Jaguar XJ-S V12 Convertible by Hess & Eisenhardt (left) and 1989 Jaguar XJ-S V12 Convertible (right).  Note the bulkier soft-top used by the factory, necessitated by retention of the coupé's fuel tank.  The after-market, anodized plastic fittings on the wheel arches are, on an XJ-S, as undesirable as a Leaper.

When introduced in 1975, the XJ-S was available only as a coupé, the prevailing feeling in industry it was only a matter of time until US regulators outlawed convertibles.  For a number of reasons, the ban was never imposed and by the 1980s toes were again being dipped in the topless market, Jaguar in 1982 releasing the XJ-SC which featured a targa-like structure somewhere between that used on the Triumph Stag (1970-1977) and the various landaulets with “fold-back” roofs.  It was thus not a true “convertible” and sales were disappointing, demand limited further by the thing being purely a two-seater, the rear compartment re-configured as a generously-sized storage apace.  The dealer-feedback (notably from the US) however indicated there would be demand for a convertible XJ-S, something confirmed by US specialists Hess & Eisenhardt selling some 2000 of the conversions fabricated between 1986-1988.  Accordingly, in 1988 the factory released an XJ-S convertible and although also a two-seater, it proved a great success.  Interestingly, the factory’s design almost replicated the approach earlier taken by Jochem Arden with most of the coupe’s components retained.  This did necessitate the soft-top not folding especially low, unlike the Hess & Eisenhardt cars although to achieve that, modifications were made to the fuel tank and among some that proved controversial.

1968 Mercury Cougar GT-E 428 in Augusta Green Poly (left) and 1968 Mercury Cougar GT-E 427 in Grecian Gold (right).  Other than the Jaguaresque iconography, about the only thing European about the Cougar was the use of the French spelling of “litre”.  Ford in 1966-1967 also used a “7 Litre” badge, for a model which was fitted variously with the 427 & 428 cubic inch (7.0 litre) FE V8s.  The interchangeable badges were probably not a cost-saving measure but may have been to avoid the complaints Shelby American received as a consequence of fitting both the 427 and the less robust 428 to AC Shelby Cobras universally badged as “427”.

1968 Mercury Cougar GT-E 427 in Grecian Gold (left side badge).

Ford's Mercury division also had a stylized feline, introduced in 1967 when the Cougar debuted.  Unlike Jaguar's symbol, the cougar wasn't leaping but was caught more in mid-prowl although Mercury's marketing department would probably have liked people to have thought of it like that; the Cougar was that sort of car.  Although in colloquial use, cougars are often referred to as “big cats”, in zoological taxonomy, felinologists restrict the “big cat” classification to the genus Panthera (lions, tigers, leopards, snow leopards & jaguars) and one defining feature of the Panthera cats is their ability to roar, made possible by a specific adaptation in the larynx and hyoid bone.  Lacking the anatomical feature, like cheetahs, cougars are not able to roar.  Often known as the mountain lion, puma, or Puma concolor, despite their size, the cougar is more closely related to smaller cats so it’s properly a “large” cat rather than a “big cat”.