Decalcomania

Decalcomania (pronounced dih-kal-kuh-mey-nee-uh or dih-kal-kuh-meyn-yuh)

(1) The process of transferring designs from specially prepared paper to cardboard, paper, wood, metal, china, glass etc.

(2) A design so transferred (always rare).

1864: From the French décalcomanie, the construct being décalc- (representing décalquer (to trace, transfer (a design)) the construct being dé- (in the sense of “off”) + calquer (to press) + the interfix “-o-” + -manie (–mania).  Decalcomania is a noun; the noun plural is decalcomanias (the plural in French was decalcomania).  Disappointingly, the noun decalcomaniac is non-standard.

The French prefix dé- partly was inherited from the Middle French des-, from the Old French des-, from a conflation of Latin dis- (apart) (ultimately from the primitive Indo-European dwís).  In English, the de- prefix was from the Latin dē-, from the preposition dē (of, from (the Old English æf- was a similar prefix)).  It imparted the sense of (1) reversal, undoing, removing, (2) intensification and (3) derived from; of off.  In French the dé- prefix was used to make antonyms (as un- & dis- function in English) and was partially inherited from the Old and Middle French des-, from the Latin dis- (part), the ultimate source being the primitive Indo-European dwís and partially borrowed from Latin dē-.  In English de- became a most active word-forming element, used with many verbs in some way gained French or Latin.  The frequent use in Latin as “down, down from, from, off; down to the bottom & totally (hence “completely” (intensive or completive)) came to be reflected in many English words.  As a Latin prefix it was used also to “undo” or “reverse” a verb's action; it thus came to be used as a pure privative (ie “not, do the opposite of, undo”) and that remains the predominant function as a living prefix in English such as defrost (1895 and a symbol of the new age of consumer-level refrigeration), defuse (1943 and thus obviously something encouraged by the sudden increase in live bombs in civilian areas which need the fuses to be removed to render them safe) and de-escalate (1964, one of the first linguistic contributions of the political spin related to the war in Vietnam).  In many cases, there is no substantive difference between using de- or dis- as a prefix and the choice can be simply one of stylistic preference.  Calquer (to press) was from the Italian calcare, from the Latin calcāre (to tread on; to press (that sense derived from calx (heel)).

The suffix –mania was from the Latin mania, from the Ancient Greek μανία (mania) (madness).  In modern use in psychiatry it is used to describe a state of abnormally elevated or irritable mood, arousal, and/or energy levels and as a suffix appended as required.  In general use, under the influence of the historic meaning (violent derangement of mind; madness; insanity), it’s applied to describe any “excessive or unreasonable desire; a passion or fanaticism” which can us used even of unthreatening behaviors such as “a mania for flower arranging, crochet etc”.  As a suffix, it’s often appended with the interfix -o- make pronunciation more natural.  The use of the suffix “-mania” in “decalcomania” may appear a curious use of an element in a word describing a process in graphical or decorative art given usually it’s appended to reference a kind of obsession or madness (kleptomania, bibliomania, megalomania et al) but here it’s used in a more abstract way.  The “-manie” in the French décalcomanie was used to suggest a fad or craze (the latter in the sense of something suddenly widely popular) and was not related to the way “mania” is used by mental health clinicians.  So, it was metaphorical rather than medical rather as “Tulipmania” came to be used of the seventeenth century economic bubble in the Netherlands which was centred on the supply of and demand for tulip bulbs.

TeePublic’s Lindsay Lohan decals (page one).

The noun decal (pronounced dee-kal or dih-kal) was in use by at least 1910 as a clipping of decalcomania, a process which came into vogue in France as early as the 1840s before crossing the channel, England taking up the trend in the early 1860s.  As a noun it referred to (1) the prepared paper (or other medium) bearing a image, text, design etc for transfer to another surface (wood, metal, glass, etc) or (2) the picture or design itself.  The verb (“to decal” and also as decaled or decaling) described the process of applying or transferring the image (or whatever) from the medium by decalcomania.  The noun plural is decals.  In the US, the word came to be used of adhesive stickers which could be promotional or decorative and this use is now common throughout the English speaking world.  The special use (by analogy) in computer graphics describes a texture overlaid atop another to provide additional detailing.

Variants of the transfer technique which came to be called decalcomania would for centuries have been used by artists before it became popularized in the mid-eighteenth century.  The method was simply to spread ink or paint onto a surface and, before the substances dried, it was covered with material such as such as paper, glass, or metallic foil, which, when removed, transferred the pattern which could be left in that form or embellished.  Originally the designs were deliberate but the innovation of the Surrealists was to create imagery by chance rather than conscious control of the materials.  The artistic merits of that approach can be discussed but young children have long taken to it like ducks to water, splashing colors on one side of a piece of paper and then folding it in half so, once pressed together, the shape is “mirrored”, creating what is called a “butterfly print”, something like the cards used in the Rorschach tests.

Although an ancient practice, it is French engraver Simon François Ravenet (1706–circa 1774) who is crediting with give the technique its name because he called it décalquer (from the French papier de calque (tracing paper) and this coincided with painters in Europe experimenting with ink blots to add “accidental” forms of expression into their work.  Ravenet spent years working in England (where usually he was styled Simon Francis Ravenet) and was influential in the mid century revival of engraving although it was in ceramics decalcomania first became popular although the word didn’t come into wide use until adopted by the Spanish-born French surrealist Óscar Domínguez (1906–1957).  It was perhaps the German Dadaist and Surrealist Max Ernst (1891–1976) who more than most exemplified the possibilities offered decalcomania and it was US philosopher turned artist Robert Motherwell (1915–1991) who said of him: “Like every consequential modern painter, Max Ernst has enforced his own madness on the world.”  Motherwell was of the New York School (which also included the Russian-born Mark Rothko (1903–1970), drip painter Jackson Pollock (1912-1956) and the Dutch-American Willem de Kooning (1904–1997)) so he was no stranger to the observation of madness.  Condemned by the Nazis variously as an abstractionist, modernist, Dadaist and Surrealist, Ernst fled to Paris and after the outbreak of World War II (1939-1945) he was one of a number of artistic and political figures who enjoyed the distinction of being imprisoned by both the French and the Gestapo; it was with the help of US art patron and collector Peggy Guggenheim (1898–1979) he in 1941 escaped Vichy France and fled to the US.

That “help” involved their marriage, hurriedly arranged shortly after the pair landed in New York but although in the technical sense a “marriage of convenience”, she does seem genuinely to have been fond of Ernst and some romantic element wasn’t entirely absent from their relationship although it’s acknowledged it was a “troubled” marriage. A divorce was granted in 1946 but artistically, she remained faithful, his work displayed prominently in her New York gallery (Art of This Century (1942–1947)), then the city’s most significant centre of the avant-garde.  Through this exposure, although he never quite became integrated into the (surprisingly insular) circle of abstract expressionists, Ernst not only became acquainted with the new wave of American artists but contributed also to making European modernism familiar to Americans at a time when the tastes of collectors (and many critics) remained conservative.  He was an important element in her broader mission to preserve and promote avant-garde art despite the disruption of war.  So, the relationship was part patronage and part curatorial judgment and historians haven’t dwelt too much on the extent it was part love; even after their divorce, Guggenheim continued to collect pieces by Ernst and they remain in her famous “Venice Collection” at the Palazzo Venier dei Leoni.  As a wife she would have had opinions of her husband but as a critic she also classified and never said of Ernst as she said of Pollock: “...the greatest painter since Picasso.”

Untitled (1935), Decalcomania (ink transfer) on paper by André Breton.

For Ernst, the significance of decalcomania was not its utility as a tool of production (as it would appeal to graphic artists and decal-makers) but as something which would result in a randomness to excite his imagination.  What he did was use the oil paint as it ended up on canvas after being “pressed” as merely the starting point, onto which he built elements of realism, suggesting often mythical creatures in strange, unknown places but that was just one fork of decalcomania, Georges Hugnet (1906–1974) rendering satirical images from what he found while André Breton (1896–1966 and a “multi-media” figure decades before term emerged) used the technique to hone surrealism, truly decalcomania’s native environment.

Decalcomania in psychiatry and art: Three of the ink-blot cards (top row) included by Swiss psychiatrist Hermann Rorschach (1885-1922) in his Rorschach Test (1927), a projective psychological tool in which subjects' perceptions of inkblots are recorded and then analyzed with psychological interpretation or historical statistical comparison (and now, also AI (artificial intelligence)) and three images from the Pornographic Drawing series by Cornelia Parker (bottom row).

Nor has decalcomania been abandoned by artists, English installation specialist Cornelia Parker (b 1956) producing drawings which overlaid contemporary materials onto surfaces created with the decalcomania process, the best known of which was the series Pornographic Drawing (1996) in which an inky substance extracted from pornographic film material was applied to paper, folded in half and opened again to reveal the sexualised imagery which emerged through the intervention of chance.  Although it’s speculative, had Ms Parker’s work been available and explained to the Nazi defendants at the first Nuremberg Trial (1945-1946) when they were considering the Rorschach Test cards, their responses would likely have been different.  Rudolf Hess (1894–1987; Nazi Deputy Führer 1933-1941) would have been disgusted and become taciturn while Julius Streicher (1885–1946; Nazi Gauleiter of Franconia 1929-1940) would have been stimulated to the point of excitement.

Europe after the Rain II, 1940-1942 (Circa 1941), oil on canvas by Max Ernst.

Regarded as his masterpiece, Europe after the Rain II (often sub-titled “An Abstract, Apocalyptic Landscape”) was intended to evoke feelings of despair, exhaustion, desolation and a fear of the implications of the destructive power of modern, mechanized warfare.  It was a companion work to an earlier to the earlier Europe after the Rain I, (1933), sculpted from plaster and oil on plywood in which Ernst built on a decalcomania base to render an imaginary relief map of Europe.  It was in 1933 Adolf Hitler (1889-1945; Führer (leader) and German head of government 1933-1945 & head of state 1934-1945) gained power in Germany.

Europe after the Rain I, (1933), oil & plaster on plywood by Max Ernst.

Even the physical base of Europe After the Rain I was a piece of surrealist symbolism, the plywood taken from the stage sets used for the film L'Âge d'or (1930) (The Age of Gold or the Golden Age depending on the translator's interpretation).  Directed by Spaniard Luis Buñuel (1900-1983), L'Âge d'or was a film focused on the sexual mores of bourgeois society and a critique of the hypocrisies and contradictions of the Roman Catholic Church's clerical establishment.  While one of France's first "sound films", it was, as was typical during what was a transitional era, told mostly with the use of title cards, the full-screen explanatory texts which appeared between scenes.

Snow Flowers (1929) oil on canvas by means of frottage & grattage by Max Ernst.

Technically, Ernst was an innovator in Decalcomania, in 1925 using the technique of frottage (laying a sheet of paper over a textured surface and rubbing it with charcoal or graphite).  The appeal of this was it imparted the quality of three dimensionality and Ernst liked textured surfaces as passages in a larger composition.  He also employed grattage (frottage’s sister technique) in which an object is placed under a piece of paper, which is then covered with a thin layer of pigment and once the pigment is scraped off, what is revealed is a colorful imprint of the object and its texture.

1969 Chrysler (Australia) VF Valiant Pacer 225 (left), 1980 Porsche 924 Turbo (centre) and cloisonné Scuderia Ferrari fender shield on 1996 Ferrari F355 Spider (right).

There was a time when decals or cars were, by some, looked down upon because they were obviously cheaper than badges made of metal.  That attitude changed for a number of reasons including their use on sexy, high-performance cars, the increasing use of decals on race cars after advertising became universally permitted after 1968 and the advent of plastic badges which, being cheaper to produce and install, soon supplanted metal on all but the most expensive vehicles.  By the mid 1970s even companies such as Porsche routinely applied decals and the Scuderia Ferrari fender shield, used originally on the cars run by the factory racing team, became a popular after-market accessory and within the Ferrari community, there was a clear hierarchy of respectability between thin, “stuck on” printed decals and the more substantial cloisonné items.

A video clip explaining why a Scuderia Ferrari fender shield costs US$14,000 if it's painted in the factory.

However, many of the cloisonné shields were non-authentic (ie not a factory part number), even the most expensive selling for less than US$1000 and there was no obvious way to advertise one had a genuine “made in Maranello” item.  Ferrari’s solution was to offer as a factory option a decalcomania, hand-painted by an artisan in a process said to take about eight hours.  To reassure its consumers (keen students of what the evil Montgomery Burns (of The Simpsons TV cartoon series) calls “price taggery”), the option is advertised (depending on the market) at around US$14,000.

Monospecchio

Monospecchio (pronounced mon-oh-spec-kjo)

The Italian for “one mirror”, a descriptor applied to the early production (1984-1987) Ferrari Testarossas (1984-1991).   

1984: The construct was mono- + specchio.  Mono was from the Ancient Greek, a combining form of μόνος (monos) (alone, only, sole, single), from the Proto-Hellenic mónwos, from the primitive Indo-European mey- (small).  It was related to the Armenian մանր (manr) (slender, small), the Ancient Greek μανός (manós) (sparse, rare), the Middle Low German mone & möne, the West Frisian meun, the Dutch meun, the Old High German muniwa, munuwa & munewa (from which German gained Münne (minnow).  As a prefix, mono- is often found in chemical names to indicate a substance containing just one of a specified atom or group (eg a monohydrate such as carbon monoxide; carbon attached to a single atom of oxygen).  The Italian specchio (mirror, table, chart) was from the Vulgar Latin speclum, a syncopated form of the Classical Latin speculum, the construct being speciō +‎ -culum.  Speciō (observe, watch, look at) was from the From Proto-Italic spekjō, from the primitive Indo-European spéḱyeti which was cognate with the Ancient Greek σκέπτομαι (sképtomai), the Avestan (spasyeiti), and the Sanskrit पश्यति (páśyati).  The suffix –culum was (with anaptyxis) from the Proto-Italic -klom, from the primitive Indo-European -tlom, from -trom.  Despite the resemblance, ōsculum and other diminutive nouns do not contain this suffix which was used to form some nouns derived from verbs, particularly nouns representing tools and instruments.

1957 Ferrari 250 Testa Rossa in Rosso Corsa.

The 250 Testa Rossa was created because rule changes for the 1958 season imposed a 3.0 litre displacement limit, rendering the 3.8 Litre 315 S obsolete.  A 250 Testa Rossa sold in a private sale in 2014 for a reported US$39.8 million, exceeding somewhat the US$16.39 million one achieved at auction in 2011.  The (testra rossa literally “red head” in Italian) was a revival of one the factory had last used on the 1954 500 TR, the visual link to the name the red paint applied to the engines' camshaft covers.  The 250 Testa Rossa was part of the team which contributed to Scudaria Ferrari winning the the 1957 World Sportscar Championship. 

BB & BB:  Ferrari 365 GT4 BB (left) on display at the 1971 Turin Motor Show and Brigitte Bardot, supine, 1968 (right).

Appearing also in Formula One and sports car racing, between 1973-1996 Ferrari to used a flat-12 win a number of road cars.  Pedants insist the engines were really 180^o V12s ("flattened V12" in the engineer's slang) because of a definitional distinction related to the attachment and movement of internal components; the external shape is essentially identical but the factory was in general a bit loose with the nomenclature on which purists like to insist.  The first of the road-going flat-12 Ferraris was the 365 GT4 BB (1973-1984), the “BB” long thought to stand for Berlinetta Boxer but Road & Track in 2018 noted RoadRat's publication of an interview with the BB’s designer, Leonardo Fioravanti (b 1938) who admitted it was named after the actress Brigitte Bardot (b 1934), simply because the staff in Ferrari's design office were as besotted with Mademoiselle Bardot as engineers everywhere; "Berlinetta Boxer" was just a cover story.  There’s an undeniable similarity in the pleasing lines of the two and on the factory website, Ferrari later confirmed the story.  Until then "Berlinetta Boxer" was the orthodoxy although there must have been enough suspicion about for someone to speculate the origin might be bialbero, (literally "twin shaft"), a clipping of bialbero a camme in testa (double overhead camshaft (DOHC)) which was from the slang of Italian mechanics.

1975 Ferrari 365 GT4 BB in Verde Germoglio with satin black lower panels over Nero leather.

The Italian berlinetta translates as “little saloon” and is the diminutive of berlina (sedan) and the 365 GT4 BB in no way resembled a saloon, small or large, Ferrari using the word to describe a two-seat car with a closed cockpit (convertibles are Spiders or Spyders), referred to by most as a coupé.  Nor was the Ferrari’s flat-12 technically a boxer, the boxer configuration one where each pair of opposed pistons move inwards and outwards in unison, the imagery being that of a pugilist, ritualistically thumping together their gloves prior to a bout.  The Ferrari unit instead used the same arrangement as a conventional V12, each pair of pistons sharing a crankpin whereas as true boxer has a separate crankpin for each piston.  This is one practical reason why boxer engines tend not to have many cylinders, the need for additional crankpins adding to weight & length.  Thus the earlier flat-16s, the Coventry Climax FWMW (1963-1965) intended for Formula One and the unit Porsche developed in 1971 for the Can-Am and tested in chassis 917-027 weren't boxers although bulk was anyway a factor in both proving abortive, Porsche instead turbo-charging their flat-12 and Coventry Climax giving up entirely, the FWMW having never left the test-bench.  Despite it all, just about everybody calls the 365 GT4 BB “the Boxer” and its engine a “flat-12”, the factory clearly unconcerned and while cheerfully acknowledging the technical differences, their documents refer to it variously as a “boxer”, a “180^o v12”, a “flat-12” & a “boxer-type” engine.

1985 Ferrari Testarossa “monospecchio-monodado” in Rosso Corsa over Beige leather.  The early cars were fitted with centre-lock magnesium-alloy wheels, chosen for their lightness but, responding to feedback from the dealer network, as a running-change during 1988, these were substituted for units with a conventional five-bolt design.  The centre-lock wheels were called monodado (one nut) while the five lug-types were the cinquedado (five nut) and because of the time-line, while all the monospecchio cars are also monodado, only some of the monodaddi are monospecchi.

When first shown at the Paris Motor Show in 1984, two features of the Testarossa which attracted much comment were the distinctive strakes which ran almost from the front of the door to the radiator air-intakes ahead of the rear wheel arch and the single, high-mounted external mirror (on the left or right depending on the market into which it was sold).  The preferred term is the native “monospecchio” (one mirror) although in the English speaking-world it has also been called the “flying mirror", rendered sometimes in Italian as “specchio volante” (a ordinary wing mirror being a “specchietto laterale esterno” (external side mirror), proving most things sound better in Italian.  The unusual placement and blatant asymmetry of the monospecchi cars annoyed some and delighted others, the unhappy more disgruntled still if they noticed the vent on right of the front spoiler not being matched by one to the left.  It was there to feed the air-conditioning’s radiator and while such offset singularities are not unusual in cars, many manufacturers create a matching fake as an aesthetic device: the functionalists at Ferrari did not.

Monospecchio: Lindsay Lohan selfies, one mirror at a time.

The regulatory environment in various jurisdictions was a matter of great significance in the Testarossa’s development.  None of the versions of the Berlinetta Boxer had ever been certified for sale in the US which had been Ferrari’s most lucrative market and a core objective was for the Testarossa to be able easily to meet the current & projected regulations in places like the US and EU (European Union) where rules were most strict.  The number of Boxers which privately had been imported into the US to be subjected to the so-called “federalization” process was an indication demand there existed for a mid-engined, 12 cylinder Ferrari.

1985 Ferrari Testarossa “monospecchio-monodado” in Rosso Corsa over Beige leather.  On left-hand-drive (LHD) cars the asymmetric mirror and intake for the air-conditioner's radiator were both on the left; on right-hand-drive (RHD) models the mirror shifted to the other side.

One piece of legislation which soon attracted attention was the EU’s stipulations about “full rearward visibility” in the side-view mirrors.  With conventionally shaped automobiles this is usually unchallenging for designers but the Testarossa had a very wide, ascending waist-line and the sheer size of the rear bodywork was necessitated by the twin radiators which sat behind the side-strakes.  As the team interpreted the rule, the elevation of the mirror was the only way to conform but the bureaucrats proved untypically helpful, not changing the rule but providing an interpretation which would make possible the installation of the mirror at the traditional level.  That alone may have been enough to convince the factory to change but there had also been complaints, many from the US, that the monospecchio restricted the vision of oncoming traffic and many missed having a passenger-side mirror, remarking too on the difficulties found when trying rapidly to adapt to the placement, few owners using a Testarossa as their only car.  Thus was taken the decision to phase in the fitting of dual mirrors, mounted in a conventional position at the base of the A pillars.  Shown at the 1986 Geneva Motor Show, the first examples of the new arrangement were those built for European sale, a handful bound for the US revised initially in 1987 with a single, low-mounted mirror before later gaining the same dual arrangement as those sold in Europe.

1959 MGA Twin Cam Roadster with central, dash mounted mirror.  In the era, side-mirrors tended to be factory options, dealer-fitter or from the after-market.

Historically, there was nothing unusual about a car having only a driver's side mirror and while that fitting wasn't common until the 1950s, it would not be for some two decades after that before, in the West, two became (more or less) standard.  Prior to that, on passenger vehicles, it wasn't uncommon for a passenger's side mirror to be seen only on vehicles used for towing.  The usefulness of mirrors had been understood in the early days of motoring and, three-quarters of a century before the debut of the Testarossa, had been controversial, US racing driver Ray Harroun (1879–1968) fitting one to the Marmon Wasp with he would win the inaugural Indianapolis 500 (1911).  The fitting of a rear-view mirror was not against the rules but what Harroun did was use it as a substitute for the observer (styled the “riding mechanic”) who race regulations required to be seated alongside the driver.  His argument prevailed and the observers, victims of technological change, began to vanish from the closed circuits although to this day (variously as mechanics, co-drivers, navigators etc) they remain a part of long-distance events on public roads.

An earlier monospecchio: 1964 Maserati 5000 GT (103-062) by Allemano with dash-mounted rear-view mirror and driver's side “bullet” door mirror.  Between 1959-1966, 34 Maserati 5000 GTs were built, 22 by Allemano, 4 by Touring, 3 by Fura, 2 by Monterosa, 1 by Bertone, 1 by Ghia and 1 by Scaglietti (Pininfarina).  As far as is known, the Allemano 103-062 was the only one factory-fitted with a side-mirror and because these are now museum pieces rarely driven on the road, restorers tend to remove from 5000 GTs any after-market mirrors.

The Cartoon Network's Powderpuff Girls (2016-2019, left) and their inspiration, Stratton Art Deco style Poppy Flower Powder compact (1970s, centre & right (on doily)).

Women are of course better acquainted with mirrors than (most) men and even though phones now include a “mirror app” (ie the front facing camera), many still carry in the apparently compulsory handbag a “compact” (a slim folding case (the internal side of the lid featuring a mirror) containing a powder-puff and pressed face-powder (finely milled powder compressed into what appears a solid cake form but is not chemically a solid in the rigid sense but rather a mechanically bound aggregate of particles)).  Compact carrier (and holder of the world's first WSR (water speed record) & the women's world LSR (land speed record)) Dorothy Levitt (1882–1922) well understood the value of a mirror and in her book The Woman and the Car: A Chatty Little Handbook for All Women who Motor or who Want to Motor (1906) she recommended her fellow “motorinas” always to keep in some convenient spot a small hand-mirror which should be “held aloft from time to time” to afford a view of what lay behind.  In the UK, fixed mirrors began to appear on automobiles in 1914 and manufacturers used various placements including the now familiar mounting at the top-centre of the windscreen as well as on the dashboard, in the middle of the bonnet (hood), on the fenders and on the door.  While a mirror of some type was in some cases required by law (usually on the dash or above), not until well into the post-war years would regulators get interested in door mirrors.  Beginning in the 1970s, many door mirrors visually became “A-pillar mirrors” after the Mercedes-Benz R107 (1971-1989) popularized the new location.

1968 Toyota 2000GT (1967-1970) with fendā mirā.

Some jurisdictions however not only mandated twin mirrors but also their placement, cars produced for the JDM (Japanese domestic market) were between 1952 and 1983 required to have a matching set of フェンダーミラー (fendā mirā (an adaptation of the US -English “fender mirror”, known in the UK as “wing mirrors”.)) and these sat about mid-way between the base of the A-pillar and front bumper bar.  They provided a good rearward view but did have the disadvantage of not being easily adjustable by a driver although some very expensive models were fitted with small electric motors for remote control.  The law was in 1983 liberalized only because Western manufacturers had argued the refusal to allow the door-mounted mirrors (which had by then long been elsewhere the standard) was a “non-tariff trade barrier”.  This was one foreign intrusion into Japanese life which attracted no complaint, JDM consumers overwhelmingly choosing the door mirrors when offered the option and soon the fendā mirā were phased-out, pleasing the manufacturers who no longer had to have different fittings for their RoW (rest of the world) production.

Fendā mirā old and new in Tokyo taxi livery: Toyota Crown Comfort (left) and Toyota JPN (right).  As well as the white gloves, one tradition which has been inherited by the new taxis is the use of "car doilies" (more correctly antimacassars).

The one exception was the taxi fleet and even now, fendā mirā continue to be fitted to most JDM vehicles built for the taxi market because not only do they provide a wider vista, they also protrude less from the body, something of some significance in the crowded traffic plying the often narrow roads in Japanese cities; for taxi drivers, every saved millimetre can be precious.  Sociologists explain the there is also a cultural imperative, the fender mirrors allowing customers to feel a greater sense of privacy because drivers can use the mirrors without turning their head toward the passenger seat; such a glance could be misconstrued and face could be lost.  Traditionalists, some Japanese taxi drivers still wear the white gloves the companies once required but technological change may threaten the fendā mirā because Nissan no longer produces its traditional sedan for the taxi market and while since 2017 the hybrid Toyota JPN (with fendā mirā) has become the taxi of choice, some operators are using the company's Prius and its shape really permits only door mirrors.  Despite Nissan withdrawing from the market, in the US the slang "Datsun mirrors" still is used to describe the type and there is a small but dedicated cult which retro-fits fendā mirā for that "authentic" Japanese look.   

1989 Ferrari Testarossa "doppiospecchio-cinquedado" in Giallo over Nero leather.

The distinctive side strakes were added because of a unique FRG (Federal Republic of Germany, the old West Germany) regulation which specified the maximum dimensions of apertures, the purpose said to be to prevent a child's head from entering such an opening during an accident.  Thus the fins but as well as meeting the rules, they were designed to take advantage of the properties of fluid dynamics, the air-flow being made less "wavy" and thus reducing turbulence, two vertical fins added to direct lateral air-flow directly into the radiators.  The engineering of the strakes was sound and most thought them aesthetically well-executed but they created such a stir that unfortunately, on both side of the Atlantic, a number of imitators quickly rendered usually fake versions in fibreglass, gluing them to Jaguars, BMWs, Mercedes-Benz and such.  Almost all were applied to cars with front-mounted radiators but this was the 1980s and a subset of the market was receptive.

Caveat emptor: 1986 Ferrari Testarossa in Rosso Corsa over Nero leather in "volante doppiospecchio-monodado" trim.

Being Ferraris with a certain cachet, the monospecchio cars attract additional interest and inevitably there is fakery and folklore.  There exists the odd early Testarossa with either double-high or double-low (doppiospecchio) mirrors but these are assumed to be modifications installed either by dealers or owners and there was at a time, a lot of it about.  It wasn’t a simple job, requiring one or two mirrors, window frames and support assemblies and thus always cost somewhere in four figures but, like those who once converted their now precious 1963 split-window Chevrolet Corvettes to 1964’s single piece of glass lest they be thought driving last year’s model, there were those who didn’t wish to look outdated (ironically, the 1963 coupés are now among the more coveted of the breed and there are later C2 coupés which were at some point "backdated").  Also, with over 7,000 sold, the Testarossa was, by Ferrari’s standards at the time, almost mass-produced and in the aftermath of the severe recession of the early 1990s a glut emerged which for years depressed prices; originality not then the fetish it would later become, sometimes ill-advised modifications became uncommon.  Still, the factory was known to accommodate special requests from good customers so if a doppiospecchio with high mounts does show up, accompanied with the vital proof of authenticity, it would add a notch of desirability.  Market support for Ferrari’s flat-12 ecosystem (Boxer, Testarossa & 512 TR) is now healthy and, while not matching the buoyancy of the pre-1973 cars (and certainly not the 206 & 246 Dinos which all but the most pedantic now accept as "Ferraris"), operates well into US$ six figures, the quirk of the monospecchio cars making them much fancied.

Simulacrum

Simulacrum (pronounced sim-yuh-ley-kruhm)

(1) A slight, unreal, or superficial likeness or semblance; a physical image or representation of a deity, person, or thing.

(2) An effigy, image, or representation; a thing which has the appearance or form of another thing, but not its true qualities; a thing which simulates another thing; an imitation, a semblance; a thing which has a similarity to the appearance or form of another thing, but not its true qualities

(3) Used loosely, any representational image of something (a nod to the Latin source).

1590–1600: A learned borrowing of the Latin simulācrum (likeness, image) and a dissimilation of simulaclom, the construct being simulā(re) (to pretend, to imitate), + -crum (the instrumental suffix which was a variant of -culum, from the primitive Indo-European –tlom (a suffix forming instrument nouns).  The Latin simulāre was the present active infinitive of simulō (to represent, simulate) from similis (similar to; alike), ultimately from the primitive Indo-European sem- (one; together).  In English, the idea was always of “something having the mere appearance of another”, hence the conveyed notion of a “a specious imitation”, the predominant sense early in the nineteenth century while later it would be applied to works or art (most notably in portraiture) judged, “blatant flattery”.  In English, simulacrum replaced the late fourteenth century semulacre which had come from the Old French simulacre.  As well as the English simulacrum, the descendents from the Latin simulācrum include the French simulacre, the Spanish simulacro and the Polish symulakrum.  Simulacrum is a noun and simulacral is an adjective; the noun plural is simulacrums or simulacra (a learned borrowing from Latin simulācra).  Although neither is listed, by lexicographers, in the world of art criticism, simulacrally would be a tempting adverb and simulacrumism an obvious noun.  The comparative is more simulacral, the suplerative most simulacral.

Simulacrum had an untroubled etymology didn’t cause a problem until French post-structuralists found a way to add layers of complication.  The sociologist & philosopher Jean Baudrillard (1929-2007) wrote a typically dense paper (The Precession of Simulacra (1981)) explaining simulacra were “…something that replaces reality with its representation… Simulation is no longer that of a territory, a referential being, or a substance. It is the generation by models of a real without origin or reality: a hyperreal.... It is no longer a question of imitation, nor duplication, nor even parody. It is a question of substituting the signs of the real for the real.” and his examples ranged from Disneyland to the Watergate scandal.  One can see his point but it seems only to state the obvious and wicked types like Karl Marx (1818-1883) and Joseph Goebbels (1897-1975; Nazi propaganda minister 1933-1945) said it in fewer words.  To be fair, Baudrillard’s point was more about the consequences of simulacra than the process of their creation and the social, political and economic implication of states or (more to the point) corporations attaining the means to “replace” reality with a constructed representation were profound.  The idea has become more relevant (and certainly more discussed) in the post-fake news world in which clear distinctions between that which is real and its imitations have become blurred and there’s an understanding that through many channels of distribution, increasingly, audiences are coming to assume nothing is real.

Mannerist but not quite surrealist: Advertising for the 1961 Pontiac Bonneville Sports Coupe (left) with graphical art by Art Fitzpatrick (1919–2015) & Van Kaufman (1918-1995) and a (real) 1961 Pontiac Bonneville Sports Coupe (right) fitted with Pontiac's much admired 8-lug wheels, their exposed centres actually the brake drum to which the rim (in the true sense of the word) directly was bolted.

The work of Fitzpatrick & Kaufman is the best remembered of the 1960s advertising by the US auto industry and their finest creations were those for General Motors’ (GM) Pontiac Motor Division (PMD).  The pair rendered memorable images but certainly took some artistic licence and created what were even then admired as simulacrums rather than taken too literally.  While PMD’s “Year of the Wide-Track” (introduced in 1959) is remembered as a slogan, it wasn’t just advertising shtick, the decision taken to increase the track of Pontiacs by 5 inches (127 mm) because the 1958 frames were used for the much wider 1959 bodies, rushed into production because the sleek new Chryslers had rendered the old look frumpy and suddenly old-fashioned.  It certainly enhanced the look but the engineering was sound, the wider stance also genuinely improved handling.  Just to make sure people got the message about the “wide” in the “Wide Track” theme, their artwork deliberately exaggerated the width of the cars they depicted and while it was the era of “longer, lower, wider” (and PMD certainly did their bit in that), things never got quite that wide.  Had they been, the experience of driving would have felt something like steering an aircraft carrier's flight deck.

1908 Cadillac Model S: The standard 56 inch (1422 mm) track (left) and the 61 inch (1549 mm) "wide track" (right), the more "sure-footed" stance designed for rutted rural roads.  

Pontiac made much of the “Year of the Wide Track” and it worked so well “wide track” would be an advertising hook for much of the 1960s although the idea wasn’t new, Cadillac in 1908 offering a wide track option for their Model S.  While the four cylinder Cadillacs were coming to be offered with increasingly large and elaborate coachwork, to increase the appeal of the single cylinder, 98 cubic inch (1.6 litre) Model S for rural buyers, there was the option of a 61 inch (1549 mm) track, 5 inches (127 mm) wider than standard.  The extra width was designed exactly to match the ruts in the roads of the rural Southwest, cut by generations of horse-drawn wagons.  Though a thoughtful gesture, times were changing and the 1908 Model S would prove the last single cylinder Cadillac, the corporation the next season standardizing the line around the Model Thirty which upon release would use the 226 cubic inch (3.7 litre) four-cylinder engine although in a harbinger of the 1950s and 1960s, it would be enlarged to 255 cubic inches (4.2 litre) for 1910, 286 cubic inches (4.7 litres) for 1911-1912 and finally 366 cubic inches (6.0 litres) for 1914.  For 1915, there was another glimpse of Cadillac’s path in the twentieth century with the introduction of the Model 51, fitted with the company’s first V8 with a displacement of 314 cubic inches (5.1 litres).  As the photographs suggest, nor was there anything new in the luxurious tufted leather upholstery Detroit in the 1970s came to adore, the style of seating used in the early (“brass era”), up-market automobiles taken straight from gentlemen’s clubs.

Fitzpatrick & Kaufman’s graphic art for the 1967 Pontiac Catalina Convertible advertising campaign.  One irony in the pair being contracted by PMD is that for most of the 1960s, Pontiacs were distinguished by some of the industry’s more imaginative and dramatic styling ventures and needed the artists' simulacral tricks less than some other manufacturers (and the Chryslers of the era come to mind, the solid basic engineering below cloaked sometimes in truly bizarre or just dull  bodywork).

This advertisement from 1961 hints also at something often not understood about what was later acknowledged as the golden era for both the US auto industry and their advertising agencies.  Although the big V8 cars of the post-war years are now remembered mostly for the collectable, high-powered, high value survivors with large displacement and induction systems using sometimes two four-barrel or three two-barrel carburetors, such things were a tiny fraction of total production and most V8 engines were tuned for a compromise between power (actually, more to the point for most: torque) and economy, a modest single two barrel sitting atop most and after the brief but sharp recession of 1958, even the Lincoln Continental, aimed at the upper income demographic, was reconfigured thus in a bid to reduce the prodigious thirst of the 430 cubic inch (7.0 litre) MEL (Mercury-Edsel-Lincoln) V8.  Happily for country and oil industry, the good times returned and by 1963 the big Lincolns were again guzzling gas four barrels at a time (the MEL in 1966 even enlarged to a 462 (7.6)) although there was the courtesy of the engineering trick of off-centering slightly the carburetor’s location so the primary two throats (the other two activated only under heavy throttle load) sat directly in the centre for optimal smoothness of operation.  Despite today’s historical focus on the displacement, horsepower and burning rubber of the era, there was then much advertising copy about (claimed) fuel economy, though while then as now, YMMV (your mileage may vary), the advertising standards of the day didn’t demand such a disclaimer.

Portrait of Oliver Cromwell (1650), oil on canvas by Samuel Cooper (1609-1672).

Even if it’s something ephemeral, politicians are often sensitive about representations of their image but concerns are heightened when it’s a portrait which, often somewhere hung on public view, will long outlive them.  Although in the modern age the proliferation and accessibility of the of the photographic record has meant portraits no longer enjoy an exclusivity in the depiction of history, there’s still something about a portrait which conveys, however misleadingly, a certain authority.  That’s not to suggest the classic representational portraits have always been wholly authentic, a good many of those of the good and great acknowledged to have been painted by “sympathetic” artists known for their subtleties in rendering their subjects variously more slender, youthful or hirsute as the raw material required.  Probably few were like Oliver Cromwell (1599–1658; Lord Protector of the Commonwealth 1653-1658) who told Samuel Cooper to paint him “warts and all”.  The artist obliged.

Randolph Churchill (1932), oil on canvas by Philip de László (left) and Randolph Churchill’s official campaign photograph (1935, right).

There have been artists for whom a certain fork of the simulacrum has provided a long a lucrative career.  Philip Alexius László de Lombos (1869–1937 and known professionally as Philip de László) was a UK-based Hungarian painter who was renowned for his sympathetic portraiture of royalty, the aristocracy and anyone else able to afford his fee (which for a time-consuming large, full-length works could be as much as 3000 guineas).  His reputation as a painter suffered after his death because he was dismissed by some as a “shameless flatterer” but in more recent years he’s been re-evaluated and there’s now much admiration for his eye and technical prowess, indeed, some have noted he deserves to be regarded more highly than many of those who sat for him.  His portrait of Randolph Churchill (1911-1968) (1932, left) has, rather waspishly, been described by some authors as something of an idealized simulacrum and the reaction of the journalist Alan Brien (1925-2008) was typical.  He met Churchill only in when his dissolute habits had inflicted their ravages and remarked that the contrast was startling, “…as if Dorian Gray had changed places with his picture for one day of the year.”  Although infamously obnoxious, on this occasion Churchill responded with good humor, replying “Yes, it is hard to believe that was me, isn’t it?  I was a joli garçon (pretty boy) in those days.”  That may have been true for as his official photograph for the 1935 Wavertree by-election (where he stood as an “Independent Conservative” on a platform of rearmament and opposition to Indian Home Rule) suggests, the artist may have been true to his subject.  Neither portrait now photograph seems to have helped politically and his loss at Wavertree was one of several he would suffer in his attempts to be elected to the House of Commons.

Portrait of Gina Rinehart (née Hancock, b 1954) by Western Aranda artist Vincent Namatjira (b 1983), National Gallery of Australia (NGA) (left) and photograph of Gina Rinehart (right).

While some simulacrums can flatter to deceive, others are simply unflattering.  That was what Gina Rinehard (described habitually as “Australia’s richest woman”) felt about two (definitely unauthorized) portraits of which are on exhibition at the NGA.  Accordingly, she asked they be removed from view and “permanently disposed of”, presumably with the same fiery finality with which bonfires consumed portraits of Theodore Roosevelt (TR, 1858–1919; US president 1901-1909) and Winston Churchill (1875-1965; UK prime-minister 1940-1945 & 1951-1955), both works despised by their subjects.  Unfortunately for Ms Reinhart, her attempted to save the nation from having to look at what she clearly considered bad art created only what is in law known as the “Streisand effect”, named after an attempt in 2003 by the singer Barbra Streisand (b 1942) to suppress publication of a photograph showing her cliff-top residence in Malibu, taken originally to document erosion of the California coast.  All that did was generate a sudden interest in the previously obscure photograph and ensure it went viral, overnight reaching an audience of millions as it spread around the web.  Ms Reinhart’s attempt had a similar consequence: while relatively few had attended Mr Namatjira’s solo Australia in Colour exhibition at the NGA and publicity had been minimal, the interest generated by the story saw the “offending image” printed in newspapers, appear on television news bulletins (they’re still a thing with a big audience) and of course on many websites.  The “Streisand effect” is regarded as an example “reverse psychology”, the attempt to conceal something making it seem sought by those who would otherwise not have been interested or bothered to look.  People should be careful in what they wish for.

Side by side: Portraits of Barak Obama (2011) and Donald Trump (2018), both oil on canvas by Sarah A Boardman, on permanent display, Gallery of Presidents, Third Floor, Rotunda, State Capitol Building, Denver, Colorado.

In March 2025 it was reported Donald Trump (b 1946; US president 2017-2021 and since 2025) was not best pleased with a portrait of him hanging in Colorado’s State Capitol; he damned the work as “purposefully distorted” and demanded Governor Jared Polis (b 1975; governor (Democratic) of Colorado since 2019) immediately take it down.  In a post on his Truth Social platform, Mr Trump said: “Nobody likes a bad picture or painting of themselves, but the one in Colorado, in the State Capitol, put up by the Governor, along with all the other Presidents, was purposefully distorted to a level that even I, perhaps, have never seen before.  The artist also did President Obama and he looks wonderful, but the one on me is truly the worst. She must have lost her talent as she got older.  In any event, I would much prefer not having a picture than having this one, but many people from Colorado have called and written to complain. In fact, they are actually angry about it!  I am speaking on their behalf to the radical left Governor, Jared Polis, who is extremely weak on crime, in particular with respect to Tren de Aragua, which practically took over Aurora (Don’t worry, we saved it!), to take it down. Jared should be ashamed of himself!”

At the unveiling in 2019 it was well-received by the reverential Republicans assembled and if Fox News had an art critic (the Lord forbid), she would have approved but presumably that would now be withdrawn and denials issued it was ever conferred.  

Intriguingly, it was one of Mr Trump’s political fellow-travellers (Kevin Grantham (b 1970; state senator (Republican, Colorado) 2011-2019) who had in 2018 stated a GoFundMe page to raise the funds needed to commission the work, the US$10,000 pledged, it is claimed, within “a few hours”.  Ms Boardman’s painting must have received the approval of the Colorado Senate Republicans because it was them who in 2019 hosted what was described as the “non-partisan unveiling event” when first the work was displayed hanging next to one of Mr Trump’s first presidential predecessor (Barack Obama (b 1961; US president 2009-2017), another of Ms Boardman’s commissions.  Whether or not it’s of relevance in the matter of now controversial portrait may be a matter for professional critics to ponder but on her website the artist notes she has “…always been passionate about painting portraits, being particularly intrigued by the depth and character found deeper in her subjects… believing the ultimate challenge is to capture the personality, character and soul of an individual in a two-dimensional format...”  Her preferred models “…are carefully chosen for their enigmatic personality and uniqueness...” and she admits some of her favorite subjects those “whose faces show the tracks of real life.”

Variations on a theme of simulacra: Four AI (artificial intelligence) generated images of Lindsay Lohan by Stable Diffusion.  The car depicted (centre right) is a Mercedes-Benz SL (R107, 1971-1989), identifiable as a post-1972 North American model because of the disfiguring bumper bar. 

So a simulacrum is a likeness of something which is recognizably of the subject (maybe with the odd hint) and not of necessity “good” or “bad”; just not exactly realistic.  Of course with techniques of lighting or angles, even an unaltered photograph can similarly mislead but the word is used usually of art or behavior such as “a simulacrum or pleasure” or “a ghastly simulacrum of a smile”.  In film and biography of course, the simulacrum is almost obligatory and the more controversial the subject, the more simulacral things are likely to be: anyone reading AJP Taylor’s study (1972) of the life of Lord Beaverbrook (Maxwell Aitken, 1879-1964) would be forgiven for wondering how anyone could have said a bad word about the old chap.  All that means there’s no useful antonym of simulacrum because one really isn’t needed (there's replica, duplicate etc but the sense is different) while the synonyms are many, the choice of which should be dictated by the meaning one wishes to denote and they include: dissimilarity, unlikeness, archetype, clone, counterfeit, effigy, ersatz, facsimile, forgery, image, impersonation, impression, imprint, likeness, portrait, representation, similarity, simulation, emulation, fake, faux & study.  Simulacrum remains a little unusual in that while technically it’s a neutral descriptor, it’s almost always used with a sense of the negative or positive.