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 Republicans assembled.  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 mush 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.

Astroturf

Astroturf (pronounced as-truh-turf)

(1) A trademarked (as AstroTurf) brand of carpet-like covering made of vinyl and nylon to resemble turf, used for athletic fields, decks, patios and such (initial capital).

(2) The widely used generic term for artificial grass (no initial capital).

(3) To fake the appearance of popular support for something, such as a cause or product, the use based on the idea of faking “grassroots support” from the public the way AstroTurf is a “fake grass” (although some insist it’s really “faux grass” because usually there’s no attempt to claim the artificial product is natural).

1966: The construct was astro- + turf, the product name an allusion to the Astrodome, the baseball stadium in Houston, Texas, where first the product was laid at scale.  The astro- prefix was from the Ancient Greek ἄστρον (ástron) (celestial body), from ἀστήρ (astḗr) (star).  It was used by the astronomers of Antiquity to refer to celestial bodies which they classified as (1) fixed stars & (2) wandering stars (planets) as well as of space generally.  Turf (in the sense of a layer of earth covered with grass was from the Middle English turf & torf, from the Old English turf (turf, sod, soil, piece of grass covered earth, greensward), from the Proto-West Germanic turb, from the Proto-Germanic turbz (turf, lawn), from the primitive Indo-European derbh (tuft, grass).  It was cognate with the Dutch turf (turf), the Middle Low German torf (peat, turf) (from which German gained Torf and German Low German Torf), the Swedish torv (turf), the Norwegian torv (turf), the Icelandic torf (turf), the Russian трава (trava) (grass) and the Sanskrit दर्भ (darbhá) (a kind of grass) & दूर्वा (dū́rvā) (bent grass).  Astroturf & astroturfing are nouns & verbs, astroturfer is a noun and astroturfed is a verb & adjective; the noun plural is astroturfs.  AstroTurf is a registered trademark.

AstroTurf being laid in preparation for the first baseball game to be played in Veterans Stadium, Philadelphia, 1971.  The AstroTurf was in 2001 replaced with NexTurf and the stadium was demolished in 2006.

The use of “Astrodome” as the name for the baseball stadium in Houston, Texas, was an allusion to city's association with the US space program, a link not wholly unrelated to Texan Lyndon Johnson (LBJ, 1908–1973; US president 1963-1969), while vice-president, being appointed by John Kennedy (JFK, 1917–1963; US president 1961-1963) to assume nominal responsibility for the program; Houston became home to NASA's (National Aeronautics and Space Administration) Manned Spacecraft Center (now the Johnson Space Center).  Built in the early 1960s, the Astrodome was the world’s first multi-purpose, domed sports and even before the new name was unveiled, Houston was already widely known as “Space City” and when the structure was completed in 1965, some had assume it would be called the “Space City Stadium” but most seemed to agree Astrodome was a better choice and the city’s baseball team was the same year renamed the Houston Astros.  Dating from the early sixteenth century, dome was from the Middle French domme & dome (a town-house; a dome, a cupola) (which persists in modern French as dôme), from the Provençal doma, from the Italian duomo (cathedral), from the Medieval Latin domus (ecclesiae; literally “house (of the church)”), a calque of the Ancient Greek οἶκος τῆς ἐκκλησίας (oîkos tês ekklēsías).

Cats are not fooled by AstroTurf but are pragmatic.

AstroTurf is a trademarked brand name for a type of artificial surface which emulates the appearance of grass and to various degrees, also the “feel and behavior”.  When referring to the commercial product, the two upper-case characters should be used but (like Hoover & hoover, Xerox & xerox etc) the word has come frequently to be used as a generic term for any artificial turf and in these instances no initial capital should be used and style guides anyway recommend that to avoid confusion, a term such as “artificial turf” is preferred.  When used of the practice of faking the appearance of popular support for something, no initial capital should appear.  Because Astroturf is “fake grass”, when used in slang, the inference is always negative, especially in relation to politics and unethical marketing.  AstroTurf has changed much in the sixty-odd years of its existence with the green color about the only constant, advances in chemistry and computing meaning the surface now is more durable, cheaper to produce and more “grass-like” in its behaviour.  When first patented in 1965 it was sold as “ChemGrass” which, in retrospect, sounds like a bad choice but in the mid-1960s, as a word-forming element. “chem-” didn’t carry quite the negative connotations which later became so associated.  It was rebranded as AstroTurf in 1966 to tie in with opening of the Houston Astrodome stadium.

The use of “astroturf” as a slang term meaning “to fake the appearance of popular support for something, such as a cause or product” emerged in the last days of the 1990s although the origin of the use of the word in this context has been traced to 1985 when then Senator (Democratic, Texas) Lloyd Bentsen (1921–2006; US Secretary of the Treasury 1993-1994) used the word to distinguish between “real mail from real people” and the “mountain of cards and letters” sent to his office in a campaign organized by the insurance industry: “…a fellow from Texas can tell the difference between grass roots and AstroTurf... this is generated mail.”  Lloyd Bentsen is remembered also for the most memorable retort (which may have been rehearsed) line from the 1988 presidential election in which he was the Democratic Party’s nominee for vice president.  In a debate with the Republican’s Dan Quayle (b 1947; vice president of the United States 1989-1993), he responded to Mr Quayle comparing himself to John Kennedy (JFK, 1917–1963; US president 1961-1963) by saying: “Senator, I served with Jack Kennedy.  I knew Jack Kennedy.  Jack Kennedy was a friend of mine.  Senator, you're no Jack Kennedy.”  The other coincidental link between the two candidates was that in the 1970 mid-term congressional elections. Bentsen defeated George HW Bush (George XLI, 1924-2018; US president 1989-1993) for a Texas senate seat and it was Dan Quayle Bush choose as a running mate in his successful 1988 presidential campaign.

One of the internet’s more inexplicable juxtapositions; even the poster admitted there was nothing to link Lindsay Lohan with Coca-Cola drink AstroTurf cozies.

The senator’s reference to the “mountain of cards and letters” as early as 1985 is an indication the technique predates the internet and historians have identified examples from Antiquity which suggest the practice is likely as old as politics itself but what the internet did was offer the possibility of scaling campaigns to a global scale at a lower (sometimes marginal or even zero) unit cost.  When done, it called astroturfing those coordinating such things are astroturfer.  Astroturfers are, like scammers in this calling, engaged in a constant arms race against those who detect and expose the tactic and the dramatic rise in the use of AI bots (artificial intelligence (ro)bots) has made the detection process simultaneously both easier (because at this stage it’s still a relatively simple matter for one algorithm to detect another and more challenging because of the extraordinary rise in volume.  It’s not clear how many social media accounts are fake (run by people or bots generally receiving a payment for each post not deleted by the gatekeepers) and certainly it’s not something the platforms seem anxious to discuss although they will sometimes disclose how many have been deleted if some form of astroturfing has been especially blatant or egregious.  More subtle are the “shadow organizations” set up by the usual suspects (fossil fuel companies, extractive miners, big polluters, political parties etc) which can even have bricks & mortar offices and paid staff.  The purpose of these outfits is to engage in controversial debates and attempt to both “nudge” things in the direction sought by those providing the funding and create the impression certain views enjoy wider support than may be the reality.

1996 Daihatsu Midget with custom AstroTurf carpets.

The Daihatsu Midget began life as a single-seater, three wheel mini-truck (1957-1972) powered by a 250cm³ (15 cubic inch) single cylinder, two-stroke engine although some were built also with a 305 cm³ (19 cubic inch) unit which may in the vernacular be thought of as the “big block”.  Produced under licence in several nations in the Far East, it’s still produced in Thailand where its compact dimensions, remarkable load capacity and economy of operation make it uniquely suited to confined urban environments.  Daihatsu revived the Midget name for a four-wheel version which was produced between 1996-2001, manufactured under the “Kei Car” (a clipping of kei-jidōsha (軽自動車 (light automobile)) rules which limit mass, external dimensions and restrict displacement to 660 cm³ (40 cubic inches).  In a sign of the times, these diminutive Midgets (surely an irresistible tautology in the Kei Car business) were available with options like four-wheel drive and air conditioning.

Malachite

Malachite (pronounced mal-uh-kahyt)

(1) In mineralogy, a bright-green monoclinic mineral, occurring as a mass of crystals (an aggregate).  It manifests typically with a smooth or botryoidal (grape-shaped) surface and, after cutting & polishing, is used in ornamental articles and jewelry.  It’s often concentrically banded in different shades of green, the contrast meaning that sometimes lends the substance the appearance of being a variegated green & black.  Malachite is found usually in veins in proximity to the mineral azurite in copper deposits.  The composition is hydrated copper carbonate; the chemical formula is Cu₂CO₃(OH)₂ and the crystal structure is monoclinic.

(2) A ceramic ware made in imitation of this (in jewelry use, “malachite” is used often as a modifier).

(3) In mineralogy, as pseudomalachite, a mineral containing copper, hydrogen, oxygen, and phosphorus.

(4) In mineralogy, as azurite-malachite, a naturally-occurring mixture of azurite and malachite

(5) In organic chemistry, as malachite green, a toxic chemical used as a dye, as a treatment for infections in fish (when diluted) and as a bacteriological stain.

(6) Of a colour spectrum, ranging from olive-taupe to a mild to deeply-rich (at times tending to the translucent) green, resembling instances in the range in which the mineral is found.  In commercial use, the interpretation is sometimes loose and some hues are also listed as “malachite green”).

1350-1400: From the Middle French malachite, from the Old French, from the Latin molochītēs, from the Ancient Greek malachitis (lithos) (mallow (stone)) & molochîtis (derivative of molóchē, a variant of maláchē), from μολόχη (molókhē) (mallow; leaf of the mallow plant).  It replaced the Middle English melochites, from the Middle French melochite, from the Latin molochītis.  Malachite is a noun & adjective; the noun plural is malachites.

A pair of Malachite & Onyx inlay cufflinks in 925 Sterling Silver (ie 92.5% pure silver & 7.5% other metals), Mexico, circa 1970.

Although in wide use as a gemstone, technically malachite is copper ore and thus a “secondary mineral” of copper, the stone forming when copper minerals interact with different chemicals (carbonated water, limestone et al.  For this reason, geologists engaged in mineral exploration use malachite as a “marker” (a guide to the likelihood of the nearby presence of copper deposits in commercial quantities).  It’s rare for malachite to develop in isolation and it’s often found in aggregate with azurite, a mineral of similar composition & properties.  Visually, malachite & azurite are similar in their patterning and distinguished by color; azurite a deep blue, malachite a deep green.  Because the slight chemical difference between the two makes azurite less stable, malachite does sometimes replace it, resulting in a “pseudomorph”.  Although there is a range, unlike some minerals, malachite is always green and the lustrous, smooth surface with the varied patterning when cut & polished has for millennia made it a popular platform for carving, the products including al work, jewelry and decorative pieces.  For sculptors, the properties of malachite make it an easy and compliant material with which to work and it’s valued by jewelers for its color-retention properties, the stone (like many gemstones) unaffected by even prolonged exposure to harsh sunlight.  Despite the modern association of green with the emerald, the relationship between mankind & malachite is much more ancient. evidence of malachite mining dating from as early as 4000 BC found near the Isthmus of Suez and the Sinai whereas there’s nothing to suggest the emerald would be discovered until Biblical times, some two millennia later.

Lindsay Lohan in malachite green, this piece including both the darker and lighter ends of the spectrum.

The Malachite is relatively soft meant it was easy to grind into a powder even with pre-modern equipment; it was thus used to create what is thought to be the world’s oldest green pigment (described often as chrysocolla or copper green).  In Antiquity, the dye was so adaptable it was used in paint, for clothing and Egyptians (men & women) even found it was the ideal eye makeup.  Use persisted until oil-based preparations became available in quantity and these were much cheaper because of the labor-intensive grinding processes and the increasing price of malachite which was in greater demand for other purposes.  This had the side-effect of creating a secondary market for malachite jewelry and other small trinkets because the fragments and wastage from the carving industry (once absorbed by the grinders for the dye market) became available.  The use in makeup wasn’t without danger because, as a copper derivate, raw malachite is toxic; like many minerals, the human body needs a small amount of copper to survive but in high doses it is a poison’ in sufficient quantities, it can be fatal.  Among miners and process workers working with the ore, long-term exposure did cause severe adverse effects (from copper poisoning) so it shouldn’t be ingested or the dust inhaled.  Once polished, the material is harmless but toxicology specialists do caution it remains dangerous if ingested and any liquid with which it comes in contact should not be drunk.  Despite the dangers, the mineral has long been associated with protective properties, a belief not restricted to Antiquity or the medieval period; because the Enlightenment seems to have passed by New Agers and others, malachite pendants and other body-worn forms are still advertised with a variety of improbable claims of efficacy.

The Malachite Room of the Winter Palace, St Petersburg, Russia was, during the winter of 1838-1839, designed as a formal reception room (a sort of salon) for the Tsar & Tsarina by the artist Alexander Briullov (1798–1877), replacing the unfortunate Jasper Room, destroyed in the fire of 1837.  It’s not the only use of the stone in the palace but it’s in the Malachite Room where a “green theme” is displayed most dramatically, the columns and fireplace now Instagram favorites, as is the large large urn, all sharing space with furniture from the workshops of Peter Gambs (1802-1871), those pieces having been rescued from the 1837 fire.  Between June-October 1971 it was in the Malachite Room that the Provisional Government conducted its business until the representatives were arrested by Bolsheviks while at dinner in the adjoining dining room.  The putsch was denounced by the Mensheviks who the Bolsheviks finally would suppress in 1921.

Polished malachite pieces from the Congo, offered on the Fossilera website.

Where there is demand for something real, a supply of a imitation version will usually emerge and the modern convention is for items erroneously claiming to be the real thing are tagged “fake malachite” while those advertised only as emulation are called “faux malachite”.  Although not infallible, the test is that most fake malachite stones are lighter than the real thing because, despite being graded as “relatively soft” by sculptors, the stone is of high in density and deceptively heavy.  The patterning of natural malachite is infinitely varied while the synthetic product tends to some repetition and is usually somewhat brighter.  The density of malachite also lends the stone particular thermal properties; it’s inherently cold to the touch, something which endures even when a heat source is applied.  Fake malachite usually is manufactured using glass or an acrylic, both of which more rapidly absorb heat from the hand.

Lindsay Lohan with Rolex Datejust in stainless steel with silver face (left) and the Rolex's discontinued "malachite face" (centre & right).  Well known for its blue watch faces, during the more exuberant years of the 1970s & 1980s the company “splashed out” a bit and offered a malachite face.  The Datejust is now available with a choice of nine faces but the Green one is now a more restrained hue the company calls “mint green”.

Dogdish

Dogdish (pronounced dog-dish or dawg-dish)

(1) The dish in which a pet dog’s meals are served (probably a rare use because “dog bowl” is the more common (an accurate) descriptor.

(2) In US use, the style of simple hubcap used in the 1960s & 1970s for low-cost vehicles (especially for fleet operators such as police forces) or certain high-performance cars (including those ordered for competition use).

1940s or 1950s (in the automotive context): The word dog pre-dates the eleventh century and was from the Middle English dogge (akin to the Scots dug), from the Old English dogga & docga, of uncertain origin.  The documentary evidence from a thousand years ago is unsurprisingly scant but does suggest “dog” was used to mean something like the modern “cur” or “mutt” (ie a common or stray dog as opposed to one of good breeding), later refined to be applied to “large or stocky canines”.  The Old English dogga & docga may have been a pet-form diminutive of dog, the appended suffix -ga also used of pet frogs (frocga) and pigs (picga).  The ultimate source of dog (and the meaning) is uncertain but there may be some link with the Old English dox (dark, swarthy) or the Proto-West Germanic dugan (to be suitable), the latter the origin of the Old English dugan (to be good, worthy, useful), the English dow, the Dutch deugen and the German taugen.  It’s all speculative but the most supported theory appears to be it was likely a children’s epithet for dogs meaning something like “good creature”.  Less supported is the notion of a relationship with docce (stock, muscle), from the Proto-West Germanic dokkā (round mass, ball, muscle, doll), from which English gained dock (stumpy tail) and ultimately (in that context) docking (the removal of a tail.  In England, as late as the early fifteenth century, the common words used of domestic canines was hound, from the Old English hund while dog tended to be restricted to a sub-type resembling the modern mastiff and bulldog.  In the way English tends towards shorter forms, by the sixteenth century dog had become the general word with hound increasingly a specialist word used of hunt dogs (accounting for all those English pubs called “The fox & hounds”.  At the same time, the word dog was adopted by several continental European languages as their word for mastiff although this use didn’t persist as “dog” became more generalized.  Etymologists note that despite the overlaps in form and meaning, the English word was not related to the Mbabaram dog.  Dish predated the tenth century and was from the Middle English dish & disch, from the Old English disċ (plate; bowl; dish), from the Proto-West Germanic disk (table; dish), from the Latin discus, from the Ancient Greek δίσκος (dískos) (quoit, disc, discus, dish, trencher, round mirror, reliquary, marigold).  For centuries the orthodox etymology of dískos was that it was from δίκ-σκος (dík-skos), from δικεῖν (dikeîn) (to cast) but more recent scholarship have cast doubts on this on the grounds the suffix -σκο- was rare in nominal derivation.  The alternative suggestion was δισκ- (disk-) was a variant of δικεῖν (dikeîn) (of pre-Greek origin) rather than a direct formation.  Dogdish is a noun; the noun plural is dogdishes.

The dogdish hubcap

Dogdishes (also as dog dish or dog-dish and there’s even a faction which calls them “pie pans” although the most evocative collective is “poverty caps”) are a basic, unadorned style of hubcap used with steel wheels (“steelies” to the tappet-heads).  Although some steel wheels could be stylish (notably those offered by the US manufacturers in the 1960s & 1970s and those Jaguar fitted to some E-Types (XKE) and XJs, in passenger vehicles, lighter aluminium wheels have in recent decades become the standard fitting for all but the cheapest models in a range.  However, the steel wheel possesses a number of virtues as well as being cheaper than aluminium units, notably their resistance to impact injuries and ease of repair, the latter the reason they’re still the choice for many police & commercial vehicles.  The steel wheel is inherently heavier so not the ideal choice for high performance use but their characteristics are attractive for off-road users who appreciate being able to effect repairs in remote places with little more equipment than a hammer.

1929 Mercedes-Benz 460 Nürburg (W08, 1928-1933); a Nürburg was the first "Popemobile" (supplied by the factory to Pius XI (1857–1939; pope 1922-1939) and the official car of Eugenio Pacelli (1876-1958, the future Pope Pius XII (1939-1958)) while Apostolic Nuncio to Germany (1920–1930).  The wheels were fashioned in timber and the hubcaps were of stainless steel.  Wooden wheels were by 1929 already archaic although some were still being produced as late as 1939.  Typically, hickory was favored because of its strength, flexibility and shock resistance which made it able to cope with the stresses imposed by the often rough roads of the era.

1957 Cadillac Eldorado Brougham.  During the 1930s, for various reasons (dirt protection, aerodynamics and, increasingly, aesthetics), hubcaps grew to become "wheel covers" and in the hands of US stylists in the 1950s they became an integral component of the whole design, used for product differentiation and the establishment of a model's place in the hierarchy.  Compared with the excesses which would be seen in the 1960s & 1970s, those on the 1957 Cadillac Eldorado Brougham were almost restrained.      

The origin of the hubcap was, fairly obviously, “a cap for hub”, something which dates from the age of horse-drawn carts.  Although they would later become something decorative, hubcaps began as a purely function fitting designed to ensure the hub mechanism was protected from dirt and moisture because removing a wheel when the hub was caked in mud with bolts “rusted on” could be a challenge.  In the twentieth century the practice was carried over to the automobile, initially without much change but as wheels evolved from the wooden-spoked to solid steel (and even in the 1920s some experimented with aluminium), the hubcaps became larger because the securing bolts were more widely spaced.  This meant they became a place to advertise so manufacturers added their name and before long, especially in the US, the humble hubcap evolved into the “wheel-cover”, enveloping the whole circle and they became a styling feature, designs ranging from the elegant to the garishly ornate and some were expensive: in 1984 a set of replacement “wire” wheel covers for a second generation Cadillac Seville (the so-called “bustle-back”, 1980-1985) listed at US$995.00 if ordered as a Cadillac part-number and then that was a lot of money.

1969 COPO Chevrolet Camaro ZL1.  Only 69 units in this configuration were built for not only was the all-aluminium ZL1 a highly-strung engine not suited to street use, it added US$4160.15 to a V8 Camaro's base price of US$2727.00 restricting demand to those who really did want to run on drag strips.  The basic interior fittings and dogdish hubcaps saved buyers a few dollars. 

But the dogdishes persisted because police forces and other fleet operators ordered cars with them in large volumes and many thrifty private buyers opted for them too.  As the cult they are today however, the origin lies in their appearance on muscle cars during the 1960s.  Sometimes their inclusion was as a cost-cutting measure such as the 1968 Plymouth Road Runner although in 1969, when the model was made available with a triple carburetor version of the 440 cubic inch (7.2 litre) V8, even the dogdishes weren't included in the package and the cars shipped to dealer with the five chromed lug nuts exposed, the companion Dodge Super Bee also so de-contented.  Those purchasing something for competition (such as the Chevrolet Camaros fitted with 427 cubic inch (7.0 litre) engines via General Motors’ (GM) COPO (Central Office Production Order) scheme used usually for volume runs of things like vans for utility companies or police interceptors with the high-performance but not the "dress-up" options) also usually would opt for the steelie/dogdish combo.  The apparent anomaly of the high-performance Camaros running the dogdishes (already referred to as “poverty caps”) was that the buyer would anyway be fitting their own wheel/tyre combination so the vehicle was supplied ex-factory with the cheapest option.  The photographic record suggests that in truth, when new, relatively few muscle cars prowled the street with dogdishes still attached, something more stylish usually fitted at some point during ownership but they’ve become so emblematic of the era that reproductions are now available for those undertaking restorations or creating their own clone (tribute/faux/fake/replica etc); authenticity can be emulated.

1973 Maserati Bora 4.9 with the early (1971-1975) aluminium wheels fitted with "frisbee" (not dogdish) hubcaps (left), 1977 Maserati Bora 4.9 with the later (1975-1978) aluminium wheels without hubcaps (centre) and 1974 Maserati Merak 3.0 (right).

So in the US, the dogdish tended to appear on (1) the cheapest cars in a range, (2) those purchased (sometimes in the thousands) by fleet operators interested only in cost-breakdown or (3) those buying a car for racing, the wheels of which were going to be discarded immediately upon delivery.  In Europe however, things were done differently and one of history’s plainest hubcaps appeared on a top-of-the-range model: Between 1971-1975, the mid-engined Maserati Bora (Tipo AM117; 1971-1978) was equipped with removable, polished stainless steel hubcaps (which the Maserati cognoscenti call frisbees) on its 7½ x 15 inch (190.5 x 381 mm) Campagnolo aluminium wheels.  Although structurally different, the less expensive Merak (Tipo AM122; 1972-1983) used a similar body but was equipped with 2.0 & 3.0 V6 engines rather than the Bora’s 4.7 & 4.9 litre V8s, the smaller engines meaning the Merak was able to be fitted with two rear seats (most suitable for small children or contortionists).  The Merak used wheels in the same style without the frisbees and after 1975 this configuration extended to the Bora.  Rarely has there been a hubcap plainer than the those used on the Bora but anyone calling it a “poverty cap” would be shocked by the price they command as used parts; on the rare occasions they’re available, they've been listed at US$700-2000 apiece.  Unlike the Merak which was named after a star in the constellation of Ursa Major, the Bora borrowed its name from a wind which blows along the Adriatic coast, the company over the years having used the names of a number of (usually hot) winds from North Africa and the Middle East including Ghibli, Khamsin, Shamal and Karif.

Dogdish owner: Lindsay Lohan leaving a Lincoln Town Car with Chloe the Maltese (which lived to the reasonable age of 15), May 2008, New York City.  He first dog, also a Maltese, she called Gucci, the name explained by the puppy arriving simultaneously with her “first pair of Gucci boots”.  The dog promptly chewed up the boots.

Usually, in the collector market, what commands the highest price is a vehicle which left the factory fitted with the most options, the “fully-optioned” machine the most desirable (although the odd extra-cost item like an automatic transmission or a vinyl roof can detract), the dogdishes don’t deter buyers, most of who would probably admit the various styled steel wheels of the era were better looking.  In August 2024, the most highly optioned 1969 Dodge Daytona in the most desirable mechanical configuration (the 426 cubic inch (7.0 litre) Street Hemi V8 & four-speed manual transmission combination) achieved US$3.36 million at Mecum’s auction at Monterey, California.  The price was impressive but what attracted the interest of the amateur sociologists was the same Daytona in May 2022 sold for US$1.3 million when offered by Mecum at their auction held at the Indiana State Fairgrounds.  The US$1.3 million was at the time the highest price then paid for a Hemi Daytona (of the 503 Daytonas built, only 70 were fitted with the Hemi and of those, only 22 had the four-speed manual) and the increase in value by some 250% was obviously the result of something other than the inflation rate.

The US$3.36 million 1969 Dodge Daytona.  When new, the Daytona (and the more numerous companion "winged warrior" Plymouth Superbird) was sometimes difficult for dealers to sell, the wild body modifications not appealing to all.  Consequently, so resorted to returning them to the same visual appearance as standard Dodge Chargers.  Now, the process is reversed and a number of Chargers have been transformed into "clone" Daytonas.   

The consensus was that although the internet had made just about all markets inherently global, local factors can still influence both the buyer profile and their behaviour, especially in the hothouse environment of a live auction.  Those who frequent California’s central coast between Los Angeles and San Francisco include a demographic not typically found in the mid-west and among other distinguishing characteristics there are more rich folk, able to spend US$3.36 million on a half-century old car they’ll probably never drive.  That’s how the collector market now works.

1971 Plymouth Hemi 'Cuda: US$410,000 in 1999; US$3.36 million in 2014, the appreciation due to (1) the supply & demand curve and (2) the largess of the US Federal Reserve.  For those wanting "the look", reproduction stainless steel dogdishes are available for US$258.00 (set of four). 

Despite the result, the green Daytona’s result wasn’t even the highest price a Chrysler product had achieved at auction, that mark set in Seattle in 2014 when one of the five four-speed manual 1971 Plymouth Hemi ‘Cuda convertibles (there were another seven automatics) sold US$3.78 million.  While the outcome of such a rarity was not indicative of broader market trends (although there have been stellar performances for classic Mercedes-Benz and pre-1973 Ferraris), it did illustrate the effect of the increase in the global money supply in the wake of the GFC (Global Financial Crisis, 2008-2012) when central banks essentially not only “replaced” much of money the rich had lost gambling but gave them a healthy bonus as well.  The Hemi ‘Cuda in December 1999 had (albeit in its original, un-restored state sold at auction for US$410,000 so the successful US$3.36 million bid 14 years on was an increase of more than 800%, the sort of RoI (return on investment) which would once have impressed even Richard "Dick" Fuld (b 1946), chairman & CEO of Lehman Brothers (1850-2008).  Time however will tell if the money spent in 2014 was a good investment because when another four-speed 1971 Hemi ‘Cuda convertible was offered for auction in 2021, despite predictions it would go for as much as US$6.5 million, it was passed-in at US$4.8 million without reaching the reserve.  The car was fitted with Chrysler’s “Rallye” wheels rather than the steelie/dogdish combo but this was not thought to be of any significance.

Mecum Auctions catalogue image of 1971 four-speed Plymouth Hemi 'Cuda convertible with 15" Rallye wheels.  Passed in on a high-bid of US$4.8 million, it'll be interesting to see if, when next offered, steelies & dogdishes are fitted.