Atavism

Atavism (pronounced at-uh-viz-uhm)

(1) In biology (most often in zoology & botany), the reappearance in an individual of characteristics of some (typically) remote ancestor which have not manifested in intervening generations.

(2) An individual embodying such a reversion.

(3) Reversion to an earlier or more primitive type (a “throwback” in the vernacular).

(4) In sociology and political science, the recurrence or reversion to a past behavior, method, characteristic or style after a long period of absence, used especially of a reversion to violence.

1825-1830: The construct was the Latin atav(us) (great-great-great grandfather; remote ancestor, forefather” (the construct being at- (akin to atta (familiar name for a father) and used perhaps to suggest “beyond”)  + avus (grandfather, ancestor) + -ism.  The –ism suffix was from the Ancient Greek ισμός (ismós) & -isma noun suffixes, often directly, sometimes through the Latin –ismus & isma (from where English picked up ize) and sometimes through the French –isme or the German –ismus, all ultimately from the Ancient Greek (where it tended more specifically to express a finished act or thing done).  It appeared in loanwords from Greek, where it was used to form abstract nouns of action, state, condition or doctrine from verbs and on this model, was used as a productive suffix in the formation of nouns denoting action or practice, state or condition, principles, doctrines, a usage or characteristic, devotion or adherence (criticism; barbarism; Darwinism; despotism; plagiarism; realism; witticism etc).  Atavism & atavist are nouns, atavic, atavistic & atavistical are adjectives and atavistically is an adverb; the noun plural is atavisms.

The primitive Indo-European awo meant “adult male relative other than the father”, the most obvious descendent the modern “uncle”.  The English form was influenced by the French atavisme (the coining attributed usually to the botanist Antoine Nicolas Duchesne (1747-1827 Paris) and was first used in biology in the sense of “reversion by influence of heredity to ancestral characteristics, resemblance of a given organism to some remote ancestor, return to an early or original type”.  The adjective atavistic (pertaining to atavism) appeared in 1847, joined three year later by the now rare atavic (pertaining to a remote ancestor, exhibiting atavism).  Atavism (and its related forms) are none of those words which can be used as a neutral descriptor (notably in botany) or to denote something positive or negative.  Although the core meaning is always some “past or ancestral characteristic”, it tends to be pejorative if use of people or human cultures reverting to some “primitive characteristics” (especially if they be war or other forms of violence.  In the vernacular, the earthier “throwback” has been more common than the rather formal “atavistic” although the circumlocution “skip a generation” is often used for traits that occur after a generation of absence and “throwback” anyway became a “loaded” term because of its association with race (in the sense of skin-color).

Medicine has constructed its own jargon associated with the phenomenon in which an inherited condition appears to “skip a generation”: it’s described often as “autosomal recessive inheritance” or “incomplete penetrance”.  While the phrase “skipping a generation” is not uncommon in informal use, the actual mechanisms depend on the genetic inheritance pattern of the condition.  Autosomal Recessive Inheritance is defined as a “condition is caused by mutations in both copies of a specific gene” (one inherited from each parent).  This can manifest as an individual inheriting only one mutated copy (which means they will be a carrier but will remain asymptomatic) but if two carriers have issue, there is (1) a 25% chance the offspring will inherit both mutated copies and express the condition, (2) a 50% chance the offspring will be a carrier and (3) a 25% chance the offspring will inherit no mutations.  Thus, the condition may appear (and for practical purposes does) skip a generation in those cases where no symptoms exist; the classic examples include sickle cell anemia and cystic fibrosis.  Incomplete Penetrance occurs when an individual inherits a gene mutation which creates in them a genetic predisposition to a condition but symptoms do not develop because of environmental factors, other genetic influences or “mere chance” (and in the matter of diseases like those classified as “cancer”, the influence of what might be called “bad luck” is still probably underestimated, and certainly not yet statistically measured.  In such cases, the mutation may be passed to the next generation, where it might manifest, giving the appearance of skipping a generation and the BRCA1 & BRCA2 mutations for (hereditary) breast cancer are well-known examples.

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

In political science, “atavism” is used to refer to a reversion to older, more “primitive” means of furthering political ends.  Although it’s most associated with a critique of violence, political systems, ideologies, behaviors or economic policies have all be described as “atavistic” and their manifestation is linked often with ideas presented as representing (and implicitly offering a return to) a perceived “golden age”, a past structure which is idealized; it appear often as a reaction to change, notably modernity, globalization, or what is claimed to be a “decline in values”.  Political scientists identify stands in nominally non-violent atavism including: (1) Nostalgic Nationalism.  Nationalist movements are almost always race-based (in the sense of longing for a return to a “pure” ethnicity in which a population is “untainted” by ethnic diversity.  It’s usually a romanticization of a nation's past (historically, “purity” was less common than some like to believe) offering the hope of a return to traditional values, cultural practices, or forms of governance.  (2) Tribalism and Identity Politics. A call to primordial loyalties (such as ethnic or tribal identities), over modern, pluralistic, or institutional frameworks has been a feature of recent decades and was the trigger for the wars in the Balkans during the 1990s, the conflict which introduced to the language the euphemism “ethnic cleansing”, a very atavistic concept.  Tribalism and identity politics depends on group identities & allegiance overshadowing any broader civic or national unity on the basis of overturning an artificial (and often imposed) structure and returning to a pre-modern arrangement. (3) Anti-modernism or Anti-globalization. These are political threads which sound “recent” but both have roots which stretch back at least to the nineteenth century and Pius IX’s (1792–1878; pope 1846-1878) Syllabus Errorum (Syllabus of Errors, 1864) was one famous list of objections to change.  The strategy behind such atavism may be identifiably constant but tactics can vary and there’s often a surprising degree of overlap in the messaging of populists from the notional right & left which is hardly surprising given that in the last ten years both Donald Trump (b 1946; US president 2017-2021; president elect 2024) and Bernie Sanders (b 1941; senior US senator (Independent, Vermont) since 2007) honed their messaging to appeal to the same disgruntled mass.

Elizabeth Boody Schumpeter (1898-1953, left) & Joseph Schumpeter (1883–1950, right).  It was his third marriage.

Austrian political economist Joseph Schumpeter used the word “atavism” in his analysis of the dynamics which contributed to the outbreak of World War I (1914-1918), something he attributed to the old, autocratic regimes of Central and Eastern Europe “dragging the modern, liberal West” back in time.  Schumpeter believed that if commercial ties created interdependence between nations then armed conflict would become unthinkable and US author Thomas Friedman (b 1953) in The Lexus and the Olive Tree: Understanding Globalization (1999) suggested the atavistic tendency of man to go to war could be overcome by modern commerce making connectivity between economies so essential to the well-being of citizens that no longer would they permit war because such a thing would be so dangerous for the economy; it was an attractive argument because we have long since ceased to be citizens and are merely economic units.  Friedman’s theory didn’t actually depend on his earlier phrase which suggested: “…countries with McDonalds outlets don’t go to war with each other” but that was how readers treated it.  Technically, it was a bit of a gray area (Friedman treated the earlier US invasion of Panama (1989) as a police action) but the thesis was anyway soon disproved in the Balkans.  Now, Schumpeter and Friedman seem to be cited most often in pieces disproving their theses and atavism remains alive and kicking.

Consigliere

Consigliere (pronounced kawn-see-lye-re)

(1) A member of a criminal organization or syndicate who serves as an adviser to the leader (associated historically with legal advisors in the Italian Mafia and similar structures in other places).

(2) In modern use, an advisor or confidant.

(3) A surname of Italian origin (originally occupational).

1969 (in common use in English): An un-adapted borrowing of the Italian consigliere (councilor) (the feminine form consigliera), from consiglio (advice; counsel), from the Latin cōnsilium (council) from cōnsulō, the construct being con- (from the preposition cum (with), from the Old Latin com, from the Proto-Italic kom, from the primitive Indo-European ḱóm (next to, at, with, along).  It was cognate with the Proto-Germanic ga- (co-), the Proto-Slavic sъ (with) and the Proto-Germanic hansō.  It was used with certain words to add a notion similar to those conveyed by with, together, or joint or with certain words to intensify their meaning) +‎ sulo (from the primitive Indo-European selh- (to take, to grab)). +‎ -ium (the –ium suffix (used most often to form adjectives) was applied as (1) a nominal suffix (2) a substantivisation of its neuter forms and (3) as an adjectival suffix.  It was associated with the formation of abstract nouns, sometimes denoting offices and groups, a linguistic practice which has long fallen from fashion.  In the New Latin, as the neuter singular morphological suffix, it was the standard suffix to append when forming names for chemical elements).  Consigliere is a noun, the noun plural is consiglieri or (in English) consiglieres.

Because of the way Google harvests data for their ngrams, they’re not literally a tracking of the use of a word in society but can be usefully indicative of certain trends, (although one is never quite sure which trend(s)), especially over decades.  As a record of actual aggregate use, ngrams are not wholly reliable because: (1) the sub-set of texts Google uses is slanted towards the scientific & academic and (2) the technical limitations imposed by the use of OCR (optical character recognition) when handling older texts of sometime dubious legibility (a process AI should improve).  Where numbers bounce around, this may reflect either: (1) peaks and troughs in use for some reason or (2) some quirk in the data harvested.

Consigliere entered general use in 1969 when it appeared in the novel The Godfather by Mario Puzo (1920–1999), the first of what became a series of five (not wholly sequential and the last co-authored) works revolving around a fictional Italian-American Mafia family.  Use spiked after 1972 when the first of three feature film adaptations was released.  Advisors and confidants of course exist in many parts of society but the significance of the use of “consigliere” is the historic baggage of it being associated with mafiosi (in the Italian Code of Criminal Procedure anyone a part of a criminal (mafia-like) association formed by three or more individuals).  So it’s a loaded word although in Italian there are notionally innocuous forms including consigliere comunale (town councillor), consigliere delegato (managing director) and consigliere d'amministrazione (board member).  It Italian, the related forms include the adjective consigliabile (advisable, the plural being consigliabili), the transitive verb consigliare (to advise, to suggest, to recommend, to counsel), the noun & verb consiglio (advise, counsel; council (in the senses of "an assembly", the plural being consigli)) and the adjective (and in Latin a verb) consiliare (board; council (as la sala consiliare used in the sense of "council chamber")

So a consigliere is a trusted advisor or counselor, historically associated with the Italian Mafia but later also with organized crime in general though the suggestion of a link with things Italian (not necessarily Sicilian) remained strong.  Within organized crime, not all consiglieri were legal advisors although in fiction that does seem to be a common role but all in some way offered “behind the scenes” strategic guidance.  Consigliere can be used metaphorically in a non-criminal context but because of connotations, if the individuals involved have some Italian ancestry, there can lead to accusations of “ethnic stereotyping” and the best neutral descriptors are probably adviser (or advisor) or councillor (counselor in US use) and there are also specific versions such as “legal counsel” “political advisor” etc.

Consulente di moda Kim Kardashian (left) with the client Lindsay Lohan (right).  The consulente di moda (fashion advisor) is a specialized fork of the consiglieri and before she became one of the internet’s more remarkable installations, Kim Kardashian (b 1980) was a “personal stylist” & “wardrobe consultant”, her clients including Paris Hilton (b 1981) and Lindsay Lohan (b 1986).

There are similar terms with their own connotations.  "Camarilla" describes a small, secretive group of advisors or influencers who manipulate decisions behind the scenes and is often used in a political context; notable members can be described as an “éminence grise”.  The term "grey eminence" was from the French éminence grise, (plural eminences grises or eminence grises and literally “grey eminence” and the French spelling is sometimes used in the English-speaking world).  It was applied originally to François Leclerc du Tremblay (1577–1638), also known as Père Joseph, a French Capuchin friar who was the confidant and agent of Cardinal Richelieu (1585–1642), the chief minister of France under Louis XIII (1601–1643; King of France 1610-1643).  The term refers to du Tremblay’s influence over the Cardinal (cardinals in the Roman Catholic Church enjoying the honorific “your eminence”), and the colour of his habit (he wore grey).  Aldous Huxley (1894–1963) sub-titled his biography of Leclerc (L'Éminence Grise (1941)): A Study in Religion and Politics and discussed the nature of both religion & politics, his purpose being to explore the relationship between the two and his work was a kind of warning to those of faith who are led astray by proximity to power.  Use of the term éminence grise suggests a shadowy, backroom operator who avoids publicity, operating in secret if possible yet exercising great influence over decisions, even to the point of being “the power behind the throne”.

In this a gray eminence differs from a king-maker or a svengali in that those designations are applied typically to those who operate in the public view, even flaunting their power and authority.  Probably the closest synonym of the grey eminence is a “puppetmaster” because of the implication of remaining hidden, and although never seen, the strings they pull are if one looks closely enough.  The svengali was named for the hypnotist character Svengali in George du Maurier’s (1834–1896) novel Trilby (1894); Svengali seduced, dominated and manipulated Trilby who was a young, half-Irish girl, transforming her into a great singer but in doing so he made her utterly dependent on him and this ruthlessly he exploited.

From the New York Post, 23 October 2024.

So given all that it was interesting in October 2024 to note the choice of words made by elements of the Murdoch press in reporting the latest legal setback suffered by Rudy Giuliani (b 1944), a politician and now disbarred (struck-off) attorney who first achieved worldwide fame was the mayor of New York City (1994-2001) at the time of the 9/11 terrorist attacks on the World Trade Center.  That later would be turned into infamy with antics such as his later (unintended) cameo in a satirical film and his role as legal counsel to MAGA-era (Make America Great Again) Donald Trump (b 1946; US president 2017-2021), notably his part in the matter of Dominion Voting Systems v Fox News (Delaware Superior Court: N21C-03-257; N21C-11-082) which culminated (thus far) in Fox settling the matter by paying Dominion some US$790 million, the alternative being to continue the case and allow more of Fox’s internal documents to enter the public domain.

In choosing to describe Mr Giuliani as Mr Trump’s “consigliere”, a person or persons unknown within the Murdoch press presumably pondered which noun to use and there certainly were precedents for others to appear, the corporation’s outlets at times having previously described him as “Mr Trump’s personal attorney”, “Head of the Trump legal team” and even “Donald Trump’s cybersecurity advisor”, the last engagement perhaps one of the less expected political appointments of recent decades.  What of course made the use “consigliere” interesting was (1) Mr Giuliani being the son of parents who both were children of Italian immigrants and (2) Mr Trump being a convicted felon so those not of a generous nature might suspect the New York Post was doing a bit of “ethnic stereotyping”.  However, it’s not a unique use because Mr Giuliani has been described as Mr Trump’s “consigliere” by publications which exist at various points on political spectrum including the New York Post (2016), Aljazeera (2018), the Washington Blade (a LGBTQQIAAOP newspaper) (2019), The Economist (2019), the Washington Post (2019), The Nation (2022), Vanity Fair (2022) and Salon.com (2023).  Whether the connotations of the word have become strengthened since Mr Trump gained his unique status as a convicted felon can be debated but the thoughts of the now homeless Mr Giuliani presumably are focused elsewhere.

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.

Advertising copy 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.

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 (125 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 improved the look but the engineering was sound, the wider stance also genuinely enhanced 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.

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 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.

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-1973 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.

Scimitar

Scimitar (pronounced sim·i·tar or sim-i-ter)

An oriental sword with a curved blade broadening towards the point

1540s: From the Middle French cimeterre or the Italian scimitarra (and in English originally spelled also as cimiterie).  Most etymologists agree it’s from an unknown Ottoman Turkish word and ultimately from the Persian شمشیر‎ (šamšir) (sword), an unusual event because the linguistic variations in the Ottoman dialects are otherwise so well documented.  There are contested variations too in the Persian shimshir (pronounced shamsher), said by some to be derived from the Greek sampsera (a barbarian sword) but most authorities find this explanation unsatisfactory.  There were many variations too in spelling, the preferred modern form scimitar reflecting the influence of Italian but at least one dictionary preferred simitar as late as 1902.  In palaeontology, the term "scimitar-toothed cat" describes any of the various species of extinct prehistoric cats of the tribe Homotheriini.  Scimitar is a noun & verb and the gruesome sounding scimitared is an adjective; the noun plural is scimitars.

Antique Persian scimitar with leather wood scabbard featuring natural engraving on pommel and wooden handle adorned with embossed metal.  The heavy curved blade is hand-forged and thirty inches (760mm) in length with a deep blood grove.  The leather-covered wooden scabbard is equipped with a pair of belt rings and wire decoration.  The drag is heavily embossed with nature designs and is thirty-eight inches (965mm) long.

1973 Reliant Scimitar SE5a.

Produced between 1968-1986 (and based on an earlier coupé of the same name launched in 1964), the Reliant Scimitar was an early and successful attempt to combine the stylistic appeal of a coupé with the practicality of an estate.  Although English manufacturers had a long tradition of (mostly bespoke) two-door estates called shooting-brakes, they were expensive and (except for the rakish Aston Martins) often rather staid designs optimised for the carriage of dogs, shotguns, picnic baskets and such rather than style.  The Scimitar, although in some ways crude and lacking the refinement of the better-bred, was at the time unique in the market and sold well, triggering a trend for the design which is still sometimes seen.

1973: Marilyn Cole, Volvo 1800ES.

Beginning in 1964, Playboy magazine (much read for the interviews) began rewarding the Playmate of the Year (PotY) with a pink car and in 1973 it was awarded to Ms Marilyn Cole (b 1949).  Still one of the more admired Volvos, the 1800ES (1972-1973) underwent a conversion from a coupé (1961-1972) which was exquisitely executed, the re-design undertaken entirely in-house, the proposal by Pietro Frua's (1913-1983) studio (the P1800’s original designer) thought too avant-garde for Volvo buyers.  They may have had a point because Volvo owners do seem impressed more by frugality of operation and longevity than anything flashy and there are several 1800s which are documented as having covered more than a million miles (1.6 million km).  The coupé gained much from its use in a popular TV series shown in the early 1960s, a promotional opportunity made possible only because Jaguar declined to loan the production company one of its new E-Types (XKE) which had debuted in the same year as the P1800.  Still, the seductive E-Type hardly needed a TV series to create its image.  Doubtlessly the equally seductive Ms Cole won PotY on merit but her photo-shoot was the first in which a "full-frontal nude" image appealed in the magazine so that alone may have been enough to persuade the judges.

Aston Martin's original 1965 DB5 Shooting Brake (left) and one of the eleven subsequently built by Radford (right).

Before Reliant adopted the style, there were Aston Martin shooting brakes.  Sir David Brown (1904–1993) liked his DB5 coupé (which the factory, in their English way, called a "saloon") but found it too cramped comfortably to accommodate his polo gear, shotguns and hunting dogs.  Now, that would be called a “first world problem” but because Brown then owned Aston Martin, he simply wrote out a work order and had his craftsmen create a bespoke shooting brake (thereby confirming the informal English definition of the term: “station wagon owned by someone rich”) which they did by hand-forming the aluminum with hammers over wooden formers.  It delighted him and solved his problem but created another because good customers stared writing him letters asking for their own but Aston Martin was at full capacity building DB5s and developing the up-coming DB6 and V8 models.  With a bulging order book, the resources didn’t exist to add another niche model so the project was out-sourced to the coachbuilder Radford which built a further 11 (and subsequently another 6 based on the DB6).  That Brown’s original car was bespoke seems clear but the others are a gray area because the coachbuilder’s records and assessments of the cars indicate they were identical in all but the color of the paint and leather trim.  There may have been only 12 DB5s and 6 DB6s but by conventional definition, all but one from some sort of production line (albeit one both leisurely and exclusive) so can all but the original be thought truly bespoke?  According to the Aston Martin website, all are bespoke so presumably that will remain the last word on the subject.

1970 Aston Martin DBS shooting brake by FLM Panelcraft (left), 1992 Aston Martin Virage Shooting Brake (centre) and 2023 Aston Martin Vanquish Zagato Shooting Brake (right).

The troubled 1970s were unforgiving times for the coachbuilders for which shooting brakes had been a minor but lucrative side-hustle and FLM’s Panelcraft’s 1970 Aston Martin DBS shooting brake remained a one-off.  Things had improved by the 1990s and although the industry in the years since has had its ups & downs, by 2023 it was possible for one buyer in Japan to order a Vanquish Zagato Shooting Brake in pink.  Aston Martin are one of the English manufacturers which have long offered custom (even one-off) colors (at a price) and Bristol used to emphasise the nature of their clientele by mentioning often they would match the tints to old-school or regimental ties.  Sadly, Bristol entered liquidation in 2020 and the world lost one of its more charming anachronisms.

1970 Range Rover, the car which for a generation doomed the after-market shooting brake.

Although now thought a "luxury car", the original Range Rover was a utilitarian device with rubber floor mats, provided because it was assumed owners would need to "hose it out" after a day on the farm in their muddy boots.  As late as 1969, the plan had been for a basic four-cylinder version and an up-market V8 but constraints of time and budget meant only a single version was released, combining the interior fittings of the former with the latter's mechanical specification.  Not until the release in 1981 of the Range Rover Vogue did carpet, air-conditioning, leather and walnut facias appear, a response to the fit-outs being offered by a number of third-party operations.   

The industry never settled on an agreed definition of the shooting brake body style but from the 1930s it’s been used usually to describe a two-door car (there were variations) with estate-car coachwork added.  In recent years, what are (sometimes misleadingly) labelled shooting brakes have tended to be based on fast sports cars rather than the large chassis familiar in the 1930s when the intent was to offer the rich a large, comfortable car for outings like shooting parties, the enlarged rear compartment easily accessible and sufficiently capacious handily to accommodate guns, picnic baskets and (on a good day) a few brace of grouse on the trip home.  For reasons related to economics and engineering, the creation of shooting brakes declined in the post-war years and the release of the Range-Rover in 1970 rendered the style redundant except for the rare creations for those who still hankered for conspicuous exclusivity.  The sporty breed of coupés with estate coachwork which many (Volvo, Reliant, BMW, Ferrari, Lancia et al) have offered in recent decades are really not shooting brakes, the design instead intended to enlarge luggage space beyond the “toothbrush & bikini” capacity of some sports cars.  However, nobody seems to have thought of a better term and because of the historic association with class & wealth, the target market likes “shooting brake”.  The origin of the name lies in the shooting brake which was a large horse-drawn cart suitable for use by shooting parties.  The “brake” in the name is derived from the popularity among shooting parties of the heavy-framed carts used when “breaking-in” spirited horses although, etymologists have pointed out the Dutch word brik (cart or carriage) but any link is speculative.  In the UK, the term brake became so identified with large horse-drawn carts than it came to be applied widely, extended to wagons generally, whether used for shooting parties or not.  In France, an estate car (station wagon) was called a break, the French (somewhat unusually) following the example in English, the original form having been break de chasse (hunting break).

Dog owner Lindsay Lohan is part of the target market for shooting brake manufacturers although it's doubtful she's a fan of hunting & shooting.  Her first dog she name Gucci because the hound "chewed up" a pair of Gucci boots, something for which she was forgiven, living to the age of fifteen.

Borrowing shamelessly from Jensen which between 1966-1973 produced the FF, Ferrari chose the model name FF to allude to the specification (4 seats and 4 wheel-drive) although it was all-wheel-drive (AWD) rather than four-wheel-drive (4WD), the latter now indicating something built with some emphasis on off-road use.  The Jensen FF nomenclature was a reference to “Ferguson Formula” the AWD system developed by Ferguson Research, a company founded by Harry Ferguson (1884–1960).  Ferguson had developed its system for agricultural vehicles but the advantages for cars on the road or racetrack were obvious and a number of projects followed, all successful pieces of engineering but the economics were at the time not compelling and it wasn’t until the 1970s that AWD vehicles began to appear in any volume.

1966 Jensen FF Series 1 (left) and 1971 Series III, one of only 15 built (right).

Visually, the FF was distinguished from the standard Interceptor by a 5 inch (127 mm) longer wheelbase, added ahead of the windscreen to accommodate the transfer case and associated hardware, the twin vents the obvious marker (the standard Interceptor used one).  All used the combination of Chrysler's 383 cubic inch (6.3 litre) B-Series V8 and TorqueFlite (727) automatic transmission and tales of some leaving the factory with the 440 (7.2) RB engine or manual transmissions are apocryphal.  Nor it would seem have any FFs subsequently been been fitted with the bigger engine although some have been transformed into convertibles using the parts from the factory's run of 267 (1974-1976), no small project but one which demands no modification of the complex drivetrain.

GKN FFF 100, MIRA (Motor Industry Research Association) proving ground, Warwickshire, England, September 1972, the images from the on-line Jensen Museum.  The car just prior to the test run (left) shows the raised centre panel which allowed the carburettors to protrude; the dual Holley 3116 carburetors atop the short cross-ram manifold  (centre) and the 0-100 mph-0 run in the wet (right).       

There was however one FF which did hint at the possibilities offered by mixing AWD with prodigious quantities of power and torque.  GKN (now an aerospace multi-national but originally Guest, Keen and Nettlefolds, a manufacturing concern with roots traceable to 1759 at the dawn of the Industrial Revolution) in 1971, impressed by the FF, commissioned a special build.  Revealed in 1972 as the FFF 100 (claimed by some to be a reference to a planned production run but probably meaning nothing in particular unless an allusion to 100 mph (162 km/h), a speed which would later figure in the car's 15 minutes of fame), it used a one-off body of no great distinction but beneath the bland and derivative lines sat the intoxicating sight of a 426 cubic inch (7.0 litre) V8 (remembered as the much-vaunted "Street Hemi", a (slightly) civilized version of the unit used on the NASCAR ovals and on drag strips).  Complete with a power-boosting "short cross-ram" dual quad induction system and built to the A990 specification used in drag racing, the FFF 100 was lighter than the FF and when tested in a demonstration run, it achieved 0-100 mph-0 in 12.2 seconds and that was on a wet track; when the test was repeated in the dry the number was 11.5, a mark for road cars which would stand for three decades.  It proved beyond doubt the benefits of AWD & ABS although it wouldn't be until the 1990s many began to enjoy the combination.  However, any possibility of a production FFF 100 was fanciful, the FF and the Street-Hemi by 1972 already retired so all missed what would for decades been the world's fastest shooting brake.       

When the Jensen FF debuted, there was thus no AWD-4WD distinction and it was always referred to as “4WD”, its other notable innovation the fitting of Dunlop Maxaret’s mechanical anti-lock braking system, something which in rudimentary form had appeared on aircraft as early as 1908.  It was later used by railways but cars under braking on roads present more challenges for ABS than aircraft on runways or trains on tracks and it wasn’t until the 1950s that the first (almost) viable implementations appeared.  ABS is essentially a form of “pressure modulation” and the accepted abbreviation doesn’t actually reference the often quoted  “Anti-Lock Braking System”; the correct source is Anti-Bloc System, the name adopted in 1966 when Daimler-Benz and the Heidelberg electronics company Teldix (later absorbed by Bosch) began a co-development of a hybrid analogue-electronic system.  That was presented in a “proof-of-concept” display in 1970 during a media at the company’s Untertürkheim test track but what the engineers knew was that use in mass-production depended on the development of digital controllers, more reliable, more powerful and less complex than analogue electronics, the conclusion US manufacturers soon drew when their early implementation of electronic fuel-injection (EFI) proved so troublesome.  Such things were obviously going to be relatively cheap and available after Intel in 1971 released the 4004 (the first commercially available microprocessor and the ancestor of the x86 family and all which followed) and in 1978, Daimler-Benz made available the first version of ABS on some of the Mercedes-Benz 450 SEL 6.9s (1975-1980, the W116 platform 1972-1980) sold in the European market.  The Dunlop Maxaret mechanical ABS used on the Jensen FF was less sophisticated but was reliable and a remarkable advance and while some testers found adaptation a challenge, others noted that in skilled hands (and feet), it was in some ways superior because one could learn to “tramp-through” the system and induce wheel-locking selectively, something useful in the right circumstances.

Ferrari FF (2011-2016): The factory's official "hero" shot (left), an FF fitted with "aerodynamically optimized" ski boot (centre) and with rear compartment displaying "shooting brake" credentials (right). 

The Jensen FF really wasn’t a shooting brake although the huge and distinctive rear window was also a hatch so it did offer some of the advantages.  The Ferrari FF "shooting brake" (the factory seems not to have used the term although every journalist seems to thought it best) was very much in the same vein, its capaciousness closer to that of a “big coupé” rather than any size of station wagon although the factory did circulate photographs of the rear-compartment comfortably (if snugly) packed with a set of golf-clubs and a half dozen-odd travel bags; with folding rear seats, Ferrari claimed a trunk (boot) capacity of 450-800 litres (16-28 cubic feet).  Like the Jensen, it was aimed at those who like to drive to the ski-fields and the promotional material also included pictures of ski-racks and even a roof-mounted “ski-box”, able to hold ski-gear for four.  Despite the high price, the Jensen FF sold remarkably well but its market potential was limited because all Ferguson’s development work had been done in England using right-hand-drive (RHD) vehicles and the system was so specific it wasn’t possible to make a left-hand-drive (LHD) FF without re-engineering the whole mechanism which was so bulky the passenger's front seat was narrower than that of the driver so much did things intrude.  Consequently, only 320 were built, apparently at a financial loss.  Ferrari did better with their FF, over 2000 sold between 2011–2016 and although the packaging may have been remarkably efficient, with a 6.3 litre (382 cubic inch) V12 it was never going to be economical, listed by the 2013 US Department of Energy as the least fuel-efficient car in the midsize class, sharing that dubious honor with the bigger, heavier (though not as rapid) Bentley Mulsanne.  For owners, the 335 km/h (208 mph) top speed was presumably sufficient compensation.

Ultracrepidarian

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jackson Pollock (1912-1956): Blue Poles

In 1973, when a million dollars was a still lot of money, the National Gallery of Australia, a little controversially, paid Aus$1.3 million for Jackson Pollock’s (1912-1956) Number 11, 1952, popularly known as Blue Poles since it was first exhibited in 1954, the new name reputedly chosen by the artist.  It was some years ago said to be valued at up to US$100 million but, given the increase in the money supply (among the rich who trade this stuff) over the last two decades odd, that estimate may now be conservative and some have suggested as much as US$400 million might be at least the ambit claim.

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

Blue Poles emerged during Pollock’s "drip period" (1947-1950), a method which involved techniques such throwing paint at a canvas spread across the floor.  The art industry liked these (often preferring the more evocative term "action painting") and they remain his most popular works, although at this point, he abandoned the dripping and moved to his “black porings phase” a darker, simpler style which didn’t attract the same commercial interest.  He later returned to more colorful ways but his madness and alcoholism worsened; he died in a drink-driving accident.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There have been famous responses to that but Ms Harrison's was practical, offering people the opportunity to try.  To the view that “…people thought it was arbitrary, that anyone can fling paint around”, Ms Harrison conceded it was true anybody could “fling paint around” but that was her point, anybody could, but having flung, they wouldn’t “…necessarily come up with anything.”  In 2010, she released The Jackson Pollock Box, a kit which, in addition to an introductory text, included paint brushes, drip bottles and canvases so people could do their own flinging and compare the result against a Pollock.  After that, they may agree with collector Peggy Guggenheim (1898-1979) that Pollock was “...the greatest painter since Picasso” or remain unrepentant ultracrepidarians.  Of course, many who thought their own eye for art quite well-trained didn't agree with Ms Guggenheim.  In 1945, just after the war, Duff Cooper (1890–1954), then serving as Britain's ambassador to France, came across Pablo Picasso (1881–1973) leaving an exhibition of paintings by English children aged 5-10 and in his diary noted the great cubist saying he "had been much impressed".  "No wonder" added the ambassador, "the pictures are just as good as his".   

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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