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Saturday, February 17, 2024

Algorithm

Algorithm (pronounced al-guh-rith-um)

(1) A set of rules for solving a problem in a finite number of steps.

(2) In computing, a finite set of unambiguous instructions performed in a prescribed sequence to achieve a goal, especially a mathematical rule or procedure used to compute a desired result.

(3) In mathematics and formal logic, a recursive procedure whereby an infinite sequence of terms can be generated.

1690s: From the Middle English algorisme & augrym, from the Anglo-Norman algorisme & augrimfrom, from the French algorithme, re-fashioned (under mistaken connection with Greek αριθμός (arithmos) (number)) from the Old French algorisme (the Arabic numeral system) from the Medieval Latin algorismus, a (not untypical) mangled transliteration of the Arabic الخَوَارِزْمِيّ (al-awārizmiyy), the nisba (the part of an Arabic name consisting a derivational adjective) of the ninth century Persian mathematician Muammad ibn Mūsā al-Khwārizmī and a toponymic name meaning “person from Chorasmia” (native of Khwarazm (modern Khiva in Uzbekistan)).  It was Muammad ibn Mūsā al-Khwārizmī works which introduced to the West some sophisticated mathematics (including algebra). The earlier form in Middle English was the thirteenth century algorism from the Old French and in English, it was first used in about 1230 and then by the English poet Geoffrey Chaucer (circa 1344-1400) in 1391.  English adopted the French term, but it wasn't until the late nineteenth century that algorithm began to assume its modern sense.  Before that, by 1799, the adjective algorithmic (the construct being algorithm + -ic) was in use and the first use in reference to symbolic rules or language dates from 1881.  The suffix -ic was from the Middle English -ik, from the Old French -ique, from the Latin -icus, from the primitive Indo-European -kos & -os, formed with the i-stem suffix -i- and the adjectival suffix -kos & -os.  The form existed also in the Ancient Greek as -ικός (-ikós), in Sanskrit as -इक (-ika) and the Old Church Slavonic as -ъкъ (-ŭkŭ); A doublet of -y.  In European languages, adding -kos to noun stems carried the meaning "characteristic of, like, typical, pertaining to" while on adjectival stems it acted emphatically; in English it's always been used to form adjectives from nouns with the meaning “of or pertaining to”.  A precise technical use exists in physical chemistry where it's used to denote certain chemical compounds in which a specified chemical element has a higher oxidation number than in the equivalent compound whose name ends in the suffix -ous; (eg sulphuric acid (HSO) has more oxygen atoms per molecule than sulphurous acid (HSO).  The noun algorism, from the Old French algorisme was an early alternative form of algorithm; algorismic was a related form.  The meaning broadened to any method of computation and from the mid twentieth century became especially associated with computer programming to the point where, in general use, this link is often thought exclusive.  The spelling algorism has been obsolete since the 1920s.  Algorithm, algorithmist, algorithmizability, algorithmocracy, algorithmization & algorithmics are nouns, algorithmize is a verb, algorithmic & algorithmizable are adjectives and algorithmically is an adverb; the noun plural is algorithms.

Babylonian and later algorithms

An early Babylonian algorithm in clay.

Although there is evidence multiplication algorithms existed in Egypt (circa 1700-2000 BC), a handful of Babylonian clay tablets dating from circa 1800-1600 BC are the oldest yet found and thus the world's first known algorithm.  The calculations described on the tablets are not solutions to specific individual problems but a collection of general procedures for solving whole classes of problems.  Translators consider them best understood as an early form of instruction manual.  When translated, one tablet was found to include the still familiar “This is the procedure”, a phrase the essence of every algorithm.  There must have been many such tablets but there's a low survival rate of stuff from 40 centuries ago not regarded as valuable.

So associated with computer code has the word "algorithm" become that it's likely a goodly number of those hearing it assume this was its origin and any instance of use happens in software.  The use in this context, while frequent, is not exclusive but the general perception might be it's just that.  It remains technically correct that almost any set of procedural instructions can be dubbed an algorithm but given the pattern of use from the mid-twentieth century, to do so would likely mislead or confuse confuse many who might assume they were being asked to write the source code for software.  Of course, the sudden arrival of mass-market generative AI (artificial intelligence) has meant anyone can, in conversational (though hopefully unambiguous) text, ask their tame AI bot to produce an algorithm in the syntax of the desired coding language.  That is passing an algorithm (using the structures of one language) to a machine which interprets the text and converts it to language in another structure, something programmers have for decades been doing for their clients.

A much-distributed general purpose algorithm (really more of a flow-chart) which seems so universal it can be used by mechanics, programmers, lawyers, physicians, plumbers, carpet layers, concreting contractors and just about anyone whose profession is object or task-oriented.   

The AI bots have proved especially adept at such tasks.  While a question such as: "What were the immediate implications for Spain of the formation of the Holy Alliance?" produces varied results from generative AI which seem to range from the workmanlike to the inventive, when asked to produce computer code the results seem usually to be in accord with a literal interpretation of the request.  That shouldn't be unexpected; a discussion of early nineteenth century politics in the Iberian Peninsular is by its nature going to to be discursive while the response to a request for code to locate instances of split infinitives in a text file is likely to vary little between AI models.  Computer languages of course impose a structure where syntax needs exactly to conform to defined parameters (even the most basic of the breed such as that PC/MS-DOS used for batch files was intolerant of a single missing or mis-placed character) whereas something like the instructions to make a cup of tea (which is an algorithm even if not commonly thought of as one) greatly can vary in form even though the steps and end results can be the same.

An example of a "how to make a cup of tea" algorithm.  This is written for a human and thus contains many assumptions of knowledge; one written for a humanoid robot would be much longer and include steps such as "turn cold tap clockwise" and "open refrigerator door".

The so-called “rise of the algorithm” is something that has attracted much comment since social media gained critical mass; prior to that algorithms had been used increasingly in all sorts of places but it was the particular intimacy social media engenders which meant awareness increased and perceptions changed.  The new popularity of the word encouraged the coining of derived forms, some of which were originally (at least to some degree) humorous but beneath the jocularity, many discovered the odd truth.  An algorithmocracy describes a “rule by algorithms”, a critique in political science which discusses the implications of political decisions are being made by algorithms, something which in theory would make representative and responsible government not so much obsolete as unnecessary.  Elements of this have been identified in the machinery of government such as the “Robodebt” scandal in Australia in which one or more algorithms were used to raise and pursue what were alleged to be debts incurred by recipients of government transfer payments.  Despite those in charge of the scheme and relevant cabinet ministers being informed the algorithm was flawed and there had been suicides among those wrongly accused, the politicians did nothing to intervene until forced by various legal actions.  While defending Robodebt, the politicians found it very handy essentially to disavow connection with the processes which were attributed to the algorithm.

The feeds generated by Instagram, Facebook, X (formerly known as Twitter) and such are also sometimes described as algorithmocracies in that it’s the algorithm which determines what content is directed to which user.  Activists have raised concerns about the way the social media algorithms operate, creating “feedback loops” whereby feeds become increasingly narrow and one-sided in focus, acting only to reinforce opinions rather than inform.  In fairness, that wasn’t the purpose of the design which was simply to keep the user engaged, thereby allowing the platform to harvest more the product (the user’s attention) they sell to consumers (the advertisers).  Everything else is an unintended consequence and an industry joke was the word “algorithm” was used by tech company CEOs when they didn’t wish to admit the truth.  A general awareness of that now exists but filter bubbles won’t be going away but what it did produce were the words algorithmophobe (someone unhappy or resentful about the impact of algorithms in their life) and algorithmophile (which technically should mean “a devotee or admirer of algorithms” but is usually applied in the sense of “someone indifferent to or uninterested in the operations of algorithms”, the latter represented by the great mass of consumers digitally bludgeoned into a state of acquiescent insensibility.

Some of the products are fighting back: The Algorithm: How AI Decides Who Gets Hired, Monitored, Promoted, and Fired and Why We Need to Fight Back Now (2024) by  by Hilke Schellmann, pp 336, Hachette Books (ISBN-13: 978-1805260981).

Among nerds, there are also fine distinctions.  There are subalgorithms (sub-algorithm seems not a thing) which is a (potentially stand-alone) algorithm within a larger one, a concept familiar in many programming languages as a “sub-routine” although distinct from a remote procedure call (RPC) which is a subroutine being executed in a different address space.  The polyalgorithm (again hyphens just not cool) is a set of two or more algorithms (or subalgorithms) with instructions for choosing which in some way integrated.  A very nerdy dispute does exist within mathematics and computer science around whether an algorithm, at the definitional level, really does need to be restricted to a finite number of steps.  The argument can eventually extend to the very possibility of infinity (or types of infinity according to some) so it really is the preserve of nerds.  In real-world application, a program is an algorithm only if (even eventually), it stops; it need not have a middle but must have a beginning and an end.

There is also the mysterious pseudoalgorithm, something les suspicious than it may first appear.  Pseudoalgorithms exist usually for didactic purposes and will usually interpolate (sometime large) fragments of a real algorithm bit it may be in a syntax which is not specific to a particular (or any) programming language, the purpose being illustrative and explanatory.  Intended to be read by humans rather than a machine, all a pseudoalgorithm has to achieve is clarity in imparting information, the algorithmic component there only to illustrate something conceptual rather than be literally executable.  The pseudoalgorithm model is common in universities and textbooks and can be simplified because millions of years of evolution mean humans can do their own error correction on the fly.

Of the algorithmic

The Netflix algorithm in action: Lindsay Lohan (with body-double) in Irish Wish (2024).  The car is a Triumph TR4 (1961-1967), one of the early versions with a live rear axle, a detail probably of no significance in the plot-line.

The adjective algorithmic has also emerged as an encapsulated criticism, applied to everything from restaurant menus, coffee shop décor, choices of typefaces and background music.  An entire ecosystem (Instagram et al) has been suggested as the reason for this multi-culture standardization in which a certain “look, sound or feel” becomes “commoditised by acclamation” as the “standard model” of whatever is being discussed.  That critique has by some been dismissed as something reflective of the exclusivity of the pattern of consumption by those who form theories about what seem not very important matters; it’s just they only go to the best coffee shops in the nicest parts of town.  In popular culture though the effect of the algorithmic is widespread, entrenched and well-understood and already the AI bots are using algorithms to write music will be popular, needing (for now) only human performers.  Some algorithms have become well-known such as the “Netflix algorithm” which presumably doesn’t exist as a conventional algorithm might but is understood as the sets of conventions, plotlines, casts and themes which producers know will have the greatest appeal to the platform.  The idea is nothing new; for decades hopeful authors who sent manuscripts to Mills & Boon would receive one of the more gentle rejection slips, telling them their work was very good but “not a Mills & Boon book”.  To help, the letter would include a brochure which was essentially a “how to write a Mills & Boon book” guide and it included a summary of the acceptable plot lines of which there were at one point reputedly some two dozen.  The “Netflix algorithm” was referenced when Falling for Christmas, the first fruits of Lindsay Lohan’s three film deal with the platform was released in 2022.  It was an example of followed a blending of several genres (redemption, Christmas movie, happy ending etc) and the upcoming second film (Irish Wish)  is of the “…always a bridesmaid, never a bride — unless, of course, your best friend gets engaged to the love of your life, you make a spontaneous wish for true love, and then magically wake up as the bride-to-be.” school; plenty of familiar elements there so it’ll be interesting to see if the algorithm was well-tuned.

Saturday, December 30, 2023

Terrible

Terrible (pronounced ter-uh-buhl)

(1) Distressing; severe.

(2) Extremely bad; horrible; of poor quality.

(3) Exciting terror, awe, or great fear; dreadful; awful.

(4) Formidably great; awesome.

1400–1450: From the late Middle English, from the Latin terribilis, from terrēre (to terrify), the construct being terr(ēre) (to frighten) + -ibilis (-ible).  The suffix –ible was from the Middle English, from the Old French, from the Latin –ibilis (the alternative forms were –bilis & -abilis.  An adjectival suffix, now usually in a passive sense, it was used to form adjectives meaning "able to be", "relevant or suitable to, in accordance with", or expressing capacity or worthiness in a passive sense.  The suffix -able is used in the same sense and is pronounced the same and –ible is generally not productive in English, most words ending in -ible being those borrowed from Latin, or Old & Middle French; -able much more productive although examples like collectible do exist.  

Because the earlier meanings (formidable; great; awesome) have faded from use, the synonyms now deployed tend to be: cruel, atrocious, ghastly, horrendous, disturbing, dreadful, horrid, abhorrent, unpleasant, unfortunate, hideous, disastrous, dire, harrowing, awful, gruesome, extreme, dangerous, appalling, frightful, horrible, horrifying & terrifying.  Terrible is a noun & adverb, terribly is an adverb, terribility & terribleness are nouns and terribler & terriblest are adjectives; use of the noun plurals is rare, the same applying to the alternative comparative (terribler) & supurlative (terriblest), "more terrible & "most terrible" both more elegant and preferred.  The adjective unterrible apparently exists. 

Technically, terrible can also mean “causing terror” but the related word terrifying is much more commonly used to mean this and now, to use “terrible” in this sense would probably be thought an error.  Terrible also once was a somewhat formal way of describing something as having great power or being worthy of awe, a sense present when used to describe supernatural power and, especially in Christianity, God and all his works.  In the Bible, the number varies according to the translation (some modern editions omit completely describing God as in any way “terrible” because of the confusion it’s likely to cause but in older translations, the word in its various senses appears dozens of times, a few examples from the 1611 King James Version (KJV) being:

Thou shalt not be affrighted at them: for the LORD thy God [is] among you, a mighty God and terrible. Deuteronomy 7:21

And he said, Behold, I make a covenant: before all thy people I will do marvels, such as have not been done in all the earth, nor in any nation: and all the people among which thou [art] shall see the work of the LORD: for it [is] a terrible thing that I will do with thee. Exodus 34:10

And when we departed from Horeb, we went through all that great and terrible wilderness, which ye saw by the way of the mountain of the Amorites, as the Lord our God commanded us; and we came to Kadeshbarnea. Deuteronomy 1:19

And he said, Behold, I make a covenant: before all thy people I will do marvels, such as have not been done in all the earth, nor in any nation: and all the people among which thou art shall see the work of the LORD: for it [is] a terrible thing that I will do with thee. Exodus 34:10

And said, I beseech thee, O LORD God of heaven, the great and terrible God, that keepeth covenant and mercy for them that love him and observe his commandments. Nehemiah 1:5

And in thy majesty ride prosperously because of truth and meekness [and] righteousness; and thy right hand shall teach thee terrible things. Psalms 45:4

And I will punish the world for [their] evil, and the wicked for their iniquity; and I will cause the arrogancy of the proud to cease, and will lay low the haughtiness of the terrible. Isaiah 13:11

For the terrible one is brought to nought, and the scorner is consumed, and all that watch for iniquity are cut off. Isaiah 29:20

Our skin was black like an oven because of the terrible famine. Lamentations 5:10

After this I saw in the night visions, and behold a fourth beast, dreadful and terrible, and strong exceedingly; and it had great iron teeth: it devoured and brake in pieces, and stamped the residue with the feet of it: and it was diverse from all the beasts that were before it; and it had ten horns. Daniel 7:7

He and his people with him, the terrible of the nations, shall be brought to destroy the land: and they shall draw their swords against Egypt, and fill the land with the slain. Ezekiel 30:11

When speaking of the awesome, formidable power of God, the Hebrew word translated as "terrible" in the KJV reflects English usage that was common and well-understood in the seventeenth century.  The type of "terror" associated with the word at that time was a reverent fear of God, which even today, theologians would suggest is the appropriate response to a Being immeasurably greater and more powerful than any living thing, Jesus telling his followers to have this kind of fear of God (Luke 12:4-5).  One can understand why some modern translations express the Hebrew word as "awesome" or "to be held in reverence", the dominant modern meaning of "terrible" as "extremely bad", "appalling" or "atrocious" not helpful in spreading the Christian message.  Interestingly, some translations use "dreadful" instead of and as well as "terrible", the meaning shift there a similar linguistic phenomenon.

Terrible in the seventeen century Biblical sense also appears in the first verse of the nineteenth century Battle Hymn of the Republic, written as a patriotic anti-slavery song during the American Civil War.

Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord

He is trapling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored

He have loosed the faiteful lightening of his terrible swift sword

His truth is marching on

 

Glory, Glory halleluhja

Glory, Glory halleluhja

Glory, Glory halleluhja

His truth is marching on

Battle Hymn of the Republic, lyrics (1861) by Julia Ward Howe (1819-1910), music (1856) by William Steffe (1830-1890).

Although in the hymn there are allusions to several passages of scripture, the most vivid imagery is that which recalls the wrathful God of terrible power in Revelation 14:14–19.

14 And I looked, and behold a white cloud, and upon the cloud one sat like unto the Son of man, having on his head a golden crown, and in his hand a sharp sickle.

15 And another angel came out of the temple, crying with a loud voice to him that sat on the cloud, Thrust in thy sickle, and reap: for the time is come for thee to reap; for the harvest of the earth is ripe.

16 And he that sat on the cloud thrust in his sickle on the earth; and the earth was reaped.

17 And another angel came out of the temple which is in heaven, he also having a sharp sickle.

18 And another angel came out from the altar, which had power over fire; and cried with a loud cry to him that had the sharp sickle, saying, Thrust in thy sharp sickle, and gather the clusters of the vine of the earth; for her grapes are fully ripe.

19 And the angel thrust in his sickle into the earth, and gathered the vine of the earth, and cast it into the great winepress of the wrath of God.

20 And the winepress was trodden without the city, and blood came out of the winepress, even unto the horse bridles, by the space of a thousand and six hundred furlongs.

Ivan the Terrible (Ivan IV Vasilyevich, 1530–1584), Tsar of Russia 1547-1584), oil on canvas (1897) by Viktor Vasnetsov (1848–1926).

Russia over the centuries has been ruled by some difficult souls, tsars and tsarinas both but only one is remembered in history as "the terrible" although, in his lifetime he was referred to also as "Ivan the Fearsome" & "Ivan the Formidable" so there appears little doubt about his character.  His rule of Russia seems to have begun rather well, a period of liberal reform and improvement by the standards of the age but, what with one thing and another, some personality disorders emerged and they didn't improve with age, his reign associated with repression, torture and gruesome forms of execution.  Some of the stories are doubtless apocryphal but there's enough documentary evidence to confirm Ivan deserved to be called terrible.  One of his noted contributions to public administration in Russia was the creation of a secret police called the Oprichnina which he used as an instrument of terror although, he came later to suspect them of disloyalty, dissolving the operation and executing many of its members.  Later Russian and Soviet leaders would however be impressed with the achievements of the Oprichnina and there were many revivals, most famously the various formations of Soviet and post-Soviet times (Cheka, GPU, OGPU, NKGB, NKVD, MGB, KGB, SMERSH & FSB).  In 1584, Ivan the Terrible suffered a massive stroke while playing chess with one of his few friends, dying hours later at the age of fifty-three.  The kingdom passed to his middle son, the feeble-minded Feodor (1557-1598) who died childless, after which Russia descended into lawlessness and anarchy, a period which came to be known as the "Time of Troubles" (1598-1613), an era which ended only when the rule of the Romanovs was established, the dynasty lasting until the revolutions of 1917.

Phrases like "not terrible" belong to the class known as "damning with faint praise".

Tuesday, December 19, 2023

Vintage

Vintage (pronounced vin-tij)

(1) The wine from a particular harvest or crop (usually a season).

(2) Of wine, the product of a season of outstanding quality (labeled by calendar year)

(3) The annual produce of the grape harvest, especially with reference to the wine obtained (technically also recorded as the “yield of grapes during one season”).

(4) The time of gathering grapes, or of winemaking.

(5) The act or process of producing wine; winemaking.

(6) The class of a dated object with reference to era of production or use.

(7) A wine of a specified vintage:

(8) Attributively, a subset of something, representing often the most memorable or highest quality items produced (although it can apply to all associated with the designated era) such as vintage cars, vintage dresses et al.  Sometimes, what constitutes a “vintage” item (as opposed to a “veteran”, “antique” et al) is defined by various institutions (vintage watches for example said to be those dated between 1870 and 1980).

(9) Attributively, something old-fashioned or obsolete.

(10) Attributively, something the being the best of its kind.

1400-1450: From the Middle English vendage & vyndage, from the Anglo-Norman vendenge, from vinter, from the Old French vendage & vendenge (vine-harvest, yield from a vineyard (and cognate with the French vendange)), from the Latin vindēmia (a harvest of grapes, vintage), the construct being vīn(um) (grape; wine) + dēmō (take off or away, remove), the construct being de (of; from, away from) + (e) (acquire, obtain).  A number of European languages including Spanish, Polish and (surprisingly) France adopted “vintage from English”.  Vintage is a noun, verb & adjective, vintager is a noun, vintagey is (a non-standard) adjective and vintaged & vintaging are verbs; the noun plural is vintages.

Warrnambool Heritage "The Aged Vintage" cheese.  Very good.

The meaning shifted to “age or year of a particular wine” after 1745 with the general adjectival sense of “being of an earlier time” emerging in the early 1880s.  In the business of winemaking, the notion of “vintages” came in the twentieth century to become elastic, the term not of necessity misleading, just one which needed to be understood.  Originally, a vintage was one wine, produced with grapes grown and harvested in the one season and that system is still used but the word has long been used also as a label to denote “something of a superior quality”.  The taste of wine being a subjective thing however and something the industry (often in the small print or with a “NV” added) markets as “non-vintage” may by many buyers be preferred to a “vintage” because the “un-vintaged” drop might be a blend of wine from several years; something routinely done to ensure a particular product tastes much the same from year to year.  Even then, while the regulatory environments in many jurisdictions do specify that to qualify as a “vintage”, the fluid in the bottle must contain a minimum volume from the year on the label but the “foreign” content can be as high as a quarter and according to EU regulators, in some places special exemptions have been granted permitting a 50/50 split.  The use also proved attractive to others and there are many “vintage” cheeses and other foodstuffs, the word in this context meaning little more than being sold at a higher price.

Brass era: 1915 Stutz Bearcat Model F.  Although untrue, it was for years part of Stutz folklore than anyone who died in one merited an obituary in the New York Times.

“Vintage” has been used of cars since 1928 but in the post-war years when the idea of cars as collectables coalesced, in various places categories were created and while somewhat arbitrary, the cut-off points between one era and another tended to reflect the existence of something significant which (at least for the majority of the vehicles involved) made them in some way identifiably different from what came before.  The terms vary: The most evocative is the “brass era” used in the US and it covers essentially anything produced between the beginning of organized production in the mid 1890s and 1915, the name chosen because of the extensive use of brass for fittings such as headlamp surrounds radiators and levers, the polished metal lending the distinctiveness.  The choice of 1915 as the end of the brass era reflected the decline in the use of the material as mass production made the use of other materials more attractive but the main factor was that was the year Ford ceased use for the Model T, the car which had for years dominated the market.  In the UK (and therefore throughout most of the old British Empire), cars produced prior to 1919 were called “veteran” although there was for a time a fashion to speak of them as “Edwardian, a reference to the reign of Edward VII (1841–1910; King of the UK & Emperor of India 1901-1910), the imprecision in the dates accounted for by “Edwardian” being used as a descriptor of the fashion, architecture etc of the era rather than the reign proper.  “Vintage” cars are those made between 1919-1930 (or 1916-1930 in US use) and as an epoch that follows what was at the time called “post-war” (between the end of the World War (1914-1918) and the onset of the Great Depression.  Conveniently, it conforms (more or less also to the advances in engineering and style which made the machines of the 1920s distinct from those of the next decade.

Post-war classic: 1948 Cisitalia 202 CMM by Vignale.

So, what in political science are the “inter-war years” are divided by the collector car community into “vintage” and “pre-war”, the later epoch being 1930-1942 (US passenger car production ending early in 1942).  Most of what was produced between 1945-1948 was a continuation of what was abandoned with the onset of hostilities but nothing produced after 1945 is grouped with the “pre-war” cohort and the era is generally called “post-war classics” and depending on who is writing the classification, that period ends somewhere around 1960-1962, motoring’s beginning of “the modern” although that’s obviously inexact, some strikingly modern stuff coming from as early as the 1940s and some true relics still on sale as late as 1968.  These definitions don’t apply to stuff made outside the West and in places like the Warsaw Pact nations, the relics would endure until the 1990s; nor do they include retro devices like the Morgan or products of pure-functionalism like Jeeps and Land Rovers.  In the modern age, the labeling has changed and the tendency now is to use self-explanatory terms like “1970”s, “muscle car era” etc.

Lindsay Lohan in a vintage Herve Leger bandage dress, New York, May 2007 (left) and in a vintage-style dress, New York, February 2017.    

In fashion, “vintage” can mean a piece from decades ago or just a few seasons earlier.  Vintage items can sometimes be genuine museum pieces or simply be “old” enough to have gained some sort of respectability.  To be “vintage”, something needs to be the product of an acknowledged designer or manufacturer; items which have gained their notoriety for some other reason (who it’s associated with or the circumstances in which it was worn) can be newsworthy but they’re not “vintage”.  The word is used also of style, a “vintage look” an indicating that an outfit is something which either recalls something associated with an older style or uses known motifs to achieve the effect.  Depending on the implementation, the latter can also be treated as a “retro” whereas a “vintage look” is something where the relationship is more vague.

There is vintage and there is retro: Lindsay Lohan in an art deco mini-dress, said to be a vintage original, paired with a pair of retro Prada stilettos in burgundy.

Thursday, November 30, 2023

Garland

Garland (pronounced gahr-luhnd)

(1) A wreath or festoon of flowers, leaves, or other material, worn for ornament or as an honor or hung on something as a decoration; an accolade or mark of honor.

(2) To crown, adorn or deck with such an object.

(3) A representation of such a wreath or festoon.

(4) In publishing, a collection of short literary pieces, as poems and ballads; a literary miscellany.

(5) In nautical use, a band, collar, or grommet or ring of rope lashed to a spar for convenience in handling.

(6) In admiralty jargon, a netted bag used by sailors to store provisions.

(7) In mining, a metal gutter installed around the inside of a mineshaft, to catch water running down inside the shaft and funnel it into a drainpipe.

1275–1325: From the Middle English gerlande, gerelande, garlande & garland (used to mean both "wreath of flowers" & "crown of gold or silver), from the Old French garlande, garlaunde, gerlande & guerlande (from which Modern French gained guirlande) from the Frankish wierlōn & wieralōn, a frequentative form of the Frankish wierōn (to adorn, bedeck), from wiera (a gold thread), akin to the Old High German wieren (to adorn) & wiara (gold thread).  The Frankish forms alluded to the notion of "an ornament of refined gold" (most likely "of twisted gold wire"), from the Proto-Germanic wira- & wera-, a suffixed form of the primitive Indo-European root wei- (to turn, twist).  Variations of garland exist in many Romanic languages including the Old Spanish guarlanda, the French guirlande, the Italian ghirlanda and the Portuguese grinalda.  The verb in the sense of "to make a garland" or "to crown with a garland" emerged in the late sixteenth century.  Garland & garlanding are nouns & verbs, garlanded is a verb & adjective, garlander is a noun and garlandless is an adjective; the noun plural is garlands.

Commitment issues: Hamlet and Ophelia by Agnes Pringle (1853-1934)

Flowers appealed to William Shakespeare (1564–1616) as a literary device because their myriad of attributes, color, shape, fragrance, thorns, fragility et al, offered so many metaphors for the human condition.  In the plays, over two-hundred species of plants are mentioned and thirty-odd scenes are set in gardens or orchids.  In Hamlet (Act IV, scene 5), there’s a harvest in Ophelia’s garland speech to her brother Laertes:

There's rosemary, that's for remembrance. Pray you, love, remember.  And there is pansies, that's for thoughts.  There's fennel for you, and columbines. There's rue for you, and here's some for me; we may call it herb of grace o' Sundays.  O, you must wear your rue with a difference.  There's a daisy.  I would give you some violets, but they withered all when my father died. (Act IV, scene 5)

There were fantastic garlands did she come. Of crow-flowers, nettles, daisies and long purples, that liberal shepherds give a grosser name, but our cold maids do dead men’s fingers call them. (Act IV, Scene 7)

There were fantastic garlands did she come, Of crow-flowers, nettles, daisies and long purples. (Act IV, Scene 7)

Rosemary (Salvia rosmarinus or Rosmarinus officinalis (pre 2017)

Since Antiquity, rosemary has been associated with remembrance, Athenian students at study wore garlands of rosemary as a memory improvement tool.  The name is derived from the Latin rosmarinus (dew of the sea), a reference to its blue petals and habitat atop Mediterranean cliffs.  In Shakespeare's day, rosemary was in both the wedding bouquets carried by bridesmaids and the wreaths laid at funeral wreaths.  A contemporary poet, Robert Herrick (1591-1674) , wrote in a verse “Grow it for two ends, it matters not at all, Be it for my bridall or buriall."  In English folklore, a man who couldn't smell the fragrant shrub was thought incapable of loving a woman though in the same tradition, if rosemary was planted in front of a cottage, it was held to mean the woman was the head of the household.  That was one folk belief said to have caused the up-rooting of not a few plants.  Helpfully, it was said also to repel plague and witches while sleeping with a sprig beneath the pillow prevented nightmares.  But for Ophelia, distraught at her father's death and Hamlet's odd behavior, the mention of rosemary indicates to her brother and the Elizabethan audience her brittle feelings and lack of confidence: "Pray you, love, remember."

Daisy (Bellis perennis, bruisewort or woundwort)

The Daisy’s botanical name is friom the Latin bellis (pretty), the English from the Anglo Saxon daeges eage (day’s eye); poetically, that was because the petals open during the day and close at night.  Long associated with childhood and innocence, in Scotland and the north of England it’s known also as Bairnwort (bairn a dialectical word for child).  In Roman mythology, the daisy was the virginal nymph Belides who transformed herself into the flower to escape the sexual advances of the orchard god Vertumnus.  The flower was symbolic of the Greco-Roman goddesses Aphrodite and Venus as well as Freya, the Norse goddess of beauty and love for whom Friday is named. The legend is that daisies picked between noon and one can be dried and carried as a good luck charm and in English fields, to this day some children still make daisy chains although those who do grow up to become emos.  Unlike the other plants in Ophelia's garland, the daisy seems to possess only good connotations but Shakespeare has Ophelia announce the daisy but not hand it out, the implication being there’s no innocence or purity at court.

Pansy (Viola × wittrockiana)

The word pansy is from the French pensée (for thoughts), the botanical name tricolor a referece to the three main shades, white, purple and yellow, the heart shaped petals thought to help heal a broken heart, so it was known also as heartease.  Pansies, as Ophelia notes, are for thoughts and it was also used medicinally, a curative for cramps, hysteria and diarrhea in children.  In A Midsummer Night's Dream, the fairy King Oberon mixes a potion with the flower's juice: if dropped on the eyelids of a sleeper, it was said they would awake to fall in love with whatever they first see, hence the unfortunate Titania, Oberon's wife, falling in love with a donkey.

Fennel (Foeniculum vulgare)

Apparently, fennel is among the vegetables children most dislike.  Pre-dating Shakespeare, Fennel was long regarded as an emblem of false flattery, noted famously in Robert Greene’s (1558-1592) Quip for an Upstart Courtier (1592), the link apparently being the seeds popularity as an appetite suppressant to aid fasting pilgrims, thus becoming symbolic of things that appear to give sustenance but have none.  Empty flattery to hunger.  Shakespeare used fennel often, Falstaff mentioning it in Henry IV, Part 2 and for Ophelia, it’s an allusion to her sterile love affair with Hamlet.

Columbine (Aquilegia or granny's bonnet)

The Columbine, known also as granny’s bonnet, was a wild flower but its beauty made it a popular Elizabethan garden flower, the botanical name from the Latin aquila (eagle) because the petals were thought to resemble an eagle’s talons.  In a more gentle avian vein, the English is derived from the Latin columba (dove), a reference to its nectaries being vaguely reminiscent of the heads of doves.  To Shakespeare, the columbine had a number of symbolic associations.  The poet George Chapman (1559-1634) suggested it was emblematic of ingratitude and William Browne (1590–1645) declared it stood only for forsaken and neglected love for in England it also symbolized cuckoldom as the nectaries did look like horns.  More helpfully, as the "thankless flower", the seeds, if taken with wine, were said to induce labor.

Rue (Ruta graveolens or herb-of-grace)

By Shakespeare’s time, rue had been for centuries a symbol of sorrow and repentance and it’s a long, fabled history. Rue was the plant that King Mithridates VI of Pontus (135-16 BC) imbibed to protect himself against poisoning and the Greek physician Hippocrates (circa 460-circa 370 BC) recommended it to relieve rheumatic pains, heart palpitations and menopausal symptoms.  The herb's name is derived from the Greek ruta (repentance) and the Athenians used it while dining with foreigners to ward off evil demons, spells and spirits whereas in Ancient Rome it was said to improve eyesight.  Its other names, Herb o' Grace or Herb o' Sundays, refers to the sorrow and resulting grace one feels after true repentance and the suit of clubs in a deck of cards was modeled after rue's fleshy, oblong leaves.  It remains a call to regret and repent past evil deeds; due to its strong aromatic smell and bitter taste, the plant has long been symbolic of sorrow, regret and repentance, hence the expression “you’ll rue the day”.  In Elizabethan England (1558-1603), it was carried around as protection against plague and witchcraft and even as an insect repellent. When Ophelia hands it to Queen Gertrude in Hamlet, it is a subtle rebuke of her faithlessness.  In moderation, rue was used to hasten labor but in larger doses, was known to be an abortifacient, hence the speculation that when Ophelia utters the lines "there's rue for you, and here's some for me", it’s a confession of unwanted pregnancy and another reason for ending her life.

Violet (Viola)

Francis Bacon (1561-1626) in his essay Of Gardens (1625) wrote the violet was “that which above all others yields the sweetest smell” and they’ve always been prized too for their beauty.  Despite this, there’s the association with melancholy and early death, expressed in Hamlet when Ophelia laments she has no Violets to give to the court because “they withered when my father died” and it’s Laertes’ wish that violets “may spring” from Ophelia’s grave.  There’s a duality of meaning in Ophelia’s statement; she’s lamenting not only the death of her father the lack of faithfulness and fidelity in the court.

Lindsay Lohan in sheer black gown with embroidered garlands, Francesco Scognamiglio's (b 1975) spring 2015 collection, Naples, June 2015.