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 sandals and the artist immediately took his brushes and pallet and touched-up the 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", if they turn out to give answers which generate audience numbers, controversy or clicks, they become "talent" and may be 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 gong 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

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

In 1973, when a million dollars was a still lot of money, the NGA (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 although the suggestion in 2016 the value may have inflated to as much as US$350 million was though to be "on the high side".  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, fibres, and broken wooden sticks on canvas.

Although the general public remained uninterested (except in 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 lots of 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’s not art, anyone could do 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” by which she meant the wouldn't necessarily come up with anything of which the critical establishment (a kind of freemasonry of the art business) would approve (ie could put a price tag on).

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

In 2010, Ms Harrison 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".

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; 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 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".

Blue Poles, upside down.

Although the suggestion might offend the trained and discerning eyes of art critics, it’s doubtful that for ultracrepidarians the experience of viewing Blue Poles would much be different were it to be hung upside down.  Fortunately, the world does have a goodly stock of art critics who can explain that while Pollock did more than once say his works should be interpreted “subjectively”, their intended orientation is a part of the whole and an inversion would change the visual dynamics and gravitational illusions upon which the abstraction effects depend would be changed.  It would still be a painting but, in a sense, not the one the artist painted.  Because the drip technique involved “flinging and poring paint” onto a canvas spread across a studio’s floor, there was not exactly a randomness in where the paint landed but physics did mean gravity exerted some pull (in flight and on the ground), lending layers and rivulets what must be a specific downward orientation.  Thus, were the work to be hung inverted, what was in the creative process a downward flow would be seen as “flowing uphill” as it were.  The compositional elements which lent the work its name were course the quasi-vertical “poles” placed at slight angles and its these which are the superstructure which “anchor” the rest of the drips and, being intrinsically “directional”, they too have a “right way up”.  There is in the assessment of art the “eye of the beholder” but although it may be something they leave unstated, most critics will be of the “some eyes are more equal than others” school.

Mondrian’s 1941 New York City 1 as it (presumably correctly) sat in the artist's studio in 1944 (left) and as it was since 1945 exhibited (upside-down) in New York and Düsseldorf (right).  Spot the difference.

So although ultracrepidarians may not “get it” (even after digesting the critics’ explanations) and wouldn’t be able to tell whether or not it was hung correctly, that’s because they’re philistines.  In the world of abstract art however, even the critics can be fooled: in 2022, it was revealed a work in Piet Mondrian’s (1872-1944) 1941 New York City 1 series had for 77 years been hanging upside down.  First in exhibited in 1945 in New York’s MOMA (Museum of Modern Art), the piece was created with multi-colored adhesive paper tape and, in an incorrect orientation, it has since 1980 hung in the Düsseldorf Museum as part of the Kunstsammlung Nordrhein-Westfalen’s collection.  The decades-long, trans-Atlantic mistake came to light during a press conference held to announce the Kunstsammlung’s new Mondrian exhibition and the conclusion was the error may have been caused by something as simple as the packing-crate being overturned or misleading instructions being given to the staff.  1941 New York City 1 will remain upside because of the condition of the adhesive strips.  “The adhesive tapes are already extremely loose and hanging by a thread” a curator was quoted as saying, adding that if it were now to be turned-over, “…gravity would pull it into another direction.  And it’s now part of the work’s story.”  Mondrian was one of the more significant theorists of abstract art and its withdrawal from nature and natural subjects.  “Denaturalization” he proclaimed to be a milestone in human progress, adding: “The power of neo-plastic painting lies in having shown the necessity of this denaturalization in painterly terms... to denaturalize is to abstract... to abstract is to deepen.”  Now even ultracrepidarians can understand.

Eye of the beholder: Portrait of Lindsay Lohan in the style of Claude Monet (1840–1926) 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.

Eye of the prompt 1.0: An AI (artificial intelligence) generated portrait of Lindsay Lohan by ChatGPT imagined in "drip painting style", this one using an interpretation which overlaid "curated drips" over "flung paint".  This could be rendered using Ms Harrison's Jackson Pollock Box but would demand some talent.

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.

Eye of the prompt 1.1: An AI (artificial intelligence) generated portrait of Lindsay Lohan by ChatGPT imagined in "drip painting style", this one closer to Pollock’s “action painting” technique.

His drip period wholly non-representational, Pollock didn’t produce recognizable portraiture so applying the technique for this purpose demands guesswork.  As AI illustrates, it can be done but, in blending two incompatible modes, whether it looks much like what Pollock would have produced had he accepted a “paint Lindsay Lohan” commission, is wholly speculative.  What is more likely is that even if some sort of hybrid, a portrait by Pollock would have been an abstraction altogether more chaotic and owing little to the structure on which such works usually depend in that there probably would have been no central focal point, fewer hints of symmetry and a use of shading producing a face not lineal in its composition.  That’s what his sense of “continuous motion” dictated: no single form becoming privileged over the rest.  So, this too is not for the literalists schooled in the tradition of photo-realism but as a work it’s also an example of how most armed with Ms Harrison's Jackson Pollock Box could with "drip & fling" produce this but not necessarily would produce this, chaos on canvas needing talent too.

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 stuff as diverse as math 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 execution or engineering can be forgivgen.  New York’s MOMA in 1972 acknowledged 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 (sometimes informally as XKE or XK-E in the US) 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 International Motor Show (now defunct but, on much the same basis as manufacturers east of Suez buying brand-names such as MG, Jaguar and such, the name has been purchased for use by an event in staged in Qatar) when the E-Type made its stunning debut and part of 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 to this day many 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 would prefer it in BRG (British Racing Green) over tan leather) and although as a piece of design it's not flawless, anyone who can't see the beauty in a Series 1 E-Type OTS is truly an ultracrepidarian.   

Etching

Etching (pronounced ech-ing)

(1) The art, act or process of making designs or pictures on a metal plate, glass etc, by the corrosive action of an acid instead of by a burin.

(2) An impression, as on paper, taken from an etched plate.

(3) The design so produced.

(4) A flat (usually metal) plate bearing such a design.

1625–1635: The construct was etch + -ing.  The verb etch was from the Dutch etsen (to engrave by eating away the surface of with acids), from the German ätzen (to etch), from the Old High German azzon (to cause to bite or feed), from the Proto-Germanic atjaną, causative of etaną (to eat), from the primitive Indo-European root ed- (to eat) (from these sources English gained “eat”).  The suffix –ing was from the Middle English -ing, from the Old English –ing & -ung (in the sense of the modern -ing, as a suffix forming nouns from verbs), from the Proto-West Germanic –ingu & -ungu, from the Proto-Germanic –ingō & -ungō. It was cognate with the Saterland Frisian -enge, the West Frisian –ing, the Dutch –ing, The Low German –ing & -ink, the German –ung, the Swedish -ing and the Icelandic –ing; All the cognate forms were used for the same purpose as the English -ing).  The “etching scribe” was a needle-sharp steel tool for incising into plates in etching and the production of dry points.  Etching is a noun & verb; the noun plural is etchings.

The noun was the present participle and gerund of etch (the verbal noun from the verb etch) and was used also in the sense of “the art of engraving”; by the 1760s, it was used also to mean “a print etc, made from an etched plate" and the plates themselves.  The term etching (to cut into a surface with an acid or other corrosive substance in order to make a pattern) is most associated with the creation of printing plates for the production of artistic works but the technique was used also as a way to render decorative patterns on metal.  In modern use, it’s also a term used in the making of circuit boards.  In idiomatic use (often as “etched in the memory”), it’s used of events, ideas etc which are especially memorable (for reasons good and ill) and as a slang word meaning “to sketch; quickly to draw”.  The Etch A Sketch drawing toy was introduced 1960 by Ohio Art Company; a kind of miniature plotter, it was a screen with two knobs which moved a stylus horizontally & vertically, displacing an aluminum powder to produce solid lines.  To delete the creation, the user physically shook the device which returned the powder to its original position, blanking the screen.

Rembrandt's Jan Asselyn, Painter (1646) (left) and Faust (circa 1652).  Rembrandt (Rembrandt Harmenszoon van Rijn (1606-1669)) wasn’t the most prolific etcher but remains among the most famous and his output provides an illustrative case-study in the evolution of his mastering of the technique, his early work really quite diffident compared with his later boldness.

What came to be known as etching gained the name from the Germanic family of words meaning “eat & “to eat”, the transferred sense an allusion to the acid which literally would “eat the metal”.   Etching is an intaglio (from the Italian intagliare (to engrave)) technique in printmaking, a term which includes methods such as hard and soft ground etching, engraving, dry-point, mezzotint and aquatint, all of which use an ink transferring process.  In this, a design is etched into a plate, the ink added over the whole surface plate before a scrim (historically starched cheesecloth) is used to force the ink into the etched areas and remove any excess.  Subsequently, the plate (along with dampened paper) is run through a press at high pressure, forcing the paper into etched areas containing the ink.  The earliest known signed and dated etching was created by Swiss Renaissance goldsmith Urs Graf (circa 1485-circa 1525) in 1513 and it’s from those who worked with gold that almost all forms of engraving are ultimately derived.

Lindsay Lohan, 1998, rendered in the style of etchings.

A phrase which was so beloved by comedy writers in the early-mid twentieth century that it became a cliché was “Want to come up and see my etchings?”, a euphemism for seduction.  Probably now a “stranded phrase”, the saying was based on some fragments of text in a novel by Horatio Alger Jr (1832–1899), a US author regarded as the first to formalize as genre fiction the “rags-to-riches” stories which had since the early days of the republic been the essence of the “American Dream” although it wasn’t until the twentieth century the term came into common use (often it’s now used ironically).

The practice of making etchings, woodcuts or engravings of famous paintings became popular, both artistically and commercially (which may for this purpose be much the same thing) in the late sixteenth century and developed over the next 250-odd years, an evolution tied closely to technological progress in printmaking and the materials available to artists.  The trend seems to have been accelerated by the spread in northern Europe (notably certain districts in Antwerp, Rome and Paris) of copperplate etching & engraving and while it may be dubious to draw conclusions from the works which have survived, the artists most re-produced clearly included Titian (Tiziano Vecellio, circa 1490-1576), Raphael (Raffaello Sanzio da Urbino, 1483–1520) and Michelangelo (Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni; 1475–1564), the most prolific in the business of reproductive engraving including the Dutch specialist Cornelis Cort (circa 1533–circa 1578 and known in Italy where he spent his final years as Cornelio Fiammingo) and the Flemish Sadeler family, scions of which operated in many European cities.

Melencolia I (Melancholy I (1514)), etching by the German painter & printmaker Albrecht Dürer (1471–1528).

By the seventeenth century, the practice was well established and an entrenched part of the art market, fulfilling some of the functions which would later be absorbed by photography and Peter Paul Rubens (1577-1640), among others, employed in his studio engravers whose task was to reproduce his paintings for sale with those etchings available in a variety of sizes (and thus price-points so there’s little which is new in the structures of the modern art market).  Again, in the eighteenth century, technological determinism interplayed with public taste as techniques were refined to adapt the works to what wasn’t exactly a production line but certainly an arrangement which made possible larger and more rapid volumes with printing houses commissioning runs (which could be in the hundreds) of engravings following (faithfully and not) British and Continental paintings, advances in mezzotint meaning a greater tonal range had become possible, mimicking the light and shade of oil paintings.  In genteel homes, various institutions and even museums, it was entirely respectable to have hanging: “prints after the Old Masters”.

But as technology giveth, so can it taketh away and it was the late eighteenth century invention of lithography and, a few decades later photography, which triggered a decline in demand, the constantly improving quality of the new mediums gradually displacing reproductive etching in the marketplace although the tradition didn’t die as artists such as Francisco Goya (1746–1828), Eugène Delacroix (1798–1863) and Édouard Manet (1832–1883) maintained (or, in a sense, “revived”) etching as a creative rather than reproductive discipline and historians regards the early-mid nineteenth century as the era in which etching became a legitimate genre in art and not merely a means cheaply of distributing representations of existing works.

Self portrait: reflection (1996), etching by Lucian Freud (1922–2011).

Under modern copyright law, as a general principle, the selling of etchings of works still in copyright is not lawful without the permission from the holder of the rights and while details differ between jurisdictions, the basic rule of modern law (the Berne Convention, EU directives, national statutes) is that the sale (or even public display) of a reproduction or derivative work (the latter something which obviously follows without being an obvious duplicate of a copyrighted artwork) requires the consent of the copyright owner.  That protection tends in most jurisdictions to last 70 years after the death of the artist (the “life + 70” rule) and what matters is not that a reproduction is new (in the sense of the physical object) but that it is derivative because (1) to a high degree it emulates the composition, form(s), and expression of the original and (2) in appearance it to a high degree resembles a pre-existing, protected work.  Thus, if produced and offered for sale without permission, the object will infringe on the rights of whoever holds exclusive or delegated rights of reproduction or adaptation.  With exact or close replicas it’s not difficult for court to determine whether rights have been violated but at the margins, such as where works are “in the style of”, of “influenced by”, judgments are made on a case-by-case basis, the best publicized in recent years being those involving pop music.

The Lovers (circa 1528), etching by Parmigianino (Girolamo Francesco Maria Mazzola, 1503-1540) of the Italian Mannerist school.

All that means is one (usually) can sell reproductions of works by those dead for at least 70 years and even works “in their style” as long as there’s no attempt to misrepresent them as the product of their original artist’s hand.  There are in copyright exceptions such as “fair dealing” & “fair use” but their range is narrow and limited to fields such as criticism, review, education or satire and does not extend to normal commercial transactions.  Additionally, there’s a work-around in that if something is found to have been sufficiently “transformed”, it can be regarded as a new work but this exception tightly is policed and the threshold high.  Additionally, in recent years, as museums and galleries have put content on-line, what has emerged is the additional complication of such an institution hanging on its walls paintings long out of copyright yet asserting copyright on its commissioned photographs of those works.  That development must have delighted lawyers working in the lucrative field but the courts came to read-down the scope, most following the principles explained in an action before the US Federal District Court (Bridgeman Art Library v. Corel Corp., 36 F. Supp. 2d 191 (S.D.N.Y. 1999), which held (1) copyright in a photograph can in many cases exist but, (2) if a photograph is a “purely mechanical copy of a public-domain work” there usually no protection, even if the taking of the image required technical skill in lighting, angle selection and such.

Morphinomanes (Morphine Addicts, 1887), etching and and drypoint by French artist Albert Besnard (1849–1934).

There was still something for the lawyers because inherently there remained two separate layers of rights at play: (1) copyright (intellectual property) which belongs usually to the artist or their estate and (2) the property rights (ownership of the physical object) which are held by whomever may possess lawful title to the object (this may align with possession but not of necessity).  In other words a museum will likely own the paint & canvas yet not the copyright, something analogous with the discovery made by the few diligent souls who troubled themselves to read the small print they’d agreed to when installing software: in most cases one had lawful title to the physical media (diskette, CD, DVD etc) but often nothing more than a revocable licence to use a single instance of the software. It’s possible lawfully to produce and sell etchings of Goya (the artist having had the decency to drop dead more than 70 years ago) but one may not without permission reproduce or trace from a museum’s copyrighted photo of a Goya (and institutions sometimes maintain separate conditions of use for low and high-resolution images).  Even if one paints, draws or etches by hand, depending on this and that, a court can still hold there’s been a “substantial reproduction” of the composition, colour and such has been effected and thus there’s been an infringement of the underlying copyright.  So, the rules in this area are (1) proceed with caution if producing art not wholly original and (2) if a young lady is asked: “Want to come up and see my etchings?”, she should proceed with caution.

Hellacious

Hellacious (pronounced he-ley-shuhs)

(1) Horrible, awful, hellish, agonizing

(2) Nasty, repellent.

(3) Formidably difficult.

(4) In slang, remarkable, astonishing, unbelievable, unusual.

1930s: US campus slang, the construct being from hell + -acious.  Hell dates from pre 900 and was from the Middle English Hell, from the Old English hel & hell (nether world, abode of the dead, infernal regions, place of torment for the wicked after death).  In the sense of “pour” it was cognate with the Old High German hella & hellia (source of the Modern German Hölle), the Icelandic hella (to pour), the Norwegian helle (to pour), the Swedish hälla (to pour), the Old Norse hel & hella and the Gothic halja.  It was related to the Old English helan (to cover, hide) and to hull.  The Old English gained hel & hell from the Proto-Germanic haljō (the underworld) & halija (one who covers up or hides something), the source also of the Old Frisian helle, the Old Saxon hellia, the Dutch hel, the Old Norse hel, the German Hölle & the Gothic halja (hell).  The meaning in the early Germanic languages was derived from the sense of a "concealed place", hence the Old Norse hellir meaning "cave or cavern", from the primitive Indo-European root kel (to cover, conceal, save).  In sacred art, Hell, whether frozen or afire, is often depicted as a cavernous place.  Hell is a noun & verb; hellman, hellcat, hellhound & hellfare are nouns and hellish, helllike, hellproof & helly are adjectives; the noun plural is hells.

In the sense of “the underworld”, it was cognate with the Saterland Frisian Hälle (hell), the West Frisian hel (hell), the Dutch hel (hell), the German Low German Hell (hell), the German Hölle (hell), the Norwegian helvete (hell) and the Icelandic hel (the abode of the dead, death). The English traditions of use were much influenced by Norse mythology and the Proto-Germanic forms.  In the Norse myths, Halija (one who covers up or hides something) was the name of the daughter of Loki who rules over the evil dead in Niflheim, the lowest of all worlds (from nifl (mist)) and it was not uncommon for pagan concepts and traditions to be grafted onto Christian rituals and idiom.  Hell was used figuratively to describe a state of misery or bad experience (of which there must have been many in the Middle Ages) since the late fourteenth century and as an expression of disgust by the 1670s.  In eighteenth century England, there were a number of Hellfire Clubs, places where members of the elite could indulge their “immoral proclivities”.  The clubs were said to attract many politicians.

The suffix –acious suffix was used to form adjectives from nouns and verb stems and produced many familiar forms (audacious from audacity, sagacious from sage, fallacious from fallacy etc).  There were also formations which became rare or were restricted to specialized fields including fumacious ((1) smoky or (2) fond of smoking tobacco), lamentacious (characterized by lamentation (sorrow, distress or regret)), marlacious (containing large quantities of marl (in geology, a mixed earthy substance, consisting of carbonate of lime, clay, and possibly sand, in very variable proportions, and accordingly designated as calcareous, clayey, or sandy), and punacious (an individual prone to punning (making puns).  The suffix was attractive also when coining fanciful terms such as quizzacious (mocking or satirical (based on the verb quiz (in the sense of “to mock”) and bodacious.  Bodacious remains probably the best known in this genre and seems to have begun as US slang, south of the Mason-Dixon Line and was (as bodaciously) documented as early as 1837 but may previously have been part of the oral tradition.  Etymologists conclude it was either (1) a blend of bold and audacious or a back-formation from bodyaciously (bodily, totally, root and branch) which seems to have been most prevalent is South Carolina where it was used in the sense of “the process of totally wrecking something”.  In the US the word evolved to mean (1) audacious and unrestrained, (2) incorrigible and insolent and (3) impressively great in size, and enormous; extraordinary.  In the early twentieth century, apparently influenced by campus use (presumably male students in this linguistic vanguard) it was a synonym for “a sexy, attractive girl” and this may have influenced users in the internet age who seem to have assumed first element came directly from “body”.

Of being hungry in the heat: Fox News, July 2006.

According to linguistic trend-setters Fox News, “hellacious” is the best word to describe the state of being “hot & hungry” so it’s not a portmanteau like “hangry” (one who is “hungry & angry”, the construct being h(ungry) + angry) but Fox News says it’s the best word so it must be true.  Hellacious was likely from the tradition of audacious, sagacious, vivacious etc and came to be a word with intensive or augmentative force.  Because it can mean something negative (horrible, awful, hellish, agonizing, nasty, repellent etc), something challenging (formidably difficult) or (used as slang) something positive (remarkable, astonishing, unbelievable, unusual), the context in which it’s used can be important in determining quite the sense intended.  Even then, if there’s not enough to work with, an author’s meaning can be ambiguous.  Fort the fastidious the comparative is “more hellacious” and the superlative “most hellacious” and the (rare) alternative spellings are helatious & hellaceous.  Hellacious is an adjective, hellaciousness is a noun, hellaciously is an adverb.

Google ngram (a quantitative and not qualitative measure).

For technical reasons this should not be taken too seriously but Google’s ngram appears to suggest use of “hellacious” has spiked every time the US has elected as president the Republican Party nominee, sharp increases in use associated with the terms of Richard Nixon (1913-1994; US president 1969-1974), Ronald Reagan (1911-2004; US president 1981-1989), George W Bush (George XLIII, b 1946; US president 2001-2009) and Donald Trump (b 1946; US president 2017-2021 and since 2025).  Political junkies can make of this what the will.  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.

“Hellacious” appears in many lists of obscure words, often with an explanatory note with a parenthesized “rare” although nobody seem yet to classify it “archaic” and it’s certainly not “extinct”.  Improbably (or perhaps not), the word made a rare appearance when an E-mail from Sarah, Duchess of York (Sarah Ferguson; b 1959) to convicted paedophile Jeffrey Epstein (1953–2019) was published in England by the tabloid press and what was of interest was (1) her choice of words, (2) the date on which those words were written and (3) her previously expressed views on the man.  What prompted her in 2011 to write the E-mail was Epstein’s reaction to the duchess having a few weeks earlier, in an interview with the Evening Standard, publicly distanced herself from the disgraced financier, apologizing, inter-alia, for having accepted his gift of Stg£15,000, declaring she would “have nothing ever to do with him” again, that her involvement with him had been a “gigantic error of judgment”, adding “I abhor paedophilia and any sexual abuse of children”.  She promised never again to make contact.  Just to ensure she got the message across, she concluded: “I cannot state more strongly that I know a terrible, terrible error of judgement was made, my having anything to do with Jeffrey Epstein.  What he did was wrong and for which he was rightly jailed.”  He had been handed a three year sentence for soliciting prostitution from a minor.

The Duchess of York, who did not say the “P word”.

Despite that unambiguous statement, some weeks later she sent him an E-mail assuring the convicted paedophile she had not in the interview attached the label “paedophilia” to him: “As you know, I did not, absolutely not, say the 'P word' about you but understand it was reported that I did”, adding “I know you feel hellaciously let down by me.  You have always been a steadfast, generous and supreme friend to me and my family.”  As it transpired, “generous was a good choice of word.  Immediately details of the E-mail were published, the duchess’s office went into SOP (standard operating procedure) “damage control mode”, a spokesperson asserting the E-mail was written in an attempt to counter a threat Epstein had made to sue her for defamation, explaining: “The duchess spoke of her regret about her association with Epstein many years ago, and as they have always been, her first thoughts are with his victims.  Like many people, she was taken in by his lies.  As soon as she was aware of the extent of the allegations against him, she not only cut off contact but condemned him publicly, to the extent that he then threatened to sue her for defamation for associating him with paedophilia.”

Some might think it strange one would fear being sued for defamation by a convicted paedophile on the basis of having said “what he did was wrong and for which he was rightly jailed” but a quirk of defamation law is one can succeed in every aspect of one’s defense yet still be left with a ruinously expensive bill so the spokesperson’s claim the “…E-mail was sent in the context of advice the Duchess was given to try to assuage Epstein and his threats” may be true.  Epstein died by suicide while in custody (despite the rumours he may have been one of the many victims of “Arkancide” and murdered on the orders of crooked Hillary Clinton (b 1947; US secretary of state 2009-2013) there is no evidence to support this) and the duchess’s unfortunate communication was but one of the consequences of Epstein’s conduct, the ripples of which continue to disturb the lives of his many victims and, allegedly, the rich, famous and well-connected who may have been “supplied” with under-age sexual partners from Epstein’s “stock”.  Tellingly there appears to be much more interest in identities of the latter than concern for the former.

Peter Mandelson, 8 August 1988, cibachrome print by Steve Speller (b 1961), Photographs Collection, National Portrait Gallery, London.  In a coincidence, the duchess’s eldest daughter (Princess Beatrice, Mrs Edoardo Mapelli Mozzi) was born on 8 August 1988 and in the weird world of the astrologers, the date 8/8/88 is “linked with abundance and is one of the most powerful dates for manifestation in the calendar”.  The date 8/8/88 is also a rather tawdry footnote in Australian political history.  Early in October 1987, the National Party's embattled Sir Joh Bjelke-Petersen (1911–2005; premier of Queensland 1968-1987) convened a press conference at which he announced he intended to retire on “the eighth of the eighth of eighty-eight”, the significance being that would mark 20 years to the day since he'd been sworn in as premier.  As things turned out, his support within the party collapsed as revelations continued to emerge from an on-going enquiry into corruption in the state and on 1 December 1987 he was compelled to resign, jumping while being pushed along the plank as it were.  Although he was in 1991 tried for perjury and corruption, the trial was abandoned after the jury was unable to agree on a verdict.  It soon emerged that while eleven jury members found the Crown's case as convincing as just about anyone else who heard the evidence, one did not and that was the jury foreman (Luke Shaw, b 1971) who was a member of the “Young Nats” (the National Party's youth wing).  In 1992, the special prosecutor announced the Crown would not seek a second trial on the grounds that, at 81, Sir Joh was “too old”.  Sometimes one gets lucky.

Claims the duchess's former husband (Prince Andrew, Duke of York, b 1960) sexually abused a woman he was introduced to by Epstein were settled out of court (with no admission of liability and the payment of an “undisclosed sum”) and recently, the UK government sacked its erstwhile Ambassador to the US (Lord Mandelson (one time New Labour luminary Peter Mandelson (b 1953)) after revelations emerged confirming his association with Epstein was rather different than what he’d previously disclosed (there has been no suggestion Epstein supplied Lord Mandelson with males younger than the statuary age of consent).  Quite what else will emerge from documents in the hands of a US congressional panel remains to be seen but there’s a groundswell of clamour for complete disclosure and the renitence of the authorities to do exactly that has led to much speculation about “who is being protected and by whom”.  Noting that, many of Epstein’s victims have been in contact with each other and are threatening to compile a list “naming names”; when that is leaked (or otherwise revealed), it will be among the more keenly anticipated documents of recent years.

Also intriguing is whether Lord Mandelson (who has a history of "comebacks from adversity" to rival that of the Duchess of York), might wash up in Gaza as some part of the "interim governing body" Sir Tony Blair (b 1953; UK prime-minister 1997-2007) has offered to lead.  Pencilled-in as Gaza's "supreme political and legal authority" for up to five years, reports suggest Sir Tony would preside over a seven person board and a secretariat of two-dozen odd so, given how highly he valued "Mandy's" presence while in Downing Street, he might find somewhere to "slot in" Lord Mandelson.  Of course his Lordship would not be an ideal "cultural fit" for Gaza but as he'd tell Sir Tony, fixing that is just a matter of "media management".  Middle East politics is one thing but what's of interest to the English tabloids and celebrity gossip magazines is whether the (latest) downfall of the Duchess of York is this time “final”.  It was Benjamin Disraeli (1804-1881, later First Earl of Beaconsfield; UK prime-minister Feb-Dec 1868 & 1874-1880) who famously observed “finality is not the language of politics” and on countless occasions he’s been proved right but so frequent have been the duchess’s indiscretions the press is (again) asking whether this time there can be no comeback.  The extent of Epstein’s “generosity” was illustrated by uncontested revelations the duchess accepted from him not only the Stg£15,000 to which she admitted but also a further Stg£2 million ($A4 million), needed at the time to stave off bankruptcy.  Despite it all, it still can’t be certain this really is the end of her remarkably durable career as a public figure which has survived many scandals including:

(1) In 1992 (while still married), she was photographed having her toes sucked by a man (not her husband) while enjoying some topless sunbathing.  Interestingly, sex therapists do recommend toe sucking (and other “toe & foot” play) because (1a) the nerves in the feet are sensitive and (1b) toe sucking is likely to be a novel sexual experience, something rare for most jaded adults.  They do however caution the feet should be immaculately clean, prior to beginning any sucking.

(2) In 2010 she was filmed (with a hidden camera) while offering to sell “access” to the Duke of York (for a reputed US$1 million in 2010) before departing the room with a briefcase filled with cash.

Sister Princess Eugenie (Mrs Jack Brooksbank; b 1990, left) and father Prince Andrew (right) looking at Princess Beatrice's soon to be (in)famous Philip Treacy fascinator, Westminster Abbey, London, 29 April 2011.  Until she appeared wearing this construction, most photographs of Princess Beatrice had focused on her lovely sanpaku eyes.  Opinion in the celebrity gossip magazines was divided on whether Eugenie's glance suggested envy or scepticism.

(3) In 2011, she did not prevent her eldest daughter attending the wedding of Prince William (b 1982) and Catherine Middleton (b 1982) while wearing a “distinctive” fascinator by Irish society milliner Philip Treacy (b 1967).  It was derided as a “ridiculous wedding hat” which seems unfair because it was a playful design which wasn’t that discordant upon the head on which it sat and was the only memorable headgear seen on the day, added to which it was symmetrical which is these days is genuinely a rarity in fascinators.  It was later sold at a charity auction for US$131,560 (said to be a record for such creations) so there was that.  Interestingly, some two years after the princess's fascinator made such an impression, the milliner gave an interview to the UK's Sunday Times in which he proclaimed: “The fascinator is dead and I’m delighted.”  Asked why his view had changed, he explained: “The word fascinator sounds like a dodgy sex toy and what’s so fascinating about a fascinator?  Mass production means that they became so cheap to produce that now they are no more than headbands with a feather stuck on with a glue gun. We’re seeing a return to proper hats.”  Clearly, association with a "cheap" product worn by chavs was no place for a "society milliner" although the journalist did suggest the Mr Treacy's change of heart may have followed Elizabeth II (1926-2022; Queen of the UK and other places, 1952-2022) in 2012 banning fascinators from the Royal Enclosure at the Royal Ascot, meaning the creations were not just passé but proscribed.  If thinking back to that day in Westminster Abbey, the journalist may have been tempted to suggest Mr Treacy write a book called: The Fascinator, My Part in its Downfall but any temptation was resisted.  Despite the obituary, the fascinator seems alive and well and the fashion magazines provide guidance to help race-goers and others pick "a good one" from "a chav one".

Since the 2011 E-mail’s publication, charities, some of which have, through thick & thin, for decades maintained their association, rushed to sever ties with the duchess.  Whether this time it really is the end of her “public life” remains to be seen but if the worst comes to the worst, can always resort to a nom de plume and write another book.  A prolific author, she has published more than two-dozen, mostly children’s titles or romances for Mills & Boon and, despite the snobby views of some, those two genres do require different literary techniques.

Gaza

Nobody seems to have used the word “hellacious” in relation to the state of armed conflict (most having abandoned that euphemism and just calling it a “war”) which has existed in Gaza since October 2023 but, used in the sense of “horrible, awful, hellish or agonizing”, few terms seem more appropriate.  Over the last quarter century odd, the word “Hell” has often appeared in discussions of the Middle East and the events in Gaza have made terms like “Hell on Earth”, “Hellscape” and “Hellish” oft-heard.  In a sense, the war in Gaza is just one more rung on the ladder down which the region has descended ever since many wise souls counseled George W Bush (George XLIII, b 1946; US president 2001-2009) that were the US to invade Iraq, that would be “opening the gates of Hell”.  One can argue about just when it was since then those gates were opened but in Gaza it does appear they’ve not just been flung open but torn from the hinges and cast to the depths.  What has happened since October 2023 has provided a number of interesting case studies in politics, military strategy and diplomacy, notably the stance taken by the Gulf states but given the extent of the human suffering it does seem distastefully macabre to discuss such things in clinical terms.

What soon became apparent was that Benjamin Netanyahu (b 1949; prime-minister of Israel 1996-1999, 2009-2021 and since 2022) had grasped what he regarded as a “once-in-a-lifetime” military and political environment created by the atrocities committed by the Hamas on 7 October 2023; were it not for the historical significance of the term, he’d likely have referred to his strategy as the “final solution to the Palestinian problem” (which at least some of his cabinet seem to equate with “the Palestinian presence”).  The basis of that strategy is the basis also for the dispute which has to varying extents existed since the creation of the state of Israel in 1948: There are two sides, each of which contains a faction which holds a “river to the sea” vision of national exclusivity which demands the exclusion of the other from the land.  Both factions are a minority but through one means or another they have long been the conflict’s political under-current and, on 7 October 2023, they became the central dynamic.  That dynamic’s respective world views are (1) the Palestinian people will not be free until the eradication of the state of Israel and (2) Jews and the state of Israel will not be safe until the removal of Palestinians from the land.  Mr Netanyahu’s cabinet expresses this as “the dismantling of the Hamas” but what they do is more significant than what they say.

Donald Trump (left) and Benjamin Netanyahu (right), the White House, Washington DC, March 25, 2019.

In Mr Netanyahu’s cabinet there is a spectrum of opinion but what appears now most prevalent is the most extreme: That the Palestinians wish to see the Jews eradicated (or exterminated or eliminated) from the land of Israel and as long as they are here the Jews cannot in their own land be safe so the Palestinians must go (somewhere else).  The gloss on the “somewhere else” long has been the mantra “there is already a Palestinian state; it is called Jordan and they should all go and live there” but in the region and beyond, that’s always been dismissed as chimerical.  The “somewhere else” paradigm though remains irresistible for the faction in Israel which, although once thought cast adrift from the moorings of political reality, finds itself not merely in cabinet but, in the Nacht und Nebel (night and fog) of war, able to pursue politics by other means in a way never before possible, the argument being the Hamas attack of 7 October meant the IDF (Israeli Defence Forces) were fighting a “just war”, thus the Old Testament style tactics.

In political discourse, the usual advice, sensibly, is that any comparisons with the Third Reich (1933-1945) should be avoided because the Nazis were so bad (some prefer “evil”) that comparisons tend to be absurd.  Historians have however pointed out some chilling echoes from the past in the positions which exist (and publically have been stated by some) in the Israeli cabinet.  Much the same world view was captured in a typically tart Tagebücher (diary) entry by Dr Joseph Goebbels (1897-1975; Nazi propaganda minister 1933-1945) on 27 March 1942:

“A judicial sentence is being carried out against the Jews which is certainly barbaric but which they have fully deserved.  In these matters, one cannot let sentimentally prevail.  If we do not defend ourselves against them, the Jews would exterminate us.  It is a life and dress struggle against the Jewish bacillus.  No other government and no other regime could muster the strength for a general solution of this question.  Thank God the war affords us a series of opportunities which were denied us in peacetime.  We must make use of them.”

Mr Netanyahu and his cabinet understand what the Hamas did on 7 October created “a series of opportunities” they never thought they’d have and, as the civilian death toll in Gaza (reckoned by September 2025 to be in excess of 65,000) attests, the IDF has made muscular use of the night and fog of war.  Of course the “somewhere else” fantasy of some Israeli politicians remains very different to the mass-murder alluded to by Goebbels or explicitly described by Heinrich Himmler (1900–1945; Reichsführer SS 1929-1945) in his infamous speech at Posen in October 1943 but what Mr Netanyahu has called his “historic and spiritual mission” of “generations” is creating a poison which will last a century or more.  For what is happening in Gaza, there seems no better word than “hellacious”.