Chic

Chic (pronounced sheek)

(1) Attractive and fashionable; style and elegance, especially in dress (particularly when applied to women).

(2) Modishness, a casual and understated style, as in dress or décor, that expresses a specified trendy lifestyle or activity.

(3) As a noun, when used with an attributive noun or adjectival modifier, a descriptor for just about any defined style (shabby chic, boho chic etc).

1856: Adopted in English with the general sense of “style in fine art, artistic skill, faculty of producing excellence rapidly and easily”, from the French chic (stylishness; elegant (the original sixteenth century meaning was "subtlety")), of unknown origin but probably from the German Schick (elegant appearance; tasteful presentation) & Geschick (tact, skill, aptness), from Middle Low German schikken (arrange appropriately), from the Middle High German schicken (to outfit oneself, fit in, arrange appropriately), causative of the Middle High German geschehen & geschēn (to happen, rush), from the Old High German giskehan (to happen), from the Proto-West Germanic skehan, from the Proto-Germanic skehaną (to run, move quickly), from the primitive Indo-European skek- (to run, jump, spring).  The Germanic forms were akin to the Dutch schielijk (hasty) & schikken (to arrange) and the Old English scēon (to happen).  The alternative etymology is a link to the French chicane, from chicanerie (trickery) which in the 1610s English picked up as chicanery (legal quibbling, sophistry, mean or petty tricks).

The meaning "Parisian elegance and stylishness combined with originality" emerged in English by 1882, used to convey the sense of a style which was tied specifically to the most identifiably elegant street wear of the ladies of Paris, the influencers of the day noting chic was "an untranslatable word, denoting an indispensable quality"; something of the je ne sais quoi then.  The use as an adjective to describe the appearance of individuals dates from 1879 in English but interestingly, the Oxford English Dictionary (OED) pointed out the use of chic was nowhere near as frequent among French speakers in France although Gustave Flaubert (1821-1880) in Madame Bovary (1857) used chicard (one who is chic), the then current Parisian slang for "classy" before waspishly adding that it was “bourgeoisie”, one indication of why it's as rewarding (and less time-consuming) to read Flaubert as it is Proust (Marcel Proust (1871–1922; author of the multi-volume À la recherche du temps perdu (In Search of Lost Time (1913-1927))).

Felicia Montealegre Bernstein (1922-1978, left), her husband the composer & conductor Leonard Bernstein (1918-1990, seated) and Black Panther Field Marshal DC (Donald Lee Cox, 1936–2011) in Bernstein’s apartment, Park Avenue, New York, January 1970.  This photograph appeared in the New York magazine article in which Tom Wolfe (1930-2018) introduced the term “radical chic”.

The phrase “radical chic” was coined in 1970 by Tom Wolfe, a writer associated with the so-called “New Journalism” (a movement that incorporated techniques and devices from various strains of literature; it was (and remains) influential but has always attracted criticism).  Wolfe’s inspiration was a benefit event given by Leonard Bernstein for the Black Panther Party (1966-1982 and the best-known of the “black power” organizations which emerged during the civil rights era; it was interesting in that as well as being concerned with the civil rights of African-Americans, it was very much in the Marxist–Leninist tradition of the US far-left but also contained a distinctive feminist element).  The term caught on and was used to describe what would later come to be called “virtue-signalling”: the rich adopting the symbols of radical political causes while maintaining a distance from the people and the conditions they purported to support.  Examples live on in upper middle-class suburbs in which BLM (black lives matter) signs might be displayed although no black families live anywhere close.  Wolfe likened radical chic to a trendy romanticizing of “primitive souls” (such as Native Americans (then called American Indians) or Chicano grapeworkers) and compared it to the nineteenth century French phenomenon denoted by the phrase nostalgie de la boue, (literally hankering after mud), coined in 1855 by the dramatist Émile Augier (1820-1899).  What Augier described was prosperous people who were somehow unhappy and, feeling “alienated” from a “natural existence”, sought to “rediscover their essence” although this was usually “temporarily experiential”, few apparently inclined to exchange financial stability for the struggles of the working class.  Wolfe’s experience at Bernstein’s Park Avenue party in 1970 was a case study Augier would have understood: “It was at this party that a Black Panther field marshal rose up beside the north piano—there was also a south piano—in Leonard Bernstein’s living room and outlined the Panthers’ ten-point program to a roomful of socialites and celebrities, who, giddy with nostalgie de la boue, entertained a vision of the future in which, after the revolution, there would no longer be any such thing as a two-story, thirteen-room apartment on Park Avenue, with twin grand pianos in the living room, for one family.”

One adjectival variation was chi-chi (extremely chic, sophisticated) which by 1908 was recorded also as a noun meaning “pretentious fussiness", from the French chichi (airs, fuss).  Etymologists think this, like frou-frou (showy or frilly ornamentation but in its original sense "the rustling of a woman's skirt as it swishes around the legs"), likely imitative.  Chic is either used invariably, in which case the spelling of the plural is chic, or has the plural chics for both the masculine and the feminine forms.  While the spelling chic is correct for the uninflected adjective, all inflected forms are nonstandard (to be correct, inflected forms must be derived from the preferred spelling schick).  The accepted homophones are sheik & sheikh, the pronunciation “chik” is non-standard except when used facetiously.

Lindsay Lohan in zettai ryouiki mode, Jingle Ball, New York City, 2013.

Chic fills a most narrowly specific niche and is thus without no exact synonym.  Words like exclusive, mod, modern, current, sharp, smart, dap, dapper, dashing, faddish, modish, natty, with it, elegant, stylish, dapper, fashionable, natty, trendy, voguish, fancy, posh or swank tend in the direction and in many cases run at least in parallel but none quite capture the sense of chic.  Nor are the likely antonyms (inelegant, unfashionable or unstylish helpful; there is unchic but is so rare as to be probably obscure and it’s unnecessary: someone or something is either chic or not.  Chic is a verb & noun, chicly an adverb, chicness a noun and chicer & chicest are adjectives.  The noun chic is very often used with an attributive noun or adjective modifier, indicating the kind of style, such as boho-chic, heroin-chic, shabby-chic, eco-chic, geek-chic, radical-chic, porno-chic, communist-chic, terrorist-chic, Ayatollah-chic, scruffy-chic, super-chic, uber-chic, goth-chic, ultra-chic, industrial-chic etc.  There were also forms designed deliberately to insult such as chav-chic (also in the form council house-chic), gypsy-chic & hillbilly-chic.  Chiconomics was a clever coining which deconstructed the ways of looking chic on a budget and très chic (very stylish) was a way to emphasize the French connection.

Heroin chic

Anjelica Huston (b 1951) photographed by Bob Richardson (1928-2005), 1971.

Heroin chic, an aesthetic characterized by a painfully thin (preferably tall) build, pale skin, dark circles under the eyes, disheveled hair and a vacuous, haunted expression, was first noted in the late 1980s before the following decade becoming prominent in the modeling industry, an allusion not only to (a not actually typical) the look of an addict but also the alleged popularity of the drug in the business.  The motif however wasn’t new, examples existing from the early twentieth century and Bob Richardson photographed Anjelica Huston very much in the mode as early as 1971.  For those who wish to perfect the look, on the internet there are tutorials detailing how to apply makeup in the appropriate way although, to avoid the thought police, the word "heroin" tends not to appear in the tags or titles; it's just not TikToker-friendly. 

When first coined, heroin chic was intended as a criticism but, in the democratic way English works, it was quickly embraced by popular culture and soon, even in the early days of the internet and long before even embryonic social media platforms, guides were soon circulating, detailing how to achieve the look which, proved so popular they were reprinted in mainstream magazines.  Had it been just a fashionable look it might not have attracted the disapprobation but, for all sorts of reasons (in part related to the symbiotic economics of drug production, distribution and enforcement regimes), the look happened at a time when heroin use in the West spiked, along with a sudden increase in overdoses and drug-related deaths.

Echoes of an earlier chic:  Models at the BCBGMAXAZIRA show, New York Fashion Week, 2012.  BCBGMAXAZIRA (bon chic, bon genre max azira) was created as a Max Azira sub-brand.  Bon chic, bon genre (literally "good style, good attitude") in this context translates as something like the philosophical statement  “dress stylishly and you'll feel self-assured and project confidence".  This slender pair may be happier than they appear.

Itself a reaction to the more voluptuous models in the 1980s, heroin chic departed the catwalks rather abruptly, 1997 noted as the end-point, induced by what was a classic moral panic, ostensibly in reaction to a general concern about heroin use and overdoses but really triggered by the drug-related deaths of a number of white pop-culture celebrities.  Although seemingly oblivious to the the death-rate among ethnic minorities and the poor, the toll of the high-profile caught the attention of the White House staff and in May 1997, Bill Clinton (b 1946; US president 1993-2001) became involved, his speech on the subject a carefully choreographed interruption to a prayer breakfast (readers should pause to imagine what goes through Bill Clinton's mind when he's at prayer) in which he condemned heroin chic, saying “You do not need to glamorize addiction to sell clothes, the glorification of heroin is not creative, it’s destructive. It’s not beautiful; it’s ugly. And this is not about art; it’s about life and death. And glorifying death is not good for any society.”

The allure: controversial but undeniable.

Still, the thought police can only suppress but not kill an idea.  Given the political pressure, the industry remains too timid to reprise the look on covers or cat-walks but there remains a counter-culture which finds irresistibly alluring the sight of a slender models walking as if in a drug-induced stupor and although it never entirely went away, impressionistically, it does appear heroin-chic is enjoying, on-line and on the street, a post-pandemic renaissance.  The pro-ana community, always supportive of forks of fashion which build on their framework, will sometimes include style-guides but does caution it’s an aesthetic which works only on the thin (you need not be statuesque; any height can work but not any weight).  So, the first goal is to be thin and pro-ana is there to help with any number of guides available and all work but only if rigidly they’re followed.  Techniques can vary but an indicative approach to the mechanics of the heroin-chic look is:

(1) Get thin.  This is the essential pre-condition.

(2) Begin the process formerly when able successfully to shop in the (US) size zero to one section.  Clothes need to be loose and baggy (if they’re not, return to step (1)).

(3) Never buy anything clingy or with a bare back.  Structurally, the core elements you’re trying to achieve are emaciation and androgyny.

(4) Never buy anything with giant polka dots or made with fabrics of bright colors.  It sounds an unimportant point but is essential; heroin-chic simply doesn’t work with vibrant colors or certain designs.  The preferred colors are black, white, grey, the darker purples and navy blue.

(5) Buy layered items or those made with fluffy fabrics.

(6) Avoid vertical lines unless the stripes are really wide and the color contrasts distinct.

(7) Wear boots wherever possible.

(8) Prime the eyelids, then use a medium to dark brown eye shadow, packing it on to the eyelids.  Unlike the conventional approach to eye-styling, using the fingers is best because it creates an inherently messy finish and the result will inevitably be asymmetric which is good.  When content, add some eye shadow under the eyes and again, strive to achieve coverage but not neatness.

(9) Wait a few minutes (which isn’t a necessity with all eye shadows but there are variations even within the ranges of the one manufacturer.  When ready, run jet-black eye shadow along the top and bottom lash-lines.  This is best done with a small eye shadow brush and, once applied, smudge as desired using the fingers.  Experienced users claim Nyx Cosmetics eyebrow cake is the best product available and for touch-ups or quick corrections, recommend Urban Decay’s 24/7 pencils.

(10) The look is convincing only with clumpy eyelashes.  Take a mascara and use the tip to stick the lashes together, forming something which looks vaguely what you imagine spider legs so treated might resemble.  What you’re after is a variation of what eyelash stylists call “the spiky” except instead of being neatly separated, the lashes are in irregular clumps.

(11) The rest of the make-up should tend to the neutral.  The aim remember is pale skin (avoid exposure to sunlight) so use just a BB cream rather than foundation, accentuated only with just a bronzer to emphasize the shape of the cheekbones.  Illamasqua’s cream pigment is highly regarded.

(12) Perhaps counter-intuitively, the hair needs to be washed and conditioned according to the normal routine (heroin-chic is a curated look, not a consequence of neglect).  The idea is to achieve a stringy, un-kept look but, again counter-intuitively, that can really be constructed only if the hair is clean and well kept and with most hair-types, it’s not difficult using nothing more exotic than inexpensive product such as spray, wax or fudge.  In most cases the styling technique is a variation of what hair-dressers call the JBF but because hair types vary, you may need to experiment.  However it’s done, heroin-chic works best with straight hair so, if you’re after the optimal look, straighten first.

(13) There’s no consensus about which color should be used on the lips or even if it should be glossy or matt.  However, unlike the eyes, lipstick should be applied with precision; it’s just a convention of use.

(14) Juxtaposition.  As a look, heroin-chic works only if, at a second glance, it's apparent everything is expensive (think of it as a sub-set of shabby chic); it's not something done with cheap clothing and needs a pair of diamond studs and a good watch to complete the effect but jewelry should be chosen with some restraint, too much and it detracts from what is a very specific construction and silver will always work better than gold.

Zettai ryouiki

Zettai ryouiki (pronounced Zah-thai-rye-ouk-i)

(1) In an anime game (dating from 1995), an asset obtainable which playing which afforded the player something like the “invulnerability” or “unlimited damage” concepts familiar in gaming.

(2) As pop culture slang in women’s fashion (dating from 2014), the area of visible bare skin above the socks (classically the above-the-knee variety) but below the hemline of a mini-skirt, shorts or top.

1995: From the Japanese 絶対領域 (zettai ryōiki) (literally “absolute territory” and used variously in anime gaming (and the surrounding cultural milieu) and pop-culture fashion.  The form of Romanization most common in the West is zettai ryouiki, the alternative spelling zettai ryōiki (ぜったいりょういき).  Zettai ryouiki is a noun.

A often heard phrase in English ie “the (French / Germans / Jews / Koreans etc) have a word for everything”.  It’s not literally true and given the huge size of the English vocabulary it’s probably more true of English than any other.  Nobody is quite sure just how many words there are in English and given the frequency with which words are created and fall from use, there can only ever be estimates.  The Oxford English Dictionary (OED) says there are between 170-200,000 words currently in use but that estimate doesn’t include the most specialized technical and scientific terms or words from regional dialects and other specialized fields.  English of course steals (the polite term among lexicographers is “borrowed”) much from other tongues and were all these and the technical terms and their variants to be included in the count, some have suggested the total might approach a million.  What “the x have a word for everything” implies is a sense of surprise that anyone has a word for a thing or concept which seems variously funny, bizarre or unnecessary.

Sock heights in Japan can all be used with the zettai ryouiki look although the classists insist the genre is restricted to those in over-knee & thigh-high socks.

Zettai ryouiki in the anime tradition.

The term zettai ryouiki began in anime gaming in 1995 with the sense “holy space into which no other can intrude”, much along the same lines as “invulnerability” or “unlimited damage” in other games.  It was obvious transferrable beyond gaming sub-culture and among Japanese youth, entered slang in the context of “one’s own personal space” which others shouldn’t transgress.  Around 2013, the phrase was appropriated to describe the area of visible bare skin above the socks (classically above-the-knee socks) but below the hemline of a miniskirt, shorts or top.  It isn’t certain but the use seems to have been adopted after an advertising agency organized a campaign involving young women, for various commercial purposes, applying temporary tattoos high on their thighs, suggesting they pair the look with dark socks or stockings, the top of the socks and the hem of their mini skirts framing the message.  As a visual device, the intent was to focus on the flesh (and thus the logo) and this the fashionistas replicated although they wanted eyeballs only on their skin.  Within months, the shop Zettai Ryōiki opened in Akihabara, Tokyo, dedicated to long socks and tights.

Zettai ryōiki: Lindsay Lohan exploring the possibilities.  

The original use of zettai ryōiki described only the pairing of a miniskirt with over-knee or thigh-high socks which meant the visible skin area, though not dimensionally specific, existed within narrow parameters.  Conceptually however, the idea eventually encompassed all styles which featured an expanse of skin between the top of the sock and the hem of whatever was worn above although the purists continue to decry the use of shorter socks.  Helpfully, the most uncompromising of the sub-culture provided a mathematical formula in the form of a coefficient which was calculated using (1) the length of the miniskirt, (2) the visible skin and (3) the length of the sock which sits above the knee.  Thus not height-dependent, known as the “golden ratio”, a tolerance of +/- 25% was allowed which permitted slight variations.

The achingly lovely Brigitte Bardot (1934-2025) liked the zettai ryouiki look although she achieved it usually with high leather boots rather than socks.  She appears here with 1968 Chevrolet Corvette (left), 1967 Lancia Flavia Convertible (centre) and circa 1968 Citroën 2CV.

The Corvette is fitted with the “Deluxe Wheelcovers” (Starburst Turbines) available between 1968-1973.  The 1968 units (P01) were unique in having feature lines pointing directly to the cap's centre whereas the ones (P02) subsequently used until the 1974 season had a distinct starburst in the centre cap and that's indicative of the difficulties which can present when attempting a restoration of a 1968 Corvette, a model with an unusually large number of "one year only" components.  With the withdrawal of the P02 option for 1974, never again would wheelcovers be offered for the Corvette.  Unlike many film stars who were drawn to fast or luxurious cars, Bardot seemed usually to prefer smaller machines (although she did for some years own a Rolls-Royce).  Her 1954 Simca 9 Cabriolet was a gift from the manufacturer which sounds generous but it was not a regular model (it was either a prototype for a never-produced cabriolet or a one-off created especially for her (both accounts appearing) and thus couldn’t be sold; in exchange, for several years she undertook promotional activities on their behalf.  Based on the number of photographs which exist, she drove it happily for half a decade before replacing it with a 1959 Renault Floride cabriolet (sold in some markets as the Caravelle).  Her Simca’s 1221 cm³ (75 cubic inch) engine had produced a modest 50 horsepower (HP) but the Renault’s 845 cm³ (52 cubic inch) unit was rated at a mere 37 so clearly she put a premium on style over speed.

Brigitte Bardot posing with her 1954 Simca Type 9 Weekend Cabriolet at the family home, Louveciennes, France, 1955.

Simca described the Bardot cabriolet as the “Aronde Weekend”.  The Aronde was the car on which Simca’s post-war success was based and although the avian name (in French, literally “Swallow”) might hint at the songbird’s elegance in flight, the machine gained its reputation from robustness and practicality although the utilitarian styling was certainly modern and nicely balanced.  Founded in 1934, Simca (Societe Industrielle de Mecanique et Carrosserie Automobile) for more than a decade produced, under licence, slightly modified Fiats but in 1951 the Aronde debuted with demand immediately exceeding supply; continually revised, it remained in production until 1964.  In the way things were then done, the Aronde, as well as the basic four-door sedan, appeared in an array of body styles including two-door station wagons (the Australians producing a four-door variant), vans, pick-ups (utes), coupés (some of them the then fashionable hardtops) and a cabriolet. The cabriolet however didn’t appear until 1957 after the Aronde had been revised to make the structure sufficiently rigid to support the convertible coachwork without needing the extensive modifications which would have rendered series production unviable.  Brigitte Bardot’s cabriolet, based on the original “9 Aronde” was thus a genuine one-off, the aluminum and steel body hand made by the coachbuilder Facel (soon to become famous for the memorable Facel Vegas) and, appropriately, carries serial number 001.  It still exists and is on permanent display at the Lane Motor Museum in Nashville, Tennessee.  Lane specializes in European cars (with a commendable emphasis on the rare, strange and truly bizarre) and, like most of its exhibits, the Simca remains in sound working order; it is, in the jargon of the collector trade, “a survivor”, being wholly original and never having been restored.  After some six years in her hands, the car was passed (either sold or gifted, both tales appear) to her friend and neighbour, the French sculptor César Baldaccini (1921–1998).

Dauphine (César Baldaccini’s first Compression plate (Flat compression) piece in his Compression d'Automobile (Compressed cars) series) was literally a Renault Dauphine (1956-1967) “turned into art” using a hydraulic press; it was first shown in Milan in 1970.

The installation’s other pieces are Compressions cubiques (Cubed compressions), made from the salvaged wrecks of cars of various makes (Simca, Renault, Fiat etc) in what are presumably “designer colors”, the artist’s thing being depictions of shapes (including the human form, in whole or in part) in materials like scrap metal and plastics.  The symbolism was apparently something about the movement’s usual suspects (consumerism, alienation and the wastefulness of capitalist mass-production).  Baldaccini was leading light in the Nouveau Réalisme (“new wave of realism) movement (post-war Europe was a place of political and artistic “movements”) and he’s now best remembered for his many “compression” pieces, most of which were cars which had emerged from the crusher.  It had been the sight of a hydraulic crushing machine at a scrap yard which had inspired the artist and the pieces became his signature, rather as “wrapping” large structures was for Christo (Christo Javacheff (1935–2020)).  The pair encapsulated modern art: Christo wrapped a building and called it “art”, while Baldaccini took a crushed car, put it in a gallery and called it “art”.  Prior to some point in the twentieth century, such antics would have been implausible but after things moved from the critical relationship being between artist and audiences to that between artist and critics, just about anything became possible, thus all those post-war “movements”.

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

Appearing also in Formula One and sports car racing, between 1973-1996 Ferrari used a flat-12 in a number of road cars.  Pedants insist the engines, rather than being "boxers", were really 180^o V12s ("flattened V12" in the engineer's slang) because of a definitional distinction related to the attachment and movement of internal components; the external shape is essentially identical but the factory was in general a bit loose with the nomenclature on which purists like to insist.  In the UK, Coventry Climax were even more ambitious in developing a flat-16 for the new 3.0 litre (183 cubic inch) limit in Formula One for 1966: it used two 1.5 litre (92 cubic inch) "flattened V8s" joined together but the problems proved insurmountable and the remarkable powerplant never left the test bench.  The first of the road-going flat-12 Ferraris was the 365 GT4 BB (1973-1984), the “BB” long thought to stand for Berlinetta Boxer but Road & Track in 2018 noted RoadRat's publication of an interview with the BB’s designer, Leonardo Fioravanti (b 1938) who admitted it was named after Brigitte Bardot simply because the staff in Ferrari's design office were as besotted with the hauntingly beautiful Mademoiselle as engineers (not all of them men) everywhere.  She was at the time the world's most famous sex symbol and in the pre-TokTok era, that was quite something; "Berlinetta Boxer" was just the factory's cover story (later confirmed on the Ferrari website) and undeniably there's some similarity in the pleasing lines of the two.  Until then "Berlinetta Boxer" was the orthodoxy although there must have been enough suspicion about for someone to speculate the origin might be bialbero, (literally "twin shaft"), a clipping of bialbero a camme in testa (double overhead camshaft (DOHC)) which was from the slang of Italian mechanics.

Kawai Maid Cafe & Bar Akiba Zettai Ryoiki, 3-1-1 Sotokanda 1F Obayashi Bldg., Chiyoda 101-0021 Tokyo Prefecture (IRL (in real life) left; a depiction of them as they might appear when created as robots, right).

Japanese futurists predict that when robotics are sufficiently advanced, among the first humanoid bots in Tokyo's bars and cafés will be those in the style of the zettai ryoiki girls, adding they'll be dimensionally modeled on the basis of anime, not typical female human frames.  The artistic motif will thus be mannerism rather than realism so, the flesh & blood waitresses (left) will be "the inspiration" but their AI (artificial intelligence) controlled robotic replacements will be closer in appearance to those in the image to the right. 

Japanese schoolgirls, long the trend-setters of the nation's fashions, like to pair zettai ryouiki with solid fluffy leg warmers (fluffies).  So influential are they that this roaming pack, although they've picked up the aesthetic, are not real schoolgirls.  So, beware of imitations: Tokyo, April 2024.

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 forgiven, sometimes to the point they become part of the charm.  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 (informally sometimes 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 truly is an ultracrepidarian.