Splatter

Splatter (pronounced splat-er)

(1) To splash and scatter upon impact.

(2) An act or instance of splattering, typically a spray of mud, paint, blood or other liquids which results in many small blobs, some of which may coalesce.

(3) The quantity or the residue of something so splattered; An uneven shape (or mess) created by something dispersing on impact.

(4) In film as “splatter film” or “splatter movie”, a production characterized by gory imagery, often for its own sake (something of this the type often referred to as “a splatterfest”).  Splatterpunk is either a fork or synonym depending on interpretation.  In film, the splatter ecosystem is treated by those who take such things seriously as a sub-set of the horror genre.

(5) In modern art, as “splatter art” or “splatter painting”, a technique in which paint is (variously) dripped thrown, squirted, flicked etc onto the surface (although because of its history, “drip painting” to often treated as a separate stream (or drip)).

(6) In radio, spurious emissions resulting from an abrupt change in a transmitted signal.

1760s: The origin is uncertain but it’s presumed to be a portmanteau word, the construct being spla(sh) + (spa)tter.  Splash was probably a variant of the Middle English plasch & plasche, from the Old English plæsċ (pool, puddle) and thought likely an imitative form.  It was cognate with the Dutch plas (pool, watering hole) and related to the West Frisian plaskje (to splash, splatter), the Dutch plassen (to splash, splatter) and the German platschen (to splash).  The construct of spatter was probably the Middle Low German or Dutch spatt(en) (to spout, burst) +‎ -er (the frequentative suffix) and related to spit (saliva).  Splatter, splatterdash & splattering are nouns & verbs, splatterer & splatterfest are nouns, splattered is a verb and splattery is an adjective; the noun plural is splatters.

The verb in the sense of “splash; scatter about; make a noise as of splashing water” developed from the noun and was in use by at least 1784 but the earlier splatterdash (thought a variant of spatterdash) was noted a decade-odd earlier, a development of the noun spatterdash (leather covering for the lower leg to protect from mud) from the late seventeenth century.  Splatterdash meant “in a haphazard manner; work performed in a disorganized way” and was thought (either by intent or mistake) to have evolved from or been influenced by the earlier slapdash.  The early eighteenth century splatter-faced (having a broad, flat face) was probably a perversion of platter-faced, the modern version being “plate-faced”.  Splatterpunk was in 1986 apparently coined by award-winning US writer David J Schow (b 1955), noted for his many contributions to the horror industry and the splatter fork in particular. The first known reference to its use was during his celebrated appearance at the Twelfth World Fantasy Convention in Providence, Rhode Island.  Devoted fans of the splatter movie genre often self-identify as splatterpunks.

I Know Who Killed Me (2007) was for years was a fixture on "Worst Movie Ever" lists but more recently it has built a cult following (for reasons right and wrong) and the longevity in the interest it sustains has made it one of the genre's more enduring (and profitable) titles.  It was an example of a splatter movie "cross-over" in that the splatter aspect was ancillary to the crime-focused plot.

The evolution of the splatter movie becomes obvious from around the early 1960s when graphical depictions of violence and increasing volumes of (fake) blood began to appear.  The censorship in most parts of the world was for most of the twentieth century quite rigorous and unlike the attitude of the authorities towards nudity & sex where some jurisdictions tended to be more permissive, the attitude towards violence in films was more restrictive.  The French Grand Guignol (1897-1962) theatre had staged naturalistic dramas in which the gore was said to be “most realistic” but it was unusual and tolerated as an example of intellectual Parisian bohemianism and in early cinema, about the only graphic depictions seen of blood and gore were those in battlefield scenes or anything intended to illustrate the savagery of non-white races.  The trend towards gratuitous violence in film grew in the post-war years and directors in the 1960s pushed the boundaries, something accommodated by different versions of films being released in different markets, some more cut than others.  Such was the flow of violent cinema that the authorities began banning distribution and it wasn’t until the 1990s the practice became uncommon in the West, the classification system restricting to adults those thought most disturbing thought sufficient.  If there’s a convenient watershed in the business, it might be The Texas Chain Saw Massacre (1974) which lived up to its name; after that, all splatter movies can be considered a variation on the theme.

Freier Stress (Stress Free), Oil on linen by Albert Oehlen (b 1954).

Some regards splatter art as something distinct from drip painting (or action painting) while many claim not to be able to tell the difference although because drip painting has an establish place in modern art (one quite respectable according to many including those who pay millions for works by some of the most famous artists), it’s usually treated as something distinct.  As can be imagined, “splatter” is something within the rubric of abstract; throwing paint at a surface, sometimes from a distance of several feet rather than using a brush or even some form of spray, is going to results in something which, even if recognizably something, is at least at the margins going to be chaotic.

Lepanto, Panel 6, oil on canvas by Cy Twombly (1928-2011)

When drip painting burst (splattered?) upon the art world in the early post war years it was a novelty and at least since the late nineteenth century there had among the Western avant-garde been a thirst for the new and the shocking.  At the time first referred to as a form of abstract expressionism, what the early works did manage to convey was the feeling of something spontaneous, the relationship between what appears on the canvas and the physicality of the technique.  There had long been painters working in oil able to represent the gestures of their brush-strokes, usually with a graduated thickness in the layers on the surface but flinging the stuff around the room obviously brought a new violence to art.  Experimentation (and market differentiation) soon following and apart from the drippers and flingers, there were soon flickers, injectors (the use of syringes presumably thought a bit edgy), squeezers (wringing the paint from a soaked cloth), bursters (paint-filled balloons either thrown at the surface or popped from above) and even the odd spitter (paint ejected from the mouth).

Jackson Pollock (1912–1956) at work, dripping.  To the untrained eye, it's really not possible to work out where the dripping ends and the splatter begins or if it matters or if a distinction between cause and effect is helpful.  The most famous of the drip painters and one of art's genuine celebrities, Peggy Guggenheim (1898-1979) claimed he was “...the greatest painter since Picasso.”

Number 17A (1948), oil on fiberboard by Jackson Pollock.  In 2015 it sold for US$200 million which made it then the world's fifth most expensive painting.  An early work, it's thought one of the purest examples of drip painting and as soon as it appeared in the August 1949 edition of Life magazine, Jackson Pollock became famous.   

One thing about splatter art which simultaneously is (for practitioners) an attraction and (for detractors) a damnation is that the conventional skills traditionally needed by painters are not only not required but are simply irrelevant.  One of the most common complaints of the form by an unimpressed public was usually something like “That’s not art, anyone could do that.”  In terms of the techniques that’s certainly true in that anyone can drip, fling, flick, inject, squeeze or burst (most might draw the line at the spit) but the matter for judgment remains what was produced, not how it was done.  It’s the critics who rule on these things and those specializing in splatter (and related techniques) claim the ability to tell the good form the bad and the masterpiece for everything else.  Of course the language used between such critics is something like that of a sect in that while the words might be familiar, the meanings conveyed and the knowledge known secrets concealed from all but the chosen few and their views can be the difference between a piece being worthless or selling at auction for a sex figure sum.  We really have to take their word for it.

Times Square (2022), oil on canvas being painted by Paul Kenton (b 1968).

Paul Kenton describes himself as a “cityscape artist” and combines variations of splatter techniques with some more traditional forms of “editing” to produce works which are closer to the more traditional forms of abstract expressionism than the drip genre defined by Pollock.

Mad

Mad (pronounced mad)

(1) Mentally disturbed; deranged; insane; demented.

(2) Enraged; greatly provoked or irritated; angry.

(3) As madman or (metaphorically) mad dog, a person abnormally furious; ferocious (and can be applied literally to animals (mad bull etc), especially dogs afflicted with rabies (a rabid dog).

(4) Extremely foolish or unwise; imprudent; irrational.

(5) Wildly excited or confused; frantic (often as “in mad haste”).

(6) Overcome by desire, eagerness, enthusiasm etc; excessively or uncontrollably fond of (usually) someone; infatuated; (often as “madly in love”).

(7) Wildly lively and merry; enjoyably hilarious.

(8) Of extremes in climatic conditions (of wind, storms, etc), furious in violence.

(9) An angry or ill-tempered period, mood, or spell.

(10) As MAD, the acronym for mutually assured destruction: a theory of nuclear warfare deterrence whereby each side in a conflict has the capacity to destroy the other in retaliation for a nuclear attack.

(11) The acronym for the Militärischer Abschirmdienst, a counterintelligence agency of the German military (essentially the successor to the old Abwehr (1920-1944)).

(12) The acronym, in admiralty administration, for the Maritime anomaly detection in Global Maritime Situational Awareness, for avoiding maritime collisions

(13) The acronym, in astronomy, for the Magnetic anomaly detector which detects variations in Earth's magnetic field.

(14) The acronym, in high-energy physics, for the Methodical Accelerator Design, a CERN scripting language used in particle acceleration.

Pre 900: From the Middle English mad (adjective) & madden (an intransitive verb, derived from the adjective), from the Old English gemǣd, past participle of gemǣdan (to make mad), akin to gemād (troubled in mind; demented, insane, foolish).  It was cognate with the Old Saxon gemēd, the Old Norse meitha (to hurt, damage) and the Old High German gimeit (foolish, silly, crazy).  In the Old English, gemǣded was the past participle of gemǣdan (to render insane).  As an adjective, the comparative is madder and the superlative maddest but the strangest adjectival form is probably the very English maddish, suggesting some state between displeased and actually mad.  The ultimate root of the Old English forms was the Germanic adjective gamaidaz (changed for the worse, abnormal), the element “maid” from the primitive Indo-European moi-, a variant of the root mei- & moi- (to change, exchange, go, move), extended with a dental suffix (-d in Germanic; -t elsewhere).  The same suffixed variant moit- appears in the Latin mūtāre (to change, exchange, give and receive in exchange), familiar in COVID-19-era English as mutate.  The Sicilian Greek (a fork by virtue of geography always most likely to be influenced by Latin) has the noun moîtos (thanks, favor, reward), presumably a borrowing from the Old Latin moitus.  Mad is an adjective, verb & adverb; madder & maddeningness are nouns, adjectives & verbs, maddest, maddish & maddening are adjectives, madly & maddeningly are adverbs and madden & maddens are verbs; the noun use of mad is non-standard.

The synonyms for mad exist in its four senses (1) lunatic, maniacal, psychotic, crazed, crazy, nuts, kooky, nutty, insane, (2) furious, exasperated, livid, raging, wrathful, irate, (3) ill-advised; unsafe, dangerous, perilous & (4) absurd, fantastic, delirious, wondrous.  There is much overlap in the synonyms, insane historically meant “not sane, mentally unstable” but is now popular with the Instagram generation as a general expression of approval and "bonkers", while still meaning “not sane, mentally unstable” also (except in the US) has come to be used in an entirely non-pejorative way to suggest something astonishing in the sense of something or someone verging on the irrational but in some way inspiring; absurd works in a similar way.

Bonkers: 2023 Dodge Challenger SRT Demon 170.

Because it makes Greta Thunberg (b 2003) mad, the likes of the SRT Demon 170 won’t be seen again but an off-the-shelf machine which can generate 1,025 horsepower makes a fine swansong.  To make Ms Thunberg madder still, it’s noted the induction system is capable of providing more fuel flow per minute than the average US showerhead and in a nice touch the purchaser will receive a commemorative Demon 170 decanter set.  Thousand horsepower cars for the street have traditionally been the preserve of madmen but mad women should be encouraged to give one a try.   

The word appears often in idiomatic use including “mad as a March hare” which alluded to hares becoming especially active in spring their mating season; “mad as a meat axe”, an especially evocative piece of Australian slang which is self-explanatory to anyone who has seen an un-skilled operator use a meataxe on a carcass and “barking mad”, the origin of which is mysterious.  The best story links it with the existence of a medieval lunatic asylum in the grounds of the royal monastery Barking Abbey (located in what is now the London borough of Barking and Dagenham) but there’s no evidence of use before the early twentieth century and most etymologists have concluded there’s a link with the idea “mad dogs” incessantly bark.  The London slang use suggesting someone is “three stops past Barking” is thought to have be an opportunistic adoption referencing the “barking” and in the vein of something like “a picnic short of a sandwich” which suggests some degree of mental incapacity.  There was even “shorthand slang” based on this idea: were one to be called “daggers”, it meant one was “three stops past Barking”, Dagenham being three stations beyond Barking on the London Underground.

The original meaning of mad was “insane, demented, disturbed of mind”, a sense inherited with the word from the Germanic forms.  The progression in meaning seems to have begun circa 1300 when the senses (1) “mad dog” (dog afflicted with rabies (rabid)), (2) “foolish or unwise” and (3), “overcome by desire or eagerness” emerged; the meaning “enraged, angry” not recorded until circa 1400.  This sense of mad quickly became the usual colloquial term in the United States whereas “angry” long persisted as the popular form elsewhere in the English-speaking world although the increasing US cultural influence noted since the mid-twentieth century makes these distinctions probably less noticeable.  The sense “wildly lively, merry” is said to be an innovation of African-American English associated with jazz and dating from the 1940s.  For those learning English, “mad” must seem a strange word given the social difficulties engendered if one accidently mixes up being “mad about you” with “mad at you”.  So students should be given practical examples such as: "I am mad about him" (I would like to enjoy intimacy with him); "I am mad at him" (I am angry with him or I would like to kill him); "He is mad" (he appears mentally unstable).

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

Another thing for them to learn was that wad was one of those words listed as a class-identifier by Professor Alan Ross (1907-1980), Professor of Linguistics at the University of Birmingham who in 1954 coined "U" (upper-class) and "non-U" (non-Upper-Class) to describe the differences social class makes in their use of English.  While his article included differences in pronunciation and writing styles, it was his list of variations in vocabulary which attracted most interest.  One difference he noted was the upper-class call the obviously unstable “mad” whereas the lower classes tend to label them “mental”.  Professor Ross published his illustrative glossary "U" and "non-U", differentiating the speech patterns in English social classes, in a Finnish academic journal and used extracts from Nancy Mitford’s (1904–1973 and the oldest of the Mitford sisters, all but one of whom society's more conventional types were apt to label "mad") 1945 novel The Pursuit of Love to provide examples of the patterns of speech of the upper class.  This pleased Nancy Mitford who interpolated the professor’s work into an article about the English gentry she was writing for Stephen Spender's (1909-1995) literary magazine Encounter (1953-1990).  Although not best-pleased that her discussion of the Ross thesis was the only part of her piece to attract attention, more amusing was the subsequent re-publication in 1956 in her Noblesse Oblige: an Enquiry into the Identifiable Characteristics of the English Aristocracy which, augmented with contributions from John Betjeman (1906–1984) and Evelyn Waugh (1903–1966), meant that for decades she was the acknowledged authority on upper-class speech, manners and ways.  Her class-conscious readers had taken it all more seriously than she had intended.

Until probably sometime in the nineteenth century, for all but a few specialists, the condition of madness was relatively simple: people were mad or sane and while it was noted one could become the other, once labeled as mad one was by most, probably always thought mad and the punchy succinctness of the word could produce a memorable phrase such as the one used by Lady Caroline Lamb (1785–1828) to describe her lover, Lord Byron (George Gordon Byron 1788–1824): "Mad, bad, and dangerous to know".  The only widely observed nuances were behavioral and that was because madness was an observational diagnosis; there were those who were mad, slightly mad, quite mad and barking mad, hardly clinically exact descriptors but it’s doubtful many misunderstood what was being conveyed.  Modernity’s advances in neurology and pharmacology allowed the creation of psychiatry which began to gain a grudging acknowledged respectability in the medical profession around the turn of the century and it been a growth industry since.  The American Psychiatric Association’s (APA) Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM), when first published (DSM-I, 1952) was a slim volume of 130 pages which listed 106 mental disorders but by the time the fifth edition (DSM-5, 2013) was released it had grown to 947 pages although interestingly, the number of specific diagnoses was reduced from 172 in DSM-IV (1987) to 157, something of an achievement given 15 new mental illnesses were added.  It is though bit of a definitional minefield and there are those who suggest that once deconstructed, there are really over 300 identifiable conditions, some of the official 157 categories better thought of as groups or clusters.  However the count is done, nobody is expecting DSM-6 to contain fewer pages, whatever method is used to define the conditions so it seems there must been more to madness than once convenient mad-sane binary.

How much the proliferation of diagnosed madness is mission-creep and how much better understanding is a debate, mostly outside the profession.  Some of it is certainly an attempt to secure market-share for the psychiatrists, some “conditions” once thought normal as part of the spectrum of the human condition now listed as a disorder to be referred for treatment and in some cases this is doubtlessly a good thing although quite how reassuring a diagnosis of “generalized anxiety disorder” (GAD) is for a patient may be questionable.  GAD may also be overkill, the psychoanalyst having long supplanted the priest for those who can afford the hourly-rate, market share seems well secured.

Some of Louis Wain's drawings of cats, all reputed to date from his time of incarceration in a mental hospital during the 1930s.

The English artist Louis Wain (1860–1939) was a noted painter of cats, sometimes naturalistic, sometimes stylized and often anthropomorphic.  In his sixties he was diagnosed with schizophrenia and confined to a series of mental institutions, settling eventually in Napsbury Hospital, north of London.  By the standards of the time it was a convivial place with a park and a colony of cats and while his condition worsened, the frequency of his psychotic episodes decreased but drawings of cats he continued to produce became increasingly abstract, intricate and bizarre.  After 1930, he would never again leave Napsbury and there, in 1939, he died aged 78.

For a long time his paintings of cats have been used to illustrate an artist's descent into madness, a theme popular in those circles in which the notion of the "disturbed genius" is a cult.  However, the thesis has been questioned, notably on the technical ground of chronology; being undated, it can't be guaranteed the sequence of drawings as they're usually assembled are an accurate lineal progression of his work and doubt has been case even on the diagnosis of schizophrenia, some speculating the then not well understood medication used in the era to treat the condition may have contributed to his symptoms.

Guignol

Guignol (pronounced guin-yholl)

(1) A puppet, especially a hand puppet.

(2) A puppet show.

(3) As Grand-Guignol, a theatrical production featuring melodramatic tension, horror, and shock.

(4) A French insult meaning one is an “oaf” or “buffoon”.

Early 1800s: A borrowing from Modern French, the origin (in this context) reputedly the name of a silk weaver of Lyon which was the central character of the puppet theatre which French puppeteer Laurent Mourguet installed there for the earliest performance (in 1795) of French puppet shows.  Because of the origin, the word is sometimes capitalized and some historians suggest there may be a link with guigner (to wink), nictation one of the puppet’s signature gestures.  Guignol is a noun, the noun plural is guignols.

Guignol’s creation was serendipitous and a matter of economic necessity.  The silk weaver Laurent Mourguet (1769–1844) from Lyon had been forced from his trade by the economic convulsions in the wake of the French Revolution (1789) and by 1797, after for some time scratching-out a living as an itinerant peddler, he took to the business of teeth pulling (the origins of dentistry), one of the attractions being one required little equipment other than a chair and several pairs of pliers.  It certainly required no qualifications but unlike today’s dentists, there were no fees and his income came from the sale of the potions and herbal preparations he sold a pain relievers, some apparently at least temporarily effective.  Seeking a marketing edge, as an advertising gimmick, he set up a puppet show in front of the chair on which he performed his gruesome procedures.

History doesn’t record how well regarded Monsieur Mourguet was for his dentistry but within a short time his puppetry had attracted such a following he gave up all things odontic and became a professional puppeteer, one who would these days be called a social realist because his performances focused on the cares and concerns of his working class audience, matters he knew well from his own humble background.  His following grew because of the topicality of his material which referenced the scandals and corruption then so often in the news.  In another modern touch (which would much appeal to later French deconstructionists), he created an ensemble cast of characters, the best known of which were the silk weaver Monsieur Guignol and his wife Madelon and while some things were constant (such as Guignol’s fondness for drink), there was fluidity about the roles the others would from time to time play and while they all were there to entertain, politics, poverty and the of the travails of the working class existence were always the underlying themes.  Despite that however, what characterized his work was the good humor and happy endings, the French use of “Guignol” as an insult meaning something like “oaf” or “buffoon” is something like the use of “muppet” in much of the English-speaking world; the muppet puppets weren’t stupid, they just looked as if they were.

The later performance genre was Le Théâtre du Grand-Guignol (The Theatre of the Great Puppet) and usually referred to as Grand-Guignol (pronounced gron guin-yholl).  Grand-Guignol was a Parisian theatre which specialized in grotesque horror shows in which the puppets sometimes dripped blood, accounting for the phrase “grand-guignol” being used of any film, book or other production packed with blood and gore.  The theatre proper existed between 1897-1962 and featured a succession of naturalistic horror shows which relied for their appeal on the sort of spectacle then not available in any other form of public performance.  Sometimes there we happy endings and sometimes not and really it mattered little, the point being the death toll and the gruesomeness of the mean of dispatch and it was a comment more on the audience attracted than the storylines that most seemed to find Grand-Guignol entertaining rather than shocking as initially it was intended to be.  The modern version of all this gratuitous violence is the “splatter movie” though that doesn't mean Le Théâtre du Grand-Guignol can be blamed for I Know Who Killed Me (2007).

The blood soaked Grand-Guignol is notable for the graphic art its advertising spawned and these pieces influenced film studios around the world, their motifs still used today.

It was remarkable Grand-Guignol lasted as long as it did because the audience numbers had been in decline since the end of World War II (1939-1945) and it never came close to regaining the popularity the theatre enjoyed in the inter-war years.  Much has been made of the decline of interest being linked to the revelations of the horrors perpetrated during the holocaust, the argument being that whatever the puppets depicted (which once would have been thought unthinkable in modern, civilized Europe) could be as awful as the gas chambers and crematoria of the Third Reich’s death camps.  It was something in the vein of (the often misquoted) 1949 dictum of German philosopher Theodor Adorno (1903–1969): “To write poetry after Auschwitz is barbaric”.  However, it was during those years of declining interest that television reached critical mass and relaxations in censorship meant what was able to be shown in French cinemas could be more confronting than the sanitized stuff to which distributors were once restricted.  The competition for eyeballs had become fierce.

Not all puppets are so gruesome: Lindsay Lohan interviewed by Air New Zealand’s Rico the puppet for one of the airline’s infomercials, Los Angeles 2014.

Siren

Siren (pronounced sahy-ruhn)

(1) In classical mythology, one of several sea nymphs, sometimes depicted as part-woman, part-bird and sometimes as as sisters, who lured mariners to destruction by seductive singing.

(2) A woman who sings sweetly and charms.

(3) In slang, a seductively beautiful or charming woman, especially one who beguiles men; a seductress, temptress or vamp; a dangerous women who preys on the weaknesses of men.

(4) An acoustical instrument for producing musical tones, consisting essentially of a disk pierced with holes arranged equidistantly in a circle, rotated over a jet or stream of compressed air, steam, or the like, so that the stream is alternately interrupted and allowed to pass.

(5) An variation of this implement which makes a piercingly loud sound and used as a whistle, fog signal, or warning device; the sound made by such a device.

(6) In zoology, (1) any of several aquatic, eel-like salamanders of the family Sirenidae, having permanent external gills, small forelimbs, and no posterior limbs, (2) a member of Sirenia, an order of mammals or (3) any of various nymphalid butterflies of the genus Hestina.

(7) Anything seductive or tempting, especially dangerously or harmfully.

(8) In music, a musical instrument (one of the few aerophones in the percussion section of the symphony orchestra).

(9) An instrument for demonstrating the laws of beats and combination tones.

(10) In astronomy & astrophysics, an astrophysical event which can be used for calculating cosmic distances. 

1300-1350: From the Middle English siren & sereyn from the Old French sereine, (the Modern French sereine dating from the twelfth century), from the Late Latin sīrēna and the Classical, Latin Sīrēn & Sīrēna, from the Ancient Greek Σειρήν (Seirḗn).  The Seirēnes were the alluring sea nymphs of classical mythology and the figurative sense of "one who sings sweetly and charms" was first noted in the 1580s although the classical descriptions of them were mangled in medieval translations, resulting in some odd and fantastical notions of their appearance and they were often conflated with mermaids.  The Vulgate (the Biblia Vulgata, the fourth century translation of the Bible which, through the choices of words and senses made by the translator had a profound effect on Christianity and Christendom) also gifted to Middle English the use of the word to describe an imaginary species of flying serpents, based on glossary explanations of the Latin sirenes in Isaiah 13:22.    In the Greek the word was used also to mean "a deceitful woman" although etymologists note that may have been literally "binder, entangler", from seira (cord, rope).  In zoology, the mammalian sense appeared first in was first attested in French in Les entretiens d'Ariste et d'Eugène (Conversations between Ariste & Eugène) by the French Jesuit priest Dominique Bouhours (1628–1702) while the use to describe the aquatic salamander was introduced in 1766 by Swedish zoologist & physician Carl Linnaeus (1707–1778 and styled as Carl von Linné after 1761) for a genus of reptiles.

The use to describe the mechanical device which "makes a warning sound" was first recorded in 1879 when they were installed on steamboats and this may have been imitative of the similar French word.  In the course of the twentieth century, the things were adapted as audible warning devices for many purposes including air raids, emergency service vehicles and fire alarms.  In schools, workplaces and other geographically large sites, they were used to mark the start and finish of shifts, meal breaks etc.  As late as the 1940s, the spelling variation sireen also existed but it (like the Elizabethan adjectives sirenean, sirenian, sirenic, sirenical & sireny) is extinct although the writer & critic John Ruskin (1819–1900 and known for his fondness for nymphs), used sirenic so with that imprimatur, some modern aesthete might be tempted to revive the form. 

Odysseus and the Sirens

In Greek mythology, the Sirens were deadly creatures who used their lyrical and earthly charms to lure sailors to their death.  Attracted by their enchanting music and voices, the seduced seafarers would sail their ships too close to the rocky coast of the nymph's island and there be shipwrecked.  Not untypically for the myths of antiquity, the sirens are said to have had many homes.  The Romans said they lived on some small islands called Sirenum scopuli while later authors place them variously on the islands of Anthemoessa, on Cape Pelorum, on the islands of the Sirenuse, near Paestum, or in Capreae.  All were places with rocky coasts and tall cliffs.

Sirens and the Night (1865) by William Edward Frost (1810-1877).

It was Odysseus who most famously escaped the sirens.  Longing to hear their songs but having no wish to be shipwrecked, he had his sailors fill their ears with beeswax, rendering them deaf.  Odysseus then ordered them to tie him to the mast.  Sailing past, when he heard their lovely voices, he ordered his men to release him but they tightened the knots, not releasing him till the danger had passed.  Some writers claimed the Sirens were fated to die if a man heard their singing and escaped them and that as Odysseus sailed away they flung themselves into the water and drowned.  The idea of the sirens persists in idiomatic use:  The "siren sound" is used to refers to words or something which exerts a particular compelling attraction but a "siren call" can be used of something not directly audible such as the thoughts evoked by a painting or even a concept, populism, fascism & communism all described thus at times.

The Chrysler Air Raid Siren and the Firepower V8  

According to Guinness World Records, the loudest sirens ever were the 350-odd built by Chrysler for the US government in the early 1950s and installed around the country to warn of an impending nuclear attack by the Soviet Union.  The maximum volume the devices generated was recorded (at a distance of 100 feet (30.5 m)) as 138 decibels (dB), a level which meant a human would be deafened if within 200 feet (61 m) during their operation.  Guinness noted the compressor discharge throughput at peak volume was 74 m³ (2,610 cubic feet at 7 lb per square inch) of air per second and the physics of fluid dynamics (air a fluid in this context) was such that this would have caused a sheet of paper in the path spontaneously to ignite.  By comparison the now retired supersonic airline Concorde at take-off produced noise levels between 112-114 dB at a distance of 100 feet and even the after-burner equipped military jets (F-16, F-35 et al) haven’t been recorded as generating levels as high as 138 dB.

Although there were ebbs in the tensions, the “High Cold War” is regarded as the time between the early 1950s and mid 1960s, the public perception of which was dominated by the fear of nuclear war. The US government made many preparations for such an event, notably building vast underground facilities where essential personnel (members of the administration, the Congress and their families and servants) could live until it was safe to emerge into the post- apocalypse world).  The tax-payers who paid for these facilities were of course rather less protected but the government in 1952 did install warning sirens in cities; people might still be vaporized by comrade Stalin's (1878-1953; Soviet leader 1924-1953) H-Bombs but they would know it was coming so there was that.

The early version was co-developed by Chrysler and Bell Labs and named the Chrysler Bell Victory Siren which sounded optimistic but although the acoustic properties met the specification, the drawback was the devices were manually controlled and required someone physically to be there to start the thing and, being directional, rotate it so the sound would be broadcast 360^o.  The obvious flaw was that were there to be a nuclear attack in the area, the job-description was self-sacrificial, something comrade Stalin would doubtless have thought just the part of the cost of war with the unfortunate soul posthumously to be awarded the coveted Герой Советского Союза (Hero of the Soviet Union) decoration.  However, neither the White House or the Pentagon like the optics of that and revised specifications were issued.

Photograph by Rob Storms of Chrysler Air Raid Siren atop Rochester Fire Department Maintenance Building, Rochester, Monroe County, New York.

Chrysler responded with a more elaborate device which was automated and remotely administrated, the Chrysler Air Raid Siren introduced in 1952.  It was powered by the corporation’s new 331 cubic inch (5.4 litre) Hemi-head V8, rated at what was then a stellar 180 HP (134 kW), a three-stage compressor added to increase output.  Instead of demanding a potentially doomed operator, there was a control panel connected (with nothing more than the two-pair copper cables which became familiar as Cat3) to dedicated phone lines so it could be activated either by local civil defense authorities or the military.  The big V8 provided sufficient power to both increase the dB and the geographical coverage, the siren able to be heard over an area of some 15.8 square miles (41 km³), an impressive number given the electric sirens used today for tornado and tsunami warnings have an effective footprint of only some 3.9 square miles (10 km³).

Chrysler Air Raid Siren being delivered, 1953.

In 1952, there was no engine better suited to the task than Chrysler’s new “FirePower” V8.  Applying their wartime experience building a number of high-output, multi-cylinder engines (the most remarkable a V16 aero-engine rendered obsolete by jet technology before it could be used), the FirePower featured hemispherical combustion chambers and was the corporation’s first use of overhead-valves.  Both designs had been around for decades but in time, Chrysler would make a (trade-marked) fetish of “Hemi”, continuing cheerfully to use the name for a range of V8s introduced in 2003 even though they were no longer a true hemi-head, the design unable to be adapted to meet modern exhaust emission laws.  The so-called “third generation” Hemi remains available still although how long it will last will be a matter of the interplay of politics and demand.  Doubtless, it’s on Greta Thunberg’s (b 2003) hit-list and that she and the engine debuted in the same year will impress her not at all.

Chrysler FirePower 392 cubic inch V8 in 1957 Chrysler 300C Convertible.

The FirePower was first sold in 1950 in 331 cubic inch (5.4 litre) form, growing over the decade first to 354 (5.8) and then 392 (6.4) before being retired in 1959, the wedge-headed alternative with increased displacement a cheaper path to power.  Chrysler and Imperial shared the engines but remarkably, in an approach which today must shock accountants and efficiency experts, the companion divisions (De Soto & Dodge) produced nine different hemi-head V8s with capacities between 241 (4.0) and 345 (5.6) with relatively little commonality of components between them all.  The last of the FirePowers were noted also for being one of the first offered with electronic fuel injection which offered real advantages over the mechanical systems then available in a handful of models in Europe and the US but the technology was then too fragile to be reliable and most of the 16 sold (reputedly all but one) were recalled and retro-fitted with a pair of faithful four barrel carburettors.  In 1964, the hemi-head was revived for a racing engine and, to satisfy the regulatory body which had been unimpressed with the use of such a thing in a series for “stock” cars, it was made available to the public between 1966-1971, this time actually called “Hemi”.  In 426 cubic inch (7.0 litre) form, it was this iteration which built the reputation which Chrysler still exploits.

Some 350 Chrysler Air Raid Sirens were built, all by the Marine & Industrial Engine division based in Trenton, Michigan, some still in service as late as the 1970s.  During the era of détente, the last were retired, some sold to museums or collectors which some were just abandoned because, mounted atop tall buildings to maximize their acoustic coverage, the cost of removal far exceed their value as units or scrap.  Three fully functioning Chrysler Air Raid Sirens still exist, one in a remote part of Texas where it’s safe to stage the occasional demonstration of the sound.  During these displays, the clear zone (minimum safe distance) extends 320 feet (97.5 m) but even at this range, anyone standing directly in front of the projection horns would find the experience uncomfortable, prolonged exposure likely to damage one’s hearing.  Although directional, there’s much “sound soak” otherwise in the proximity in the device just operating the siren from the side control panel requires a minimum hearing protection of 30 dB.

Lindsay Lohan as a siren; it would seem almost a calling.

One collector attracted to them was Don Garlits (b 1932) who in the post-war years was among the most innovative and successful drivers and builders in the sport of drag-racing which became wildly popular and it was with Chrysler Hemis he build his reputation.  In 1997, a documentary crew from the UK visited Garlits and saw one of the old sirens sitting neglected in the storeroom where it’d sat for decades after having spent some twenty years in the salt-laden air atop a Florida high-rise.  Remarkably, after doing little more than connecting a battery and checking the oil and coolant, once a carburetor had been bolted on with a can of gasoline (petrol) rigged up, it started almost immediately.  What was most surprising was that it had never before run on gasoline because the sirens had always used propane.  As Garlits over the decades discovered a ¼ mile at a time, the FirePower was a tough old thing.

Chrysler Air Raid Siren at the Don Garlits Museum of Drag Racing, re-awakened after decades, 1997.

Mint

Mint (pronounced mint)

(1) Any aromatic herb of the genus genus Mentha (family Lamiaceae (labiates)), having opposite, aromatic leaves and spikes of small, typically mauve, whorled flowers.  The leaves of some species are used for seasoning and flavoring (peppermint, spearmint, horsemint, water mint. mint sauce etc).

(2) A soft or hard confection or candy flavored with spearmint or peppermint.

(3) A shade of green, classically a light hue with a cool, bluish undertone but many commercial products so-named are quite vivid.

(4) Something made or flavored with mint.

(5) Of or pertaining to the color mint.

(6) To make (coins, medals etc.) by stamping metal; to turn (metal) into coins.

(7) In crypto-currencies, to create a crypto token.

(8) A place where coins and special medals (and in some places paper currency) etc are, now always under government authority if the production of legal tender is involved.

(9) A place where something is produced or manufactured.

(10) In slang, to make, fabricate or invent (including weightless items such as words).

(11) In slang (as “a mint”, “made a mint” etc), a vast amount, especially of money.

(12) In slang, excellent; impressive (mostly northern England)

(13) In slang, attractive; beautiful; handsome (most of the English Speaking world except North America).

(14) In philately (of a stamp) and numismatics (of currency), being in its original, unused condition (use now extended to (1) any item in such condition and (2) an item which has been restored or renovated to a state where it can be described as “as new” (ie appearing to be newly made and never used, even if once dilapidated)).

(15) Intent; purpose; an attempt; try; effort (mostly northern England & Scotland).

(16) To take aim at with a firearm (rare and mostly northern England & Scotland).

(17) To hit or strike at someone or something (rare).

Pre 900: From the Middle English mynt & münet (money, coin), from the Old English mynet (coin, coinage, money), from the late Proto-West Germanic munit, from the Latin monēta (place for making coins, coined money) and named after the temple of Juno Monēta (named for Monēta,mother of the Muses), the mint where Roman money was coined.  A doublet of money and manat, the verb was from the noun; the Old English mynetian (to mint) was a parallel formation.  The use to describe “mean, intent, aim etc” was also pre 900 and was from the Middle English verb minten, munten & munte (to intend, plan, think of), from the Old English myntan & gemyntan (to mean, intend, purpose, determine, resolve), the noun a derivative of the verb, from the Proto-West Germanic muntijan (to think, consider), from the primitive Indo-European men- & mnā- (to think),  It was cognate with the Saterland Frisian mintsje & muntsje (to aim, target), the Dutch munten (to aim at, target), the German Low German münten (to aim at), the German münzen (to aim at), the Dutch monter (cheerful, gladsome, spry), the Gothic muns, (thought, opinion) and the Old English munan (to be mindful of, consider, intend).  The use in botany may have been earlier but certainly was in use by the tenth century.  It was from the Middle English mynte, from the eighth century Old English minte (the mint plant), from the Proto-West Germanic mintā (leaf of the mint) (source also of Old Saxon minta, the Middle Dutch mente, the Old High German minza and the German Minze), from the Latin mentha & menta of uncertain origin but probably from a lost Mediterranean language via either the Ancient Greek μίνθη (mínthē) & μίνθα (míntha) or directly.  It was akin to the Old Norse minta (mint) and the Old High German minza.  In Greek mythology, minthē was personified as a nymph transformed into an herb by Proserpine.

Lindsay Lohan with mint hair (digitally altered image).

The general sense of “a vast sum of money” was in use by the 1650s and the term “mint-mark” (mark placed upon a coin to indicate the mint where it was struck) was formalized in 1797.  The verb in the sense of “to stamp metal to make coins” dates from the 1540s and was developed from the noun; minting soon followed.  In the Old English, the agent noun was mynetere which became the twelfth century Middle English minter (one who stamps coins to create money; place where coins are stamped), from the Late Latin monetarius.  The adjective minty (full of or tasting of mint) was documented since 1867 (mintesque seems never to have been coined) while the related noun mintiness was first noted in the 1920s.  Mint is a noun, verb & adjective; minting is a noun & verb, minted is a verb & adjective and minty is an adjective, the noun plural is mints.

Minties: 54.3% sugar and inclined to extract fillings, they are income generators for dentists.

Introduced in Australia in 1922, the Mintie is a mint-flavored confectionery which is hard, white, chewy and prone while chewing to enter such a state of stickiness that it's not unusual for dental fillings to be dislodged.  Despite this, essentially unchanged, they've been popular in Australia and New Zealand for over a century, some half a billion are sold annually and they're available in many outlets around the world.  In some places they have a cult following and in London there's a shop which offers a text-messaging service to advise customers when the sticky treat is again in stock, the Mintie addicts apparently not only homesick colonials.  The company's It's moments like these you need Minites advertising campaign in the 1920s was responsible for a catch-phrase entering the local vernacular, the truncated “It's moments like these” still heard when something unfortunate has happened.

In September 2023, Rupert Murdoch (b 1931) announced he was standing down from executive roles within the News organization to become Chairman Emeritus.  It came as a surprise because many had assumed he’d intended to die “in the saddle” and after all, he is 92 so people needed just to be patient.  But he (sort of) retired instead and that triggered the inevitable speculation about hidden agendas and ulterior motives, the things which for decades have been attributed to Mr Murdoch’s every action.  It’ll be interesting to watch the dynamics this unleashes in the Murdoch family but it may be that now he’s again single, Mr Murdoch just wants more time for dating.  One almost immediate impact of his (at least symbolic) departure was a lapse in journalist standards within the corporation, a piece run on the news.com.au website including a mistake which once would never have got past a sub-editor.  The story was about a US$10,000 bill “minted” during the 1930s.

News.com.au, 26 September 2023.

In the US, dollar bills are not “minted”, they are “printed”, the US Bureau of Engraving and Printing responsible for the production of paper currency while coins are produced by the United States Mint.  The $10,000 bill in question was rated as “mint condition” by the authoritative Paper Money Guarantee (PMG), a third-party operation which assesses and certifies paper money and sold for US$480,000 at the Long Beach Expo currency auction in Dallas, Texas, a record for the type.  The high-value US bills are now quite a novelty, the Treasury in 1969 purging from the system all “large value bills” (ie anything above US$100) and while even then $500 & $1000 bills were still in circulation, the older issues (up to $10,000) had vanished from general use and were restricted to institutional and inter-departmental purposes.

Mint fan Lindsay Lohan with Prada Mint Satchel Tote Bag (May 2012, left), in mint green dress (February 2012, centre) and mint green bathing suit (July 2017, right).

Mintbacks: During the 1930s, there was even a US$100,000 bill but it was technically a “Treasury Gold Certificate” which never entered circulation, use restricted to transactions between branches of the Federal Reserve.  It’s interesting to speculate what a $100,000 Treasury Gold Certificate in mint condition would achieve at auction.  It would obviously have a value to numismatists because of the historical significance and collectors would be drawn to such a rarity but these certificates have not been redeemable for gold (or indeed US$) since Richard Nixon (1913-1994; US president 1969-1974) abandoned the gold standard in 1971.

Clockwise from top left: 1971 Holden Monaro GTS 350, 1970 Plymouth ‘Cuda 440-6, 1972 Ford Falcon XA GT, 1973 Triumph Stag, 1970 Plymouth Road Runner Superbird and 1971 Chrysler Valiant Charger R/T E38.

The combination of advances in manufacturing techniques and the psychedelic vibe of the late 1960s inspired manufacturers to offer some lurid shades.  It was the first time since the 1920s that purple gained some popularity but bright greens were also fashionable and in marketing departments, imaginations were allowed to wander as names were conjured.  It probably never was true that weed and acid were much involved in the process but the names certainly read as if they were and they included: Plum Crazy, In-Violet, Tor Red, Sassy Grass, Panther Pink, Sub Lime, Lime Light, Moulin Rouge, Top Banana, Lemon Twist & Citron Yella.  Although it may be an industry myth, the story told is that Plum Crazy & In-Violet (vivid shades of purple) were late additions because the killjoy board refused to sign-off on Statutory Grape.  Some of the colors used in the US were too bright to be called “mint” and the ones which were closer didn’t adopt the description but in Australia, Holden had what most would consider a “lime” green but they anyway called it “Lina Mint”, a name apparently just too good to resist.  After 1973, the bright colors vanished from the color charts for some 25 years because the use of lead in paint was banned and it wasn’t until the twenty-first century alternatives were produced at viable cost.

The Mint Julep

Mint Julep served in Julip Tin.

Famously associated with the Kentucky Derby which is one leg of the racing’s Triple Crown, the origins of the mint julep lie in ancient Persia where it was a non-alcoholic drink made with rosewater.  Julep was from the Middle English, from the Old French julep, from the Medieval Latin julapium (via the Arabic جُلَاب‎ (julāb)), from the Persian گلاب‎ (golâb) (rosewater), the construct being گل‎ (rose) + آب‎ (water).  The refreshing drink was one of the many cultural exports from the Orient which reached Europe in the seventeenth century and from there it travelled across the Atlantic where, gradually, it evolved into something alcoholic.  Like other such concoctions in post-colonial America, the julep for some time straddled the gray area of respectability between sometimes dubious medicinal preparations and party drinks and it wasn’t until the commercial ice trade expanded early in the nineteenth century it became really popular.  Now most associated with whiskey, the early recipes in the US all suggested using French brandy or cognac but as the great national switch to whiskey gained momentum in the later 1800s, the mint julep in its familiar modern form became the standard.

Ingredients

65ml bourbon
10 mint leaves
12.5ml of 2:1 sugar syrup
A big sprig of mint

Method

Prepare the 2:1 sugar syrup by dissolving 1 cup of sugar in ½ cup of water over a low heat.  Leave to cool, and then store in a bottle with a suitable pouring neck.  This will make about 1 cup of sugar syrup.  Use either a highball or julep tin and keep them under refrigeration for long enough for them to be ice-cold.  A mint julep must be served really cold.

Shake the ingredients with ice and strain into a highball glass or julep tin filled with crushed ice. Churn gently with a long-handled spoon and top with more crushed ice.  Because the scent of mint is the julep’s signature, give the mint garnish a couple of sharp claps between your palms before tucking it into the glass; this will release the aromatic oils.  Some experiment with different types of mint (apple mint, chocolate mint, spearmint et al) while other insist on sticking to the classics.  A straw is essential and the ideal ones to use are stainless steel because (1) they better maintain the temperature and (2) will last decades and reduce plastic waste.