Sunroof

Sunroof (pronounced suhn-roof)

(1) A section of an automobile roof (sometimes translucent and historically called a moonroof) which can be slid or lifted open.

(2) In obstetrics, a slang term used by surgeons to describe the Caesarean section.

1952: A compound word, the construct being sun + roof.  Sun was from the Middle English sonne & sunne, from the Old English sunne, from the Proto-West Germanic sunnā, from the Proto-Germanic sunnǭ, from the primitive Indo-European shwen-, oblique of sóhw (sun).  The other forms from the Germanic included the Saterland Frisian Sunne, the West Frisian sinne, the German Low German Sünn, the Dutch zon, the German Sonne and the Icelandic sunna.  The forms which emerged without Germanic influence included the Welsh huan, the Sanskrit स्वर् (svar) and the Avestan xᵛə̄ṇg.  The related forms were sol, Sol, Surya and Helios.  Roof was from the Middle English rof, from the Old English hrōf (roof, ceiling; top, summit; heaven, sky), from the Proto-Germanic hrōfą (roof).  Throughout the English-speaking world, roofs is now the standard plural form of roof.  Rooves does have some history but has long been thought archaic and the idea there would be something to be gained from maintaining rooves as the plural to avoid confusion with roof’s the possessive never received much support.  Despite all that, rooves does seem to appear more than might be expected, presumably because there’s much more tolerance extended to the irregular plural hooves but the lexicographers are unimpressed and insist the model to follow is poof (an onomatopoeia describing a very small explosion, accompanied usually by a puff of smoke), more than one poof correctly being “poofs”.  In use, a poof was understood as a small event but that's obviously a spectrum and some poofs would have been larger than others so it would have been a matter of judgement when something ceased to be a “big poof” and was classed an explosion proper.  Sunroof is a noun (sometimes hyphenated); the noun plural is sunroofs.

1973 Lincoln Continental Mark IV with moonroof.

Sunroofs existed long before 1952 but that was the year the word was first adopted by manufacturers in Detroit.  The early sunroofs were folding fabric but metal units, increasingly electrically operated, were more prevalent by the early 1970s.  Ford, in 1973, introduced the word moonroof (which was used also as moon roof & moon-roof) to describe the sliding pane of one-way glass mounted in the roof panel over the passenger compartment of the Lincoln Continental Mark IV (1972-1976).  Moonroof soon came to describe any translucent roof panel, fixed or sliding though the term faded from use and all such things tend now to be called a sunroof.

Lindsay Lohan standing through a sunroof: Promotional photo-shoot for Herbie Fully Loaded (2005).

Unlike many manufacturers, for many years Volkswagen maintained specific “Sunroof” models in the Beetle (Type 1) range.  When in 1945 the British military occupation forces assumed control of the Volkswagen factory and commenced production of civilian models (those made since 1938 delivered almost exclusively to the German armed forces or Nazi Party functionaries), one of the first organizational changes was to replace Herr Professor Ferdinand Porsche’s (1875–1951) internal type designations with a new set and these included the 115 (Standard Beetle Sunroof Sedan (LHD (left-hand drive)), 116 (Standard Beetle Sunroof Sedan (RHD (right-hand drive)), 117 (Export Deluxe Beetle Sunroof Sedan (LHD) & Export Deluxe Beetle Sunroof Sedan (RHD).  The original sunroof was a folding, fabric apparatus and this remained in use until 1963, a steel, sliding (manually hand-cranked) unit was fitted after the release of the 1964 range.  The Beetle used in the original film (The Love Bug (1968)) was a 1963 Sunroof Beetle; at the time they were readily available at low cost but by 2004-2005 when Herbie: Fully Loaded was in production, they were less numerous and some of those used in the filming were actually 1961 models modified (to the extent required in movies) for purposes of continuity.  Interestingly, the one which appears in most scenes appears to be a 1964 model which implies the folding sunroof was at some point added, not difficult because the kits have long been available.

Caesarean section post-operative scar: C-section scar revision is now a commonly performed procedure.

Manufacturers in the 1970s devoted sizeable resources to develop the sunroof because at the time, the industry’s assumption was the implications of US FMVSS (Federal Motor Vehicle Safety Standards) 208 (roll-over protection, published 1970) fully would be realized, outlawing both convertibles and hardtops (certainly the four-doors) but the election of Ronald Reagan (1911–2004; US president 1981-1989) in 1980 changed the regulatory climate.  Reagan, not fond of dopey rules which impinged freedom, assured Detroit there’d be no ban and the first American convertibles since 1976 soon appeared, one consequence of which was legal action brought by some who had purchased (and stored with expectations of profit) 1976 Cadillac Eldorados, claiming they had been induced to buy because of the promotional campaign by General Motors (GM) using the phrase "the last American convertible”.  The cases were dismissed on the basis that GM's statements were “reasonable at the time, based on advice from government”.  No action was possible against the government on several grounds, including the doctrines of remoteness and unforeseeability.

Following Lindsay Lohan's example: President Xi standing through a sunroof, on parade in Hongqi L5 state limousine, Beijing, 2019.

The highlight of the ceremonies marking the 70^th anniversary of the founding of the People's Republic of China (PRC) was the military parade, held in Beijing on 1 October 2019.  Claimed to be the largest military parade and mass pageant in China's 4,000-odd year history (and the last mass gathering in China prior to the outbreak in Wuhan of became the COVID-19 pandemic), the formations were reviewed by the ruling Chinese Communist Party’s (CCP) General Secretary Xi Jinping (b 1953; paramount leader of the PRC since 2012).  The assembled crowd was said without exception to be “enthusiastic and happy” and the general secretary's conspicuously well-cut Mao suit was a nice nostalgic touch.

Two generals of the Belarus army take the salute standing in Honggi L5 Parade Convertibles, Minsk, Belarus, June 2017.

Independence Day in Belarus is celebrated annually on 3 June and there is always a significant military component.  Other than the PRC, Belarus is the only known operator of the Honqqi and the four-door convertible parade cars were apparently a "gift" (as opposed to foreign aid) from the Chinese government but the aspect of this photograph which attracted some comment was whether the hats worn by generals in Belarus were bigger than the famously imposing headwear of the army of the DPRK (Democratic People’s Republic of Korea (North Korea)); analysts of military millinery appeared to conclude the dimensions were similar.  Purists traditionally describe this style of coach-work as "four-door cabriolet" and it was "Cabriolet D" in the Daimler-Benz system but the "parade convertible" is a distinct breed and often includes features such as grab bars for those standing, microphones and loud-speakers so the “enthusiastic and happy” crowd don't miss a word.   

Hongqi L5 state limousine.

The car carrying President Xi was the Hongqi L5, the state limousine of the PRC, the coachwork styling a deliberately retro homage to the Hongqi CA770, the last in the line (dating from 1958) of large cars built almost exclusively for use by the upper echelons of the CCP.  Most of the earlier cars were built on the large platforms US manufacturers used in the 1960s and were powered by a variety of US-sourced V8 engines but the L5 was wholly an indigenous product, built with both a 6.0 litre (365 cubic inch) V12 and 4.0 litre (245 cubic inch) V8 although neither configuration is intended for high-performance.  Interestingly, although Hongqi L5 have produced a version of the L5 with four-door convertible coachwork as a formal parade car and they have been used both in the PRC and in Belarus, the general secretary conducted his review in a closed vehicle with a sunroof.

US President Richard Nixon (1913-1994, US president 1969-1974) with Anwar Sadat (1918–1981; President of Egypt 1970-1981) in a 1967 Cadillac convertible, Alexandria, Egypt, June 1974.  On that day, the motorcade was 180-strong and unlike the reception his appearance in the US now induced, the Egyptian crowd really did seem genuinely enthusiastic and happy.  Within two months, in disgrace because of his part in the Watergate Affair, Nixon would resign.

The CCP didn’t comment on the choice of a car with a sunroof and it may have been made on technical grounds, the provision of a microphone array presumably easier with the roof available as a mounting point and given the motorcade travelled a higher speed than a traditional parade, it would also have provided a more stable platform for the general secretary.  It’s not thought there was any concern about security, Xi Jinping (for a variety of reasons) safer in his capital than many leaders although heads of state and government became notably more reticent about travelling in open-topped vehicles after John Kennedy (1917–1963; US president 1961-1963) was assassinated in 1963.  Some, perhaps encouraged by Richard Nixon being greeted by cheering crowds in 1974 when driven through the streets of Alexandria (a potent reminder of how things have changed) in a Cadillac convertible, persisted but after the attempt on the life of John Paul II (1920–2005; pope 1978-2005) in 1981, there’s been a trend to roofs all the way, sometimes molded in translucent materials of increasing chemical complexity to afford some protection from assassins.

Military parade marking the 70^th anniversary of the founding of the PRC, Beijing, China, 1 October 2019.  Great set-piece military parades like those conducted by the PRC and DPRK (recalling the spectacles staged by both Nazi Germany (1933-1945) and the Soviet Union (1922-1991) are now packaged for television and distribution on streaming platforms and it may be Donald Trump (b 1946; US president 2017-2021 and since 2025) was hoping the "Grand Military Parade" he scheduled in 2025 for his 79^th birthday (ostensibly to celebrate 250 years since the formation of the US Army) would display the same impressive precision in chorography.     

Covering all possibilities during the 24 hour cycle.  US advertisement (1974) for the Renault 17 Gordini Coupe Convertible, the Gordini tag adopted as a "re-brand" of the top-of-the-range R17 (1971-1979).  Gordini was a French sports car producer and tuning house, absorbed by Renault in 1968, the name from time-to-time used for high-performance variants of various Renault models.

Renault over the decades made the occasional foray into the tempting US market but all ended badly in one way or another, their products, whatever their sometimes real virtues, tending not to be suited to US driving habits and conditions.  Sunroofs had long been popular in Europe and, noting (1) what was assumed to be the demise of the convertible and (2) Lincoln's coining of "moon roof", Renault decided Americans deserved a sunroof, moonroof & starroof, all in one.  Actually, they got even more because there was also a removable, fibreglass hardtop for the winter months, Renault correctly concluding there would be little demand for a rainroof.  Physically large as it had to be, unlike a targa top, the 17's panel was intended (like other hardtops) to be stored in a garage until the warmer months.  One quirk of the R17's nomenclature was in Italy, in deference to the national heptadecaphobia, the car was sold as the R177 but the Italians showed little more interest than the Americans.

Porsche, sunroofs, weight distribution and centres of gravity 

Porsche 917K, Le Mans, 1970.

Porsche in the early 1970s enjoyed great success in sports car racing with their extraordinary 917 but greatly innovation and speed disturb the clipboard-carriers at the Fédération Internationale de l'Automobile (the FIA; the International Automobile Federation) which is international sport's dopiest regulatory body.  Inclined instinctively to ban anything interesting, the FIA outlawed the 917 in sports car racing so Porsche turned its glance to the Can-Am (Canadian-American Challenge Cup) for unlimited displacement (Group 7) sports cars, then dominated by the McLarens powered by big-displacement Chevrolet V8s.  Unable to enlarge the 917's Flat-12 to match the power of the V8s and finding their prototype Flat-16 too bulky, Porsche resorted to forced aspiration and created what came to be known as the "TurboPanzer", a 917 which in qualifying trim took to the tracks with some 1,500 horsepower (HP).  There's since been nothing quite like it and for two years it dominated the Can-Am until the first oil shock in 1973 put an end to the fun.  However, the lessons learned about turbocharging the factory would soon put to good use.

The widow-maker: 1975 Porsche 930 with the rare and surprisingly desirable (for some) “sunroof delete” option.

Introduced in 1975, the 911 Turbo (930 the internal designation) had been intended purely as a homologation exercise (al la the earlier 911 RS Carrera) so the engine could be used in competition but so popular did it prove it was added to the list as a regular production model and one has been a permanent part of the catalogue almost continuously since.  The additional power and its sometimes sudden arrival meant the early versions were famously twitchy at the limit (and such was the power those limits were easily reached if not long explored), gaining the machine the nickname “widow-maker”.  There was plenty of advice available for drivers, the most useful probably the instruction not to use the same technique when cornering as one might in a front-engined car and a caution that even if one had had a Volkswagen Beetle while a student, that experience might not be enough to prepare one for a Porsche Turbo.  When stresses are extreme, the physics mean the location of small amounts of weight become subject to a multiplier-effect and the advice was those wishing to explore a 930's limits of adhesion should get one with the rare “sunroof delete” option, the lack of the additional weight up there slightly lowering the centre of gravity.  However, even that precaution may only have delayed the inevitable and possibly made the consequences worse, one travelling a little faster before the tail-heavy beast misbehaved.

Porsche 911 Carrera S, Pacific Coast Highway in Santa Monica, Los Angeles, June 2012.

Although it seems improbable, when in 2012 Lindsay Lohan crashed a sunroof-equipped Porsche 911 Carrera, it's not impossible the unfortunate event may have been related to the slight change in the car's centre of gravity when fitted with a sunroof.  She anyway had some bad luck when driving black German cars but clearly Ms Lohan should avoid Porsches with sunroofs.

The interaction of the weight of a 911’s roof (and thus the centre of gravity) and the rearward bias of the weight distribution was not a thing of urban myth or computer simulations.  In the February 1972 edition of the US magazine Car and Driver (C&D), a comparison test was run of the three flavours of the revised 911 (911T, 911E & 911S), using one of each of the available bodies: coupé, targa & sunroof coupé, the latter with the most additional weight in the roof.  What the testers noted in the targa & sunroof-equipped 911s was a greater tendency to twitchiness in corners, something no doubt exacerbated in the sunroof coupé because the sliding panel’s electric motor was installed in the engine bay.  C&D’s conclusion was: “If handling is your goal, it's best to stick with the plain coupe.”  

The Porsche 911 E series and the Ölklappe affair

1971 Porsche 911S (note the flap for the oil filler cap behind the passenger-side door (US market model and thus left-hand drive (LHD)).  The factory confirmed this car was built in July 1971, despite many references to E series production beginning in August.

Although in C&D's 1972 comparison test there was much focus on the rearward weight bias, the three 911s supplied actually had a slightly less tail-heavy weight distribution than either that season's predecessor or successor.  Porsche in 1971 began the build of its E series update (produced between July 1971-July 1972 and generally known as the “1972 models”) of the then almost decade-old 911 and in addition to the increase in the flat-six’s displacement from 2.2 litres (134 cubic inch) to 2.3 (143) (although always referred to as the “2.4”), there were a myriad of changes, some in response to US safety & emissions legislation while others were part of normal product development.  One of latter was the placing of the hinged-flap over the oil filler cap behind the right side door, something necessitated by the dry sump oil tank having been re-located from behind the right rear wheel to in front, one of a number of design changes undertaken to shift the weight distribution forward and improve the handling of the rear-engined machine’s inherently tail-heavy configuration.  In Germany, the addition was known variously as Ölklappe, Oil Klapper or Vierte Tür (fourth door, the fuel filler flap being the third).  Weight reduction (then becoming difficult in the increasingly strict regulatory environment), especially at the rear, was also a design imperative and the early-build E series cars were fitted with an aluminum engine lid and license-plate panel although these components were soon switched to steel because of production difficulties and durability concerns.

Where the troubles began:  The fuel filler flap on the left-front fender (left) and the oil filler flap on the right-rear fender (right).  Apparently, not even the “◀ Oil” sticker in red was sufficient warning.

For the E series 911s, Porsche recommended the use of a multigrade mineral oil (SAE 20W-50 or SAE 15W-40, depending on climate) but were aware those using their vehicles in competition sometimes used a high-viscosity SAE 50 monograde.  With the car’s 10 litre (10.6 US quarts, 8.8 Imperial quarts) oil tank, the fluid’s weight would be between 8.5-9.1 kg (18.7-20.0 lb) and the physics of motion meant that the more rearward the placement of that mass, the greater the effect on the 911’s handling characteristics.  It was thus a useful contribution to what would prove a decades-long quest to tame the behaviour of what, in the early versions, was a car regarded (not wholly unfairly) as handling like “a very fast Volkswagen Beetle” and ultimately the engineers succeeded, it being only at the speeds which should be restricted to race tracks the 911s of the 2020s sometimes reveal the implications of being rear-engined.

VDO instruments in 1971 Porsche 911S.  In home market cars, the oil pressure gauge (to the left of the centrally mounted tachometer) was labelled DRUCK.

However, when in August 1972 the revised F series entered production, the oil tank was back behind the rear wheel and the filler under the engine lid, the retrogressive move taken because there had been instances of gas (petrol) station attendants (they really used to exist) assuming the oil filler flap was the access point for the gas cap and, to be fair, it was in a location used for gas on many front-engined cars (a majority of the passenger-car fleet in most markets where Porsche had a presence).  Quite how often this happened isn’t known but it must have been frequent enough for the story to become part of the 911 legend and the consequences could have been severe and rectification expensive.  The factory paid much attention to oil and also ensured drivers could monitor the status of the critical fluid; all air-cooled 911s ran hot and the more highly tuned the model (in 1971-1972 the 911T, E & S in increasing potency), the hotter they got.  As well as being a lubricant, engine oil functions also as a coolant and the VDO instrumentation included gauges for oil level, oil temperature, and oil pressure; for all three to appear in a road car was unusual but being air-cooled and thus with no conventional fluid coolant, the oil's dynamics were most important.

Intertwingle

Intertwingle (pronounced in-tur-wing-guhl)

(1) To confuse or entangle together; to enmesh, to muddle.

(2) As intertwingularity, in computing and systems analysis & organization (of documents, data etc), to interconnect or interrelate in a complex way which appears to a user simple and lineal.

Late 1800s: Thought to be a portmanteau word, the construct being a blend of intertw(ine) + (interm)ingle and of interest to students of linguistics because it appears independently to have been coined at different times in different places.  The prefix inter- was from the Latin inter- (between, amid), a form of the prepositional inter (between).  Twine was from the Middle English twyn, twine & twin, from the Old English twīn (double thread, twist, twine, linen-thread, linen), from the Proto-West Germanic twiʀn (thread, twine), from the primitive Indo-European dwisnós (double), from dwóh (two).  The construct of mingle ming (from the From Middle English mingen & mengen, from the Old English mengan (to mix, combine, unite, associate with, consort, cohabit with, disturb, converse), from the Proto-West Germanic mangijan (“to mix, knead”), from the primitive Indo-European menk- (to rumple, knead)). It was cognate with the Dutch mengen (to mix, blend, mingle), the German mengen (to mix), the Danish mænge (to rub), the Old English ġemang (mixture, union, troop, crowd, multitude, congregation, assembly, business, cohabitation)) +‎ -le (a frequentative suffix of verbs, indicating repetition or continuousness).  It was cognate with the Dutch mengen (to mingle, mix) and the German mengen (to mingle, mix).  Interwingle is a noun & verb, intertwingling & intertwingularity are nouns and intertwingled is an adjective; the noun plural is intertwingularities.  By implication, the nouns intertwinglism & intertwinglist should exist but seem not to have been used.

Lindsay Lohan, who has led an intertwingled life.  The publicity shot for Just My Luck (2006) was wholly serendipitous and did not come from a session.

Intertwingle was used by Manmatha Nath Dutt (1855–1912) in The Dharma Sastra (Volume 1, 1896), one of his collections of translations into English of ancient Sanskrit & Hindu texts; under the Raj, he was a prolific translator and author and his use appears to the first known coining.  As a comic device, it was used by Montgomery Gordon Rice of Bradley Polytechnic Institute in a performance of Esmeralda (a fictional character in Victor Hugo's (1802–1885) novel Notre-Dame de Paris. 1482 (The Hunchback of Notre-Dame, 1831)) conducted during the April 1901 graduation ceremony and many instances of use have been jocular.  As a noun, the author Henry James (1843–1916) applied it as a nickname for a group of his Emmet female cousins (all of who were painters) and the use in that sense was in the vein of the way Admiral Lord Charles Beresford (1846-1919) would use “the souls” of some female acquaintances he thought discussed their feelings entirely too much.  For the US portraitist John Singer Sargent (1856–1925) it was his nickname for his early twentieth century genre paintings of his nieces, the Ormond sisters.  Sargent’s reference was to “element interchangeability”: his use of shawls as a motif and the easy substitution of one model for another, their artistic presence defined less by individual identity than the convoluted poses.  Coincidentally, as well as being one of Henry James’ “intertwingles”, the US artist Jane Emmet de Glehn (1873–1961) was one of Sargent’s muses. )

As the twentieth century progressed and in a number of fields there emerged a new literature exploring the concept of “everything being connected to everything else” and Tracy Baldwin Augur (1896-1974) found it handy (apparently as an eye-catching linguistic novelty) in a 1954 paper discussing urban planning, a discipline where truly there is much intertwingling.  Between 1933-1948 Augur had been principal planner for the TVA (Tennessee Valley Authority) and by the 1950s he was working for the URA (Urban Renewal Administration) and HHFA (Housing and Home Finance Agency), the proliferation of the alphabet soup of acronyms which had begun under the administration of Franklin Delano Roosevelt (FDR, 1882–1945, US president 1933-1945) not slowing in the post-war years.  In the discipline of town-planning the phrase “inextricably intertwined” was used in many contexts so perhaps the appearance of intertwingle was inevitable.

The use in IT and the analysis & organization of documents, data and such was in 1974 described as “intertwingularity” and defined as the deep and complex interconnection or interrelation of digital objects of any kind, and in a teleological sense the purpose was to make the connections permanently stable and accessible to users in a way which would seem seamless and lineal.  The noun intertwingularity was coined by US sociologist Dr Theodor Holm "Ted" Nelson (b 1937) and it appeared first in his book Computer Lib/Dream Machines (1974) which discussed the complexity of interrelations in human knowledge.  Dr Nelson’s most enduring legacy is Project Xanadu which, remarkably, has been in development since 1960, the objective (which evolved eventually) being a kind of macro-network, unifying all data, accessible through a simple, intuitive user interface.  Conceptually, that does of course sound like the vision imagined when the www (world wide web) was bolted onto to the internet but Dr Nelson’s critique of that sprawling, ubiquitous thing is that its “web page” approach is inherently flawed because, as IRL (in real life) when pages can be thrown away, deleting a page means a dozen or a billion hyperlinks once active around the planet are rendered instantly “broken”; what’s lacking is global content management to keep track of it all.  The project’s roots in 1960 envisages what would later be understood as hypertext but acceptance of Dr Nelson’s ideas took some time because he was speculating about hardware and software which did not then exist and would not for decades attain critical mass and the landmark Computer Lib/Dream Machines, while fleshing out the details, did so in a discursive manner better suited to modernist experimental fiction.

Conceptual illustration of intertwingling from Computer Lib/Dream Machines (1974).

Dr Nelson seems always to have liked the word “everything” (although he does allow that for some things, “most” is better”) and the most intriguing speculation, built on the notion of “everything being intertwingled”, was tied up with quantum entanglement which suggests connectivity need not be based on proximity or visible connection.  In this theory, what is now described as “dark energy” (the thus far undetectable stuff in the universe which the math of what has been detected suggests must exist) is thought potentially to be “time” itself, the universe’s most fundamental framework where it’s not so much that everything is “entangled” but that everything is (on a grand scale) a singularity and everything is happening at the same time with only the operation of (distance-based) relativity creating an observer’s perception of difference.

Applied Intertwingling: In fields like political science or organizational behaviour, the intertwingling of objects is often illustrated in ways which depict not only the existence but also the nature of a relationship.

Intoxicatingly simple in concept, the practical implications of the Xanadu resulted in something which became more complex as layers were implemented because each made obvious that more layers still were needed.  Lacking resources, Dr Nelson, cognizant of developments in computer networking, announced Xanadu should be thought a mechanism for handing information (regardless of physical location) as if existed in a unified repository.  While he didn’t use the phrase “virtual library” that seems to be how it would now be understood and in an interesting harbinger of how Facebook would in the twenty-first century describe its curated macro-space, he described Xanadu as a “docuverse”.  That was an interesting vision but development required cubic money and it wasn’t until the early 1980s when the adoption by business of the original IBM PC (1981) as a kind of corporate standard that funding was found, building on a file addressing system based on “tumblers” which were an implementation of transfinite numbers.  Transfinite numbers exist in the branch of set theory, a fundamental area of mathematical logic that studies collections of objects; set theory is the formal framework onto which infinity can be mapped.  For Xanadu to be scalable to an infinite number of documents, the numbers in use needed to be infinite but because one layer of the process was indexing, those numbers needed to be distinct in size and order, thus the utility of the transfinite.  Except in some vague conceptual sense, it’s really only (some) mathematicians who understand all this.

Xanadu’s original 17 rules

(1) Every Xanadu server is uniquely and securely identified.

(2) Every Xanadu server can be operated independently or in a network.

(3) Every user is uniquely and securely identified.

(4) Every user can search, retrieve, create and store documents.

(5) Every document can consist of any number of parts each of which may be of any data type.

(6) Every document can contain links of any type including virtual copies (“transclusions”) to any other document in the system accessible to its owner.

(7) Links are visible and can be followed from all endpoints.

(8) Permission to link to a document is explicitly granted by the act of publication.

(9) Every document can contain a royalty mechanism at any desired degree of granularity to ensure payment on any portion accessed, including virtual copies (“transclusions”) of all or part of the document.

(10) Every document is uniquely and securely identified.

(11) Every document can have secure access controls.

(12) Every document can be rapidly searched, stored and retrieved without user knowledge of where it is physically stored.

(13) Every document is automatically moved to physical storage appropriate to its frequency of access from any given location.

(14) Every document is automatically stored redundantly to maintain availability even in case of a disaster.

(15) Every Xanadu service provider can charge their users at any rate they choose for the storage, retrieval and publishing of documents.

(16) Every transaction is secure and auditable only by the parties to that transaction.

(17) The Xanadu client-server communication protocol is an openly published standard. Third-party software development and integration is encouraged.

By the early 1990s it was clear Xanadu “worked”, at least at the scale existing hardware made possible but the emergence of the www (World Wide Web) diverted the industry’s attention and by 1995 when it was clear the Web had gained critical mass, the view seemed to be Xanadu might be a slightly better or slightly worse mousetrap and soon comparisons were being with the “OS (operating system) war” between Microsoft’s Windows NT and IBM’s OS/2.  Dr Nelson however was not deterred and successive releases of implementations of parts of the Project Xanadu model were in the twenty-first century released until OpenXanadu was in 2014 made available on the Web.  Explaining how it differed from hypertext as it was done on the Web, Dr Nelson claimed HTTP (Hypertext Transfer Protocol) was inherently flawed because, the metaphor being one of bound pages, it was so prone to broken links as one page was torn off, that meaning collectively an array of dozens (or millions, trillions etc) of dead links to other dead pages.  What tumblers did was provide an address able to maintain linkages to not merely a single object (which HTTP envisages as a “piece of paper”) but an infinite set of links, achieved because transfinite numbers can handle what can be visualized as a cascade of information, the linkages between which are unlimited; this was the inheritance of the “docuverse”.  Those impressed by both the potential and drawbacks of the Blockchain will be struck by the overlaps.

Knowledge Nation, which at the time seemed a good idea but wasn’t suited to the banality of modern politics.

For the 2001 federal election in Australia, a part of the opposition Australian Labor Party’s (ALP) platform was “Knowledge Nation”, a summary of its education policy, developed by polymath and former minister for science Barry Jones (b 1932).  During the campaign, what was substantive in Knowledge Nation was little discussed because the government immediately attacked the illustrative chart which was a representation of the many components connected within the education system.  Derided as “Noodle Nation”, it was an example of why it’s no longer wise for politicians to offer anything much beyond a TWS (three word slogan).  The reaction today to a political party circulating something like The Federalist (a collection of 85 articles and essays (1787-1788) advocating the ratification of the Constitution of the United States) would be something like the “noodle nation moment”.  These days, intertwingling is best neither seen nor heard.

Decalcomania

Decalcomania (pronounced dih-kal-kuh-mey-nee-uh or dih-kal-kuh-meyn-yuh)

(1) The process of transferring designs from specially prepared paper to cardboard, paper, wood, metal, china, glass etc.

(2) A design so transferred (always rare).

1864: From the French décalcomanie, the construct being décalc- (representing décalquer (to trace, transfer (a design)) the construct being dé- (in the sense of “off”) + calquer (to press) + the interfix “-o-” + -manie (–mania).  Decalcomania is a noun; the noun plural is decalcomanias (the plural in French was decalcomania).  Disappointingly, the noun decalcomaniac is non-standard.

The French prefix dé- partly was inherited from the Middle French des-, from the Old French des-, from a conflation of Latin dis- (apart) (ultimately from the primitive Indo-European dwís).  In English, the de- prefix was from the Latin dē-, from the preposition dē (of, from (the Old English æf- was a similar prefix)).  It imparted the sense of (1) reversal, undoing, removing, (2) intensification and (3) derived from; of off.  In French the dé- prefix was used to make antonyms (as un- & dis- function in English) and was partially inherited from the Old and Middle French des-, from the Latin dis- (part), the ultimate source being the primitive Indo-European dwís and partially borrowed from Latin dē-.  In English de- became a most active word-forming element, used with many verbs in some way gained French or Latin.  The frequent use in Latin as “down, down from, from, off; down to the bottom & totally (hence “completely” (intensive or completive)) came to be reflected in many English words.  As a Latin prefix it was used also to “undo” or “reverse” a verb's action; it thus came to be used as a pure privative (ie “not, do the opposite of, undo”) and that remains the predominant function as a living prefix in English such as defrost (1895 and a symbol of the new age of consumer-level refrigeration), defuse (1943 and thus obviously something encouraged by the sudden increase in live bombs in civilian areas which need the fuses to be removed to render them safe) and de-escalate (1964, one of the first linguistic contributions of the political spin related to the war in Vietnam).  In many cases, there is no substantive difference between using de- or dis- as a prefix and the choice can be simply one of stylistic preference.  Calquer (to press) was from the Italian calcare, from the Latin calcāre (to tread on; to press (that sense derived from calx (heel)).

The suffix –mania was from the Latin mania, from the Ancient Greek μανία (mania) (madness).  In modern use in psychiatry it is used to describe a state of abnormally elevated or irritable mood, arousal, and/or energy levels and as a suffix appended as required.  In general use, under the influence of the historic meaning (violent derangement of mind; madness; insanity), it’s applied to describe any “excessive or unreasonable desire; a passion or fanaticism” which can us used even of unthreatening behaviors such as “a mania for flower arranging, crochet etc”.  As a suffix, it’s often appended with the interfix -o- make pronunciation more natural.  The use of the suffix “-mania” in “decalcomania” may appear a curious use of an element in a word describing a process in graphical or decorative art given usually it’s appended to reference a kind of obsession or madness (kleptomania, bibliomania, megalomania et al) but here it’s used in a more abstract way.  The “-manie” in the French décalcomanie was used to suggest a fad or craze (the latter in the sense of something suddenly widely popular) and was not related to the way “mania” is used by mental health clinicians.  So, it was metaphorical rather than medical rather as “Tulipmania” came to be used of the seventeenth century economic bubble in the Netherlands which was centred on the supply of and demand for tulip bulbs.

TeePublic’s Lindsay Lohan decals (page one).

The noun decal (pronounced dee-kal or dih-kal) was in use by at least 1910 as a clipping of decalcomania, a process which came into vogue in France as early as the 1840s before crossing the channel, England taking up the trend in the early 1860s.  As a noun it referred to (1) the prepared paper (or other medium) bearing a image, text, design etc for transfer to another surface (wood, metal, glass, etc) or (2) the picture or design itself.  The verb (“to decal” and also as decaled or decaling) described the process of applying or transferring the image (or whatever) from the medium by decalcomania.  The noun plural is decals.  In the US, the word came to be used of adhesive stickers which could be promotional or decorative and this use is now common throughout the English speaking world.  The special use (by analogy) in computer graphics describes a texture overlaid atop another to provide additional detailing.

Variants of the transfer technique which came to be called decalcomania would for centuries have been used by artists before it became popularized in the mid-eighteenth century.  The method was simply to spread ink or paint onto a surface and, before the substances dried, it was covered with material such as such as paper, glass, or metallic foil, which, when removed, transferred the pattern which could be left in that form or embellished.  Originally the designs were deliberate but the innovation of the Surrealists was to create imagery by chance rather than conscious control of the materials.  The artistic merits of that approach can be discussed but young children have long taken to it like ducks to water, splashing colors on one side of a piece of paper and then folding it in half so, once pressed together, the shape is “mirrored”, creating what is called a “butterfly print”, something like the cards used in the Rorschach tests.

Although an ancient practice, it is French engraver Simon François Ravenet (1706–circa 1774) who is crediting with give the technique its name because he called it décalquer (from the French papier de calque (tracing paper) and this coincided with painters in Europe experimenting with ink blots to add “accidental” forms of expression into their work.  Ravenet spent years working in England (where usually he was styled Simon Francis Ravenet) and was influential in the mid century revival of engraving although it was in ceramics decalcomania first became popular although the word didn’t come into wide use until adopted by the Spanish-born French surrealist Óscar Domínguez (1906–1957).  It was perhaps the German Dadaist and Surrealist Max Ernst (1891–1976) who more than most exemplified the possibilities offered decalcomania and it was US philosopher turned artist Robert Motherwell (1915–1991) who said of him: “Like every consequential modern painter, Max Ernst has enforced his own madness on the world.”  Motherwell was of the New York School (which also included the Russian-born Mark Rothko (1903–1970), drip painter Jackson Pollock (1912-1956) and the Dutch-American Willem de Kooning (1904–1997)) so he was no stranger to the observation of madness.  Condemned by the Nazis variously as an abstractionist, modernist, Dadaist and Surrealist, Ernst fled to Paris and after the outbreak of World War II (1939-1945) he was one of a number of artistic and political figures who enjoyed the distinction of being imprisoned by both the French and the Gestapo; it was with the help of US art patron and collector Peggy Guggenheim (1898–1979) he in 1941 escaped Vichy France and fled to the US.

That “help” involved their marriage, hurriedly arranged shortly after the pair landed in New York but although in the technical sense a “marriage of convenience”, she does seem genuinely to have been fond of Ernst and some romantic element wasn’t entirely absent from their relationship although it’s acknowledged it was a “troubled” marriage. A divorce was granted in 1946 but artistically, she remained faithful, his work displayed prominently in her New York gallery (Art of This Century (1942–1947)), then the city’s most significant centre of the avant-garde.  Through this exposure, although he never quite became integrated into the (surprisingly insular) circle of abstract expressionists, Ernst not only became acquainted with the new wave of American artists but contributed also to making European modernism familiar to Americans at a time when the tastes of collectors (and many critics) remained conservative.  He was an important element in her broader mission to preserve and promote avant-garde art despite the disruption of war.  So, the relationship was part patronage and part curatorial judgment and historians haven’t dwelt too much on the extent it was part love; even after their divorce, Guggenheim continued to collect pieces by Ernst and they remain in her famous “Venice Collection” at the Palazzo Venier dei Leoni.  As a wife she would have had opinions of her husband but as a critic she also classified and never said of Ernst as she said of Pollock: “...the greatest painter since Picasso.”

Untitled (1935), Decalcomania (ink transfer) on paper by André Breton.

For Ernst, the significance of decalcomania was not its utility as a tool of production (as it would appeal to graphic artists and decal-makers) but as something which would result in a randomness to excite his imagination.  What he did was use the oil paint as it ended up on canvas after being “pressed” as merely the starting point, onto which he built elements of realism, suggesting often mythical creatures in strange, unknown places but that was just one fork of decalcomania, Georges Hugnet (1906–1974) rendering satirical images from what he found while André Breton (1896–1966 and a “multi-media” figure decades before term emerged) used the technique to hone surrealism, truly decalcomania’s native environment.

Decalcomania in psychiatry and art: Three of the ink-blot cards (top row) included by Swiss psychiatrist Hermann Rorschach (1885-1922) in his Rorschach Test (1927), a projective psychological tool in which subjects' perceptions of inkblots are recorded and then analyzed with psychological interpretation or historical statistical comparison (and now, also AI (artificial intelligence)) and three images from the Pornographic Drawing series by Cornelia Parker (bottom row).

Nor has decalcomania been abandoned by artists, English installation specialist Cornelia Parker (b 1956) producing drawings which overlaid contemporary materials onto surfaces created with the decalcomania process, the best known of which was the series Pornographic Drawing (1996) in which an inky substance extracted from pornographic film material was applied to paper, folded in half and opened again to reveal the sexualised imagery which emerged through the intervention of chance.  Although it’s speculative, had Ms Parker’s work been available and explained to the Nazi defendants at the first Nuremberg Trial (1945-1946) when they were considering the Rorschach Test cards, their responses would likely have been different.  Rudolf Hess (1894–1987; Nazi Deputy Führer 1933-1941) would have been disgusted and become taciturn while Julius Streicher (1885–1946; Nazi Gauleiter of Franconia 1929-1940) would have been stimulated to the point of excitement.

Europe after the Rain II, 1940-1942 (Circa 1941), oil on canvas by Max Ernst.

Regarded as his masterpiece, Europe after the Rain II (often sub-titled “An Abstract, Apocalyptic Landscape”) was intended to evoke feelings of despair, exhaustion, desolation and a fear of the implications of the destructive power of modern, mechanized warfare.  It was a companion work to an earlier to the earlier Europe after the Rain I, (1933), sculpted from plaster and oil on plywood in which Ernst built on a decalcomania base to render an imaginary relief map of Europe.  It was in 1933 Adolf Hitler (1889-1945; Führer (leader) and German head of government 1933-1945 & head of state 1934-1945) gained power in Germany.

Europe after the Rain I, (1933), oil & plaster on plywood by Max Ernst.

Even the physical base of Europe After the Rain I was a piece of surrealist symbolism, the plywood taken from the stage sets used for the film L'Âge d'or (1930) (The Age of Gold or the Golden Age depending on the translator's interpretation).  Directed by Spaniard Luis Buñuel (1900-1983), L'Âge d'or was a film focused on the sexual mores of bourgeois society and a critique of the hypocrisies and contradictions of the Roman Catholic Church's clerical establishment.  While one of France's first "sound films", it was, as was typical during what was a transitional era, told mostly with the use of title cards, the full-screen explanatory texts which appeared between scenes.

Snow Flowers (1929) oil on canvas by means of frottage & grattage by Max Ernst.

Technically, Ernst was an innovator in Decalcomania, in 1925 using the technique of frottage (laying a sheet of paper over a textured surface and rubbing it with charcoal or graphite).  The appeal of this was it imparted the quality of three dimensionality and Ernst liked textured surfaces as passages in a larger composition.  He also employed grattage (frottage’s sister technique) in which an object is placed under a piece of paper, which is then covered with a thin layer of pigment and once the pigment is scraped off, what is revealed is a colorful imprint of the object and its texture.

1969 Chrysler (Australia) VF Valiant Pacer 225 (left), 1980 Porsche 924 Turbo (centre) and cloisonné Scuderia Ferrari fender shield on 1996 Ferrari F355 Spider (right).

There was a time when decals on cars were, by some, looked down upon because they were obviously cheaper than badges made of metal.  That attitude changed for a number of reasons including their use on sexy, high-performance cars, the increasing use of decals on race cars after advertising became universally permitted after 1968 and the advent of plastic badges which, being cheaper to produce and affix, soon supplanted metal on all but the most expensive vehicles.  By the mid 1970s, even companies such as Porsche routinely applied decals and the Scuderia Ferrari fender shield, used originally on the cars run by the factory racing team, became a popular after-market accessory and within the Ferrari community, there was a clear hierarchy of respectability between thin, “stuck on” printed decals and the more substantial cloisonné items.

A video clip explaining why a Scuderia Ferrari fender shield costs US$14,000 if it's painted in the factory.

However, many of the cloisonné shields were non-authentic (ie not a factory part number), even the most expensive selling for less than US$1000 and there was no obvious way to advertise one had a genuine “made in Maranello” item.  Ferrari’s solution was to offer as a factory option a form of decalcomania, hand-painted by an artisan in a process said to take about eight hours.  To reassure its consumers (keen students of what the evil Montgomery Burns (of The Simpsons TV cartoon series) calls “price taggery”), the option is advertised (depending on the market) at around US$14,000.