Hang (pronounced hang)
(1) To
fasten or attach a thing so that it is supported only from above or at a
point near its own top; to attach or suspend so as to allow free movement.
(2) To
place in position or fasten so as to allow easy or ready movement.
(3) To
put to death by suspending by the neck from a gallows, gibbet, yardarm, or the
like; to suspend (oneself) by the neck until dead.
(4) To
fasten to a cross; crucify.
(5) To
furnish or decorate with something suspended.
(6) In
fine art, to exhibit a painting or group of paintings.
(7) To
attach or annex as an addition.
(8) In
building, to attach (a door or the like) to its frame by means of hinges.
(9) To
make an idea, form etc dependent on a situation, structure, concept, or the
like, usually derived from another source.
(10) As
hung jury, hung parliament etc, where deliberative body is unable to achieve a
majority verdict in a vote.
(11) In
informal use, to cause a nickname, epithet etc to become associated with a
person
(12) In
nautical use, to steady (a boat) in one place against a wind or current by
thrusting a pole or the like into the bottom under the boat and allowing the
wind or current to push the boat side-on against the pole.
(13) To
incline downward, jut out, or lean over or forward.
(14) To
linger, remain, or persist; to float or hover in the air.
(15) In
informal use (to get the hang of), the precise manner of doing, using, etc,
something; knack.
(16) In
computing, as “to hang”, usually a synonym for “freeze”. Nerds insist a hang refers only to a loss of
control by manual input devices (mouse; keyboard etc) while the machine remains
responsive to remote control whereas a freeze is a total lock-up.
(18) In
chess (transitive) to cause a piece to become vulnerable to capture and
(intransitive) to be vulnerable to capture.
(19) As
“hang up”, to end a phone call, a use which has continued even though many
phone handsets no longer physically “hang up”.
Pre 900: A fusion of three verbs: (1) the Middle
English and Old English hōn (to hang;
be hanging) (transitive), cognate with the Gothic hāhan (originally haghan);
(2) the Middle English hang(i)en
& Old English hangian (to hang)
(intransitive), cognate with the German hangen;
and (3) the Middle English henge from
the Old Norse hanga & hengja (suspend) (transitive), cognate
with the German hängen & hangēn (to hang).
Ultimate
source of all forms was the Proto-Germanic hanhaną
(related to the Dutch hangen, the Low
German hangen & hängen, the German hängen, the Norwegian Bokmål henge
& Norwegian Nynorsk henga),
root being the primitive Indo-European ḱenk- (to waver, be in suspense). Etymologists compare the evolution with the Gothic
hāhan, the Hittite gang- (to hang), the Sanskrit शङ्कते (śáṅkate) (is in doubt; hesitates), the Albanian çengë (a hook) and the Latin cunctari (to delay). From the Latin cunctari, Modern English retains the very useful cunctator (a procrastinator; one who
delays).
Past
tense: hung and hanged
Hang
has two forms for past tense and past participle, “hanged” and “hung”. The older form hanged is now used exclusively
in the sense of putting to death on the gallows by means of a lawful execution,
sanctioned by the state. Even in places
where capital punishment is no longer used, it remains the correct word to use
in its historical context.
There
are two forms because the word “hang” came from two different verbs in Old
English (with a relationship to one from Old Norse). One of these Old English verbs was considered
a regular verb and this gave rise to “hanged”; the other was irregular, and
ended up as “hung”. Hanged and hung were
used interchangeably for hundreds of years but over time, hung became the more
common. Hanged retained its position
when used to refer to death by hanging because it became fossilized in both
statute and common law; it thus escaped the development of Modern English which
tended increasingly to simplified forms.
Even the familiar phrase hung,
drawn and quartered originally used “hanged”, a change reflecting popular
use. The only novel variation to emerge
in recent years has been to use hanged to describe executions ordered by a
state and hung when referring to suicides by hanging although this remains still
a trend rather than an accepted convention of use.
Fowler’s
Modern English Usage holds it isn’t
necessarily erroneous to use hung in the case of executions, just less
customary in Standard English but, like most guides, acknowledge the
distinction still exists while noting the use of hung is both widespread and
tolerated. The consensus seems to be it’s
best to follow the old practice but not get too hung up about it.
Hung and not hung
Portrait
of Oliver Cromwell (1650), oil on canvas by Samuel Cooper (1609-1672).Even if it’s something ephemeral, politicians are often sensitive
about representations of their image but concerns are heightened when it’s a portrait which, often somewhere hung on public view, will long outlive them. Although in the modern age the proliferation and
accessibility of the of the photographic record has meant portraits no longer
enjoy an exclusivity in the depiction of history, there’s still something about a portrait which
conveys, however misleadingly, a certain authority. That’s not to suggest the classic
representational portraits have always been wholly authentic, a good many of
those of the good and great acknowledged to have been painted by “sympathetic”
artists known for their subtleties in rendering their subjects variously more
slender, youthful or hirsute as the raw material required. Probably few were like Oliver Cromwell (1599–1658;
Lord Protector of the Commonwealth 1653-1658) who told Samuel Cooper to paint him “warts and all”. The artist
obliged.
Although certain about the afterlife, Cromwell
was a practical politician with few illusions about life on earth. Once, when being driven in a coach through
cheering crowds, his companion remarked that his popularity with the people
must be pleasing. The Lord Protector
replied he had no doubt they’d be cheering just as loud were he being taken to the
gallows to be hanged.
Exhibition of images of Lindsay Lohan by
Richard Phillips (b 1962), hung in the Gagosian Gallery, 555 West 24th Street,
New York, 11 September-20 October 2012.
Described by the artist as an installation, the exhibition is an example of the way
Phillips uses collaborative forms of image production to reorder the
relationship of Pop Art to its subjects, the staging and format of these lush,
large-scale works said to render them realist portraits of the place-holders of
their own mediated existence.
Portrait
of Theodore Roosevelt (1903) by Théobald
Chartran.Nobel Peace Prize laureate Theodore Roosevelt (1858–1919; US President
1901-1909), famous also for waging war and shooting wildlife, after being
impressed by Théobald Chartran’s (1849–1907) portrait of his wife, invited the
French artist to paint him too. He was
so displeased with the result, which he thought made him look effete, that he
refused to hang the work. Later, he would have it destroyed.
Portrait
of Theodore Roosevelt (1903) by John Singer Sargent.Roosevelt turned instead to
expatriate American artist John Singer Sargent (1856–1925). The relationship didn’t start well as the two
couldn’t agree on a setting and during one heated argument, the president
suddenly, hand on hip, took on a defiant air while making a point and Sargent had his
pose, imploring his subject not to move. This one delighted Roosevelt and was hung in the White House.
Portrait
of Winston Churchill (1954) by Graham Sutherland.Another subject turned disappointed critic was Sir Winston Churchill (1874–1965; UK Prime Minister
1940-1945 & 1951-1955). In 1954, a committee
funded by the donation of a thousand guineas from members of both houses of
parliament, commissioned English artist Graham Sutherland (1903–1980) to paint
a portrait of the prime minister to mark his eightieth birthday. The two apparently got on well during the sittings,
Churchill himself a prolific, if undistinguished, amateur painter and it’s said he enjoyed their discussions. He was
unimpressed though with the result, telling Sutherland that while he acknowledged his technical
prowess, he found the work “not suitable”.
To his doctor he was less restrained, calling it "filthy" and
"malignant".
Portrait of Laurence Olivier in the role of Richard III (1955) by Salvador Dalí.It had
been intended the painting would be hung in the House of Commons but Churchill
had no intention of letting it be seen by anyone. An unveiling ceremony had been arranged and
Churchill demanded it not include the painting, relenting only when a compromise
was arranged whereby both subject and artwork would appear together but rather
than being hung in the Commons, it would instead be gifted to him to hang where
he pleased. Both sides appeased if not
pleased, the ceremony proceeded, Churchill making a brief speech of thanks during
which he described his gift as “…a remarkable example of modern art..”, praise
not even faint. It was never hung, consigned
unwrapped to the basement of the prime minister’s country house where it
remained for about a year until Lady Churchill, sharing her husband’s view of
the thing, had her staff take it outside where it was burned, an act of
practical criticism Sutherland condemned as “vandalism”. Not anxious to repeat the experience of his brush with modernism,
Churchill declined the request of a sitting from Salvador Dalí (1904–1989),
the result of which might have been interesting.
Roosevelt’s pose is one favored by
politicians but the expression adopted matters too. The famous photograph taken in Ottawa in
December 1941 by Armenian-Canadian Yousuf Karsh (1908-2002) was actually one of
several but those where Churchill shows a more cheerful countenance are not remembered. They didn’t so well suit the times.
The scowl, although immediately regarded as emblematic
of British defiance of the Nazis, had a more prosaic origin, the photographer
recalling his subject had appeared benign until it was insisted the ever-present
Havana cigar be discarded lest it spoil the photograph. That changed the mood but, the moment
captured, he relented and permitted a couple more, including the now obscure
ones with a smile.
