Functionalism

Functionalism (pronounced fuhngk-shuh-nl-iz-uhm)

(1) An early twentieth century movement which advocated design in engineering, architecture, furniture and objects as pure fulfilments of material requirements, the aesthetic effect derived from proportions and finish with decorative effects being excluded or greatly subordinated.  Essentially, the theory that the form of a thing should be determined by its use.

(2) In psychology, a doctrine which emphasizes the adaptive flexibility in mental or behavioral processes.  Essentially, a system of thought based on the premise that all mental processes derive from their usefulness to the organism in adapting to the environment.

(3) In sociology (and styled usually as structural functionalism) a theoretical construct of societies as systems of interdependent parts whose functions contribute to the stability and survival of the system.  The analysis suggests things continue to exist because they perform some useful function.

(4) In anthropology (as biological functionalism), a utilitarian theory which maintains individual survival is the provocation of actions and the importance of social rigidity is negligible.

1914:  A compound word, function + al +‎ ism.  Function was from the Middle French function from the Old French fonction, from the Classical Latin functionem (accusative of functiō) (performance, execution) from functus (perfect participle of fungor) (I perform, I execute, I discharge).  The -al suffix was from the Middle English -al, from the Latin adjectival suffix -ālis, ((the third-declension two-termination suffix (neuter -āle) used to form adjectives of relationship from nouns or numerals) or the French, Middle French and Old French –el & -al.  It was use to denote the sense "of or pertaining to", an adjectival suffix appended (most often to nouns) originally most frequently to words of Latin origin, but since used variously and also was used to form nouns, especially of verbal action.  The alternative form in English remains -ual (-all being obsolete).  The origin remains uncertain but the Latin is thought likely formed from the Etruscan genitive suffix.  The –ism suffix was from the Ancient Greek ισμός (ismós) & -isma noun suffixes, often directly, sometimes through the Latin –ismus & isma (from where English picked up ize) and sometimes through the French –isme or the German –ismus, all ultimately from the Ancient Greek (where it tended more specifically to express a finished act or thing done).  It appeared in loanwords from Greek, where it was used to form abstract nouns of action, state, condition or doctrine from verbs and on this model, was used as a productive suffix in the formation of nouns denoting action or practice, state or condition, principles, doctrines, a usage or characteristic, devotion or adherence (criticism; barbarism; Darwinism; despotism; plagiarism; realism; witticism etc).  First used in 1914 in the social sciences, it entered use in architectural criticism in 1930.  Functionalism was also a briefly fashionable school of thought in international relations in the early inter-war years and in any context, it’s often used with an initial capital letter.

Functionalist architecture: Bauhaus School building, Dessau (1925-1926).

Sociology: Three of the the discipline's usual suspects

Emile Durkheim (1858–1917) was a French sociologist who developed the theory of functionalism from data he collected while exploring links between social integration and suicide; his findings suggesting social institutions should be understood in terms of the contribution their existence makes to society.   In a nod to Hobbes (and even Marx and Freud), Durkheim described man as homo duplex in which all have dual natures, one selfish, the other concerned with shared moral values.

US sociologist Talcott Parsons (1902-1979) was the dominant theorist in American sociology during the mid-twentieth century whose most important work was The Social System (1951) in which he describes the most elaborate model yet constructed of the ways institutions in society contribute to social order. He was influential but later attracted criticism for his work being too derivative of earlier German models of the two dichotomous sociological types, gemeinschaft & gesellschaft (community and society).

Robert Merton (1910–2003) was an American sociologist, who work saw phrases from academic sociology (such as “self-fulfilling prophecy”) enter popular use.  He suggested in different societies, institutions, however functional may tend to act with some autonomy so that a change in a particular institution may have little or no effect on others.  He noted also that despite the implications of Durkheim’s work, not all social systems necessarily perform a positive function and that some institutions like family or religion aren’t part of all human societies.  Merton claimed his method of analysis meant functionalism could no longer be perceived as ideological.

Structural Functionalism

Structural functionalism was a dominant school of thought in sociology for much of the twentieth century.  It built models of a symbiotic society where the framework was its institutions and its bonding energy the functions they fulfilled, viewing human interaction as producing a complex system of parts, each with a specific function which contributed to the stability and functioning of the whole.  Sometimes appearing unimportant if viewed in isolation, the component parts were understood as interdependence building blocks of social institutions, their function in the structure their role in maintaining social order and stability.  The structural functionalist model asserts every society has certain structures (divided classically into organizations, institutions & norms) which fulfil important functions ensuring the operation of society.  In the language of the discipline, the functions can be manifest (intended and recognized) or latent (unintended and often unrecognized), social stability maximized when these structures and functions are in balance.

In sociology, functionalism is where it's found and it's found by neo-Marxists, Mean Girls (2004) fans and others.

In the way of academia, the remarkably simple theoretical model of structural functionalism attracted very clever sociologists who published papers by the thousand adding layers of nuanced complexity, mapping onto the ever-growing literature models every imaginable social dynamic, some of which (notably power structures, race conflict, social change, feminism and sexual politics) exposed the limitations of the approach.  For that reason, it came to be much criticized, not because the theory’s theoretical framework was fundamentally wrong but because some some contradictions in specific interactions exposed flaws which meant it could never be a global “theory of everything”.  Long unfashionable, its core assumptions continue to underlie (and even underpin according to some) a number of modern orthodoxies in sociology.

1939 Mercedes-Benz T80, Mercedes-Benz Museum, Stuttgart, Germany.

When building machines to set the world's lands speed record (LSR), nothing matters except functionalism, everything else discarded as extraneous.  Designed by Ferdinand Porsche (1875–1951), the Mercedes-Benz T80 was built between 1937-1939 to lay siege to LSR but with the outbreak of World War II (1939-1945), the attempt was never made.  It was a single-purpose machine designed to achieve maximum terminal velocity and for that reason, the T80 was an exercise in pure functionalism; not one nut or bolt was used other than for the purpose of ensuring its top speed would be as high as possible.  Cognizant of the existing record, the initial goal was 550 km/h (342 mph) but as others in the late 1930s raised the mark, so were Professor Porsche’s ambitions and when the final specification was set in 1939, the target was 650 km/h (404 mph) (not 750 km/h (466 mph) as is sometimes quoted).  Configured with six wheels, the T80 would have used a supercharged, fuel-injected, 44.5 litre (2716 cubic inch) Daimler-Benz DB 603 inverted V12 aero-engine, an enlarged version of the DB 601 which powered a number of Messerschmitts and other warplanes.  Intended for use in bombers, the T80’s engine was actually the third DB 603 prototype and tuned initially to generate some 2237 kW (3000 horsepower) on an exotic cocktail of methyl alcohol (63%), benzene (16%), ethanol (12%), acetone (4.4%), nitrobenzene (2.2%), avgas (2%), and ether (0.4%) with MW (methanol-water) injection for charge cooling and as an anti-detonant.  This was more than twice the output of the Hurricanes, Spitfires and Messerschmitts which in 1940 fought the Battle of Britain but Porsche’s calculations suggested 2,574 kW (3,500 hp) would be needed to touch the 650 km/h target and the DB 603 would have been tweaked to achieve this as an EWR (emergency war rating, a concept of extracting maximum power at the expense of component longevity).

1939 Mercedes-Benz T80, Mercedes-Benz Museum, Stuttgart, Germany.

Some 8 metres (26 feet) in length with two of the three axles providing drive, the weight when fuelled and crewed was some 2600 kg (2.9 short tons) while the measured coefficient of drag (CD) was reported at 0.18, an impressive figure for such a thing as late as the 1990s and it would have been lower still, had wind-tunnel testing not revealed the need to add two small “winglets” to provide sufficient down-force to ensure the shape didn’t at speed assume the characteristics of an aeroplane and "try to take off"; notably, when in 1964 the Bluebird-Proteus CN7 ran on Australia's Lake Eyre salt flats, it was the first LSR machine to include “ground effect” technology to reduce lift.  Fundamentally, the aerodynamics are thought sound although there would be the usual vulnerability to cross-winds, the cause of several deaths in such attempts and the surface conditions of what was a temporarily closed public road would also have been critical; whether the tyre technology of the time would have been adequate under such conditions will never be known.  Had the T80 been run on the long, flat straights of the salt flats in the US or Australia, the prospects of success would have been better but for propaganda purposes (always a theme for the Nazis) the LSR runs had to be on German soil.

Bluebird-Proteus CN7, Lake Eyre, Australia, 1964.

The plan was for the attempt to be staged in January 1940 during what the regime dubbed RekordWoche (Record Week) on a section of the Berlin-Halle-Leipzig autobahn (now part of the A9), closed for the occasion.  The legend is that Adolf Hitler (1889-1945; Führer (leader) and German head of government 1933-1945 & head of state 1934-1945) himself choose the nickname Schwarzer Vogel (Black Bird) but that too may have been propaganda.  Hitler did though like romantic names so the story is least plausible.  He also had so little regard for titles he used them like cheap gifts and bribes, creating 26 field marshals during his rule including 7 after in February 1943 he'd declared he'd never appoint another.  That vow was prompted by his disappointment at Friedrich Paulus (1890–1957) declining to shoot himself and instead capitulating to the Red Army besieging Stalingrad.  Hitler had promoted Paulus the very day he surrendered and despite Hitler offering him this "one final satisfaction", he chose not to blow his brains out "for that Bohemian corporal" (a phrase attributed to Generalfeldmarschall Paul von Hindenburg (1847–1934; Reichspräsident (1925-1934) of Germany 1925-1934) who misunderstood the geography of Hitler's birthplace).  The Führer also appointed Ferdinand Porsche a professor although that was in recognition of his stellar work in the armaments industry rather than his equally impressive contributions to designing fast cars and anyway not too much should be made of it, Hitler conferring the academic honor even on his favorite photographer.  The design of the T80 was done in the era of slide rules and although some computer work has been applied to simulating the event, there’s no consensus on whether the thing really would have hit 650 km/h and set a new LSR.  As it was, it wasn't until August 1963 a turbojet-powered machine was clocked at 655.722 km/h (407.447) mph in a run on the Bonneville Salt Flats.  It was there in November 1965 a machine powered by four fuel injected Chrysler 426 cubic inch (7.0 litre) hemi V8s recorded a two-way average of 658.526 km/h (409.277 mph) and, in the class for wheel-driven vehicles, that mark stood for some 43 years.  In July 1964, it had been rain-affected surface conditions on the salt flats at Lake Eyre which had sabotaged the run by the gas turbine-powered Bluebird-Proteus CN7, limiting the speed to 648.73 km/h (403.10 mph).  Had the surface still been as hard and true as it had been when surveyed in 1962, the Bluebird would have a higher average over the measured distance because it was clocked at 710 km/h (440 mph) towards the end of a run.  The vehicle had a theoretical maximum speed of some 800 km/h (500 mph) but that was calculated in what was still the age of the slide rule and most experts now doubt that was attainable although something in excess of 450 mph (720 km/h) was plausible.  No wheel-driven car has ever come close to 500 mph.

Ultracrepidarian

Ultracrepidarian (pronounced uhl-truh-krep-i-dair-ee-uhn)

Of or pertaining to a person who criticizes, judges, or gives advice outside their area of expertise

1819: An English adaptation of the historic words sūtor, ne ultra crepidam, uttered by the Greek artist Apelles and reported by the Pliny the Elder.  Translating literally as “let the shoemaker venture no further” and sometimes cited as ne supra crepidam sūtor judicare, the translation something like “a cobbler should stick to shoes”.  From the Latin, ultra is beyond, sūtor is cobbler and crepidam is accusative singular of crepida (from the Ancient Greek κρηπίς (krēpís)) and means sandal or sole of a shoe.  Ultracrepidarian is a noun & verb and ultracrepidarianism is a noun; the noun plural is ultracrepidarians.  For humorous purposes, forms such as ultracrepidarist, ultracrepidarianish, ultracrepidarianize & ultracrepidarianesque have been coined; all are non-standard.

Ultracrepidarianism describes the tendency among some to offer opinions and advice on matters beyond their competence.  The word entered English in 1819 when used by English literary critic and self-described “good hater”, William Hazlitt (1778–1830), in an open letter to William Gifford (1756–1826), editor of the Quarterly Review, a letter described by one critic as “one of the finest works of invective in the language” although another suggested it was "one of his more moderate castigations" a hint that though now neglected, for students of especially waspish invective, he can be entertaining.  The odd quote from him would certainly lend a varnish of erudition to trolling.  Ultracrepidarian comes from a classical allusion, Pliny the Elder (circa 24-79) recording the habit of the famous Greek painter Apelles (a fourth century BC contemporary of Alexander the Great (Alexander III of Macedon, 356-323 BC)), to display his work in public view, then conceal himself close by to listen to the comments of those passing.  One day, a cobbler paused and picked fault with Apelles’ rendering of shoes and the artist immediately took his brushes and pallet and touched-up the sandal’s errant straps.  Encouraged, the amateur critic then let his eye wander above the ankle and suggested how the leg might be improved but this Apelles rejected, telling him to speak only of shoes and otherwise maintain a deferential silence.  Pliny hinted the artist's words of dismissal may not have been polite.

So critics should comment only on that about which they know.  The phrase in English is usually “cobbler, stick to your last” (a last a shoemaker’s pattern, ultimately from a Germanic root meaning “to follow a track'' hence footstep) and exists in many European languages: zapatero a tus zapatos is the Spanish, schoenmaker, blijf bij je leest the Dutch, skomager, bliv ved din læst the Danish and schuster, bleib bei deinen leisten, the German.  Pliny’s actual words were ne supra crepidam judicaret, (crepidam a sandal or the sole of a shoe), but the idea is conveyed is in several ways in Latin tags, such as Ne sutor ultra crepidam (sutor means “cobbler”, a word which survives in Scotland in the spelling souter).  The best-known version is the abbreviated tag ultra crepidam (beyond the sole), and it’s that which Hazlitt used to construct ultracrepidarian.  Crepidam is from the Ancient Greek κρηπίς (krēpís) and has no link with words like decrepit or crepitation (which are from the Classical Latin crepare (to creak, rattle, or make a noise)) or crepuscular (from the Latin word for twilight); crepidarian is an adjective rare perhaps to the point of extinction meaning “pertaining to a shoemaker”.

The related terms are "Nobel disease" & "Nobel syndrome" which are used to describe some of the opinions offered by Nobel laureates on subjects beyond their specialization.  In some cases this is "demand" rather than "supply" driven because, once a prize winner is added to a media outlet's "list of those who comment on X", they are sometimes asked questions about matters of which they know little.  This happens because some laureates in the three "hard" prizes (physics, chemistry, physiology or medicine) operate in esoteric corners of their discipline; asking a particle physicist something about plasma physics on the basis of their having won the physics prize may not elicit useful information.  Of course those who have won the economics or one of what are now the DEI (diversity, equity and inclusion) prizes (peace & literature) may be assumed to have helpful opinions on everything.

Jackson Pollock (1912-1956): Blue Poles

In 1973, when a million dollars was a still lot of money, the National Gallery of Australia, a little controversially, paid Aus$1.3 million for Jackson Pollock’s (1912-1956) Number 11, 1952, popularly known as Blue Poles since it was first exhibited in 1954, the new name reputedly chosen by the artist.  It was some years ago said to be valued at up to US$100 million but, given the increase in the money supply (among the rich who trade this stuff) over the last two decades odd, that estimate may now be conservative and some have suggested as much as US$400 million might be at least the ambit claim.

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

Blue Poles emerged during Pollock’s "drip period" (1947-1950), a method which involved techniques such throwing paint at a canvas spread across the floor.  The art industry liked these (often preferring the more evocative term "action painting") and they remain his most popular works, although at this point, he abandoned the dripping and moved to his “black porings phase” a darker, simpler style which didn’t attract the same commercial interest.  He later returned to more colorful ways but his madness and alcoholism worsened; he died in a drink-driving accident.

Alchemy (1947), Oil, aluminum, alkyd enamel paint with sand, pebbles, fibers, and broken wooden sticks on canvas.

Although the general public remained uninterested (except by the price tags) or sceptical, there were critics, always drawn to a “troubled genius”, who praised Pollock’s work and the industry approves of any artist who (1) had the decency to die young and (2) produced stuff which can sell for millions.  US historian of art, curator & author Helen A Harrison (b 1943; director (1990-2024) of the Pollock-Krasner House and Study Center, the former home and studio of the Abstract Expressionist artists Jackson Pollock and Lee Krasner in East Hampton, New York) is an admirer, noting the “pioneering drip technique…” which “…introduced the notion of action painting", where the canvas became the space with which the artist actively would engage”.  As a thumbnail sketch she offered:

Number 14: Gray (1948), Enamel over gesso on paper.

“Reminiscent of the Surrealist notions of the subconscious and automatic painting, Pollock's abstract works cemented his reputation as the most critically championed proponent of Abstract Expressionism. His visceral engagement with emotions, thoughts and other intangibles gives his abstract imagery extraordinary immediacy, while his skillful use of fluid pigment, applied with dance-like movements and sweeping gestures that seldom actually touched the surface, broke decisively with tradition. At first sight, Pollock's vigorous method appears to create chaotic labyrinths, but upon close inspection his strong rhythmic structures become evident, revealing a fascinating complexity and deeper significance.  Far from being calculated to shock, Pollock's liquid medium was crucial to his pictorial aims.  It proved the ideal vehicle for the mercurial content that he sought to communicate 'energy and motion made visible - memories arrested in space'.”

Number 13A: Arabesque (1948), Oil and enamel on canvas.

Critics either less visionary or more fastidious seemed often as appalled by Pollock’s violence of technique as they were by the finished work (or “products” as some labelled the drip paintings), questioning whether any artistic skill or vision even existed, one finding them “…mere unorganized explosions of random energy, and therefore meaningless.”  The detractors used the language of academic criticism but meant the same thing as the frequent phrase of an unimpressed public: “That’s not art, anyone could do that.”

Number 1, 1949 (1949), Enamel and metallic paint on canvas. 

There have been famous responses to that but Ms Harrison's was practical, offering people the opportunity to try.  To the view that “…people thought it was arbitrary, that anyone can fling paint around”, Ms Harrison conceded it was true anybody could “fling paint around” but that was her point, anybody could, but having flung, they wouldn’t “…necessarily come up with anything.”  In 2010, she released The Jackson Pollock Box, a kit which, in addition to an introductory text, included paint brushes, drip bottles and canvases so people could do their own flinging and compare the result against a Pollock.  After that, they may agree with collector Peggy Guggenheim (1898-1979) that Pollock was “...the greatest painter since Picasso” or remain unrepentant ultracrepidarians.  Of course, many who thought their own eye for art quite well-trained didn't agree with Ms Guggenheim.  In 1945, just after the war, Duff Cooper (1890–1954), then serving as Britain's ambassador to France, came across Pablo Picasso (1881–1973) leaving an exhibition of paintings by English children aged 5-10 and in his diary noted the great cubist saying he "had been much impressed".  "No wonder" added the ambassador, "the pictures are just as good as his".   

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

Dresses & drips: Three photographs by Cecil Beaton (1904-1980), shot for a three-page feature in Vogue (March 1951) titled American Fashion: The New Soft Look which juxtaposed Pollock’s paintings hung in New York’s Betty Parsons Gallery with the season’s haute couture by Irene (1872-1951) & Henri Bendel (1868-1936).

Beaton choose the combinations of fashion and painting and probably pairing Lavender Mist (1950, left) with a short black ball gown of silk paper taffeta with large pink bow at one shoulder and an asymmetrical hooped skirt by Bendel best illustrates the value of his trained eye.  Critics and social commentators have always liked these three pages, relishing the opportunity to comment on the interplay of so many of the clashing forces of modernity: the avant-garde and fashion, production and consumption, abstraction and representation, painting and photography, autonomy and decoration, masculinity and femininity, art and commerce.  Historians of art note it too because it was the abstract expressionism of the 1940s which was both uniquely an American movement and the one which in the post-war years saw the New York supplant Paris as the centre of Western art.  There have been interesting discussions about when last it could be said Western art had a "centre".

Eye of the beholder: Portrait of Lindsay Lohan in the style of Claude Monet at craiyon.com and available at US$26 on an organic cotton T-shirt made in a factory powered by renewable energy.

Whether the arguments about what deserves to be called “art” began among prehistoric “artists” and their critics in caves long ago isn’t known but it’s certainly a dispute with a long history.  In the sense it’s a subjective judgment the matter was doubtless often resolved by a potential buyer declining to purchase but during the twentieth century it became a contested topic and there were celebrated exhibits and squabbles which for decades played out before, in the post modern age, the final answer appeared to be something was art if variously (1) the creator said it was or (2) an art critic said it was or (3) it was in an art gallery or (4) the price tag was sufficiently impressive.

So what constitutes “art” is a construct of time, place & context which evolves, shaped by historical, cultural, social, economic, political & personal influences, factors which in recent years have had to be cognizant of the rise of cultural equivalency, the recognition that Western concepts such as the distinction between “high” (or “fine”) art and “folk” (or “popular”) art can’t be applied to work from other traditions where cultural objects are not classified by a graduated hierarchy.  In other words, everybody’s definition is equally valid.  That doesn’t mean there are no longer gatekeepers because the curators in institutions such as museums, galleries & academies all discriminate and thus play a significant role in deciding what gets exhibited, studied & promoted, even though few would now dare to suggest what is art and what is not: that would be cultural imperialism.

In the twentieth century it seemed to depend on artistic intent, something which transcended a traditional measure such as aesthetic value but as the graphic art in advertising and that with a political purpose such as agitprop became bigger, brighter and more intrusive, such forms also came to be regarded as art or at least worth of being studied or exhibited on the same basis, in the same spaces as oil on canvas portraits & landscapes.  Once though, an unfamiliar object in such places could shock as French painter & sculptor Marcel Duchamp (1887-1968) managed in 1917 when he submitted a porcelain urinal as his piece for an exhibition in New York, his rationale being “…everyday objects raised to the dignity of a work of art by the artist's act of choice.”  Even then it wasn’t a wholly original approach but the art establishment has never quite recovered and from that urinal to Dadaism, to soup cans to unmade beds, it became accepted that “anything goes” and people should be left to make of it what they will.  Probably the last remaining reliable guide to what really is "art" remains the price tag.

1948 Cisitalia 202 GT (left; 1947-1952) and 1962 Jaguar E-Type (1961-1974; right), Museum of Modern Art (MoMA), New York City.

Urinals tend not to be admired for their aesthetic qualities but there are those who find beauty in things as diverse as mathematical equations and battleships.  Certain cars have long been objects which can exert an emotional pull on those with a feeling for such things and if the lines are sufficiently pleasing, many flaws in engineering are often overlooked.  New York’s Museum of Modern Art (MoMA) acknowledged in 1972 that such creations can be treated as works of art when they added a 1948 Cisitalia 202 GT finished in “Cisitalia Red” (MoMA object number 409.1972) to their collection, the press release noting it was “…the first time that an art museum in the U.S. put a car into its collection.”  Others appeared from time-to-time and while the 1953 Willys-Overland Jeep M-38A1 Utility Truck (MoMA object number 261.2002) perhaps is not conventionally beautiful, its brutish functionalism has a certain simplicity of form and in the exhibition notes MoMA clarified somewhat by describing it as a “rolling sculpture”, presumably in the spirit of a urinal being a “static sculpture”, both to be admired as pieces of design perfectly suited to their intended purpose, something of an art in itself.  Of the 1962 Jaguar E-Type (XKE) open two seater (OTS, better known as a roadster and acquired as MoMA object number 113.996), there was no need to explain because it’s one of the most seductive shapes ever rendered in metal.  Enzo Ferrari (1898-1988) attended the 1961 Geneva Motor Show (now defunct) when the Jaguar staged its stunning debut and part of E-Type folklore is he called it “the most beautiful car in the world”.  Whether those words ever passed his lips isn’t certain because the sources vary slightly in detail and il Commendatore apparently never confirmed or denied the sentiment but it’s easy to believe and many to this day agree just looking at the thing can be a visceral experience.  The MoMA car is finished in "Opalescent Dark Blue" with a grey interior and blue soft-top; there are those who think the exhibit would be improved if it was in BRG (British Racing Green) over tan leather but anyone who finds a bad line on a Series 1 E-Type OTS is truly an ultracrepidarian.   

Basketweave

Basketweave (pronounced bah-skit-weev (U) or bas-kit-weev (non-U))

(1) A plain woven pattern with two or more groups of warp and weft threads are interlaced to render a checkerboard appearance resembling that of a woven basket; historically applied especially (in garment & fabric production) to wool & linen items and (in furniture, flooring etc), fibres such as cane, bamboo etc.

(2) Any constructed item assembled in this pattern.

(4) In the natural environment, any structure (animal, vegetable or mineral) in this pattern.

(5) In automotive use, a stylized wheel, constructed usually in an alloy predominately of aluminum and designed loosely in emulation of the older spoked (wire) wheels.

1920–1925: The construct was basket + weave (and used variously as basketweave, basket-weave & basket weave depending on industry, product, material etc).  Basket was from the thirteenth century Middle English basket (vessel made of thin strips of wood, or other flexible materials, interwoven in a great variety of forms, and used for many purposes), from the Anglo-Norman bascat, of obscure origin.  Bascat has attracted much interest from etymologists but despite generations of research, its source has remained elusive.  One theory is it’s from the Late Latin bascauda (kettle, table-vessel), from the Proto-Brythonic (in Breton baskodenn), from the Proto-Celtic baskis (bundle, load), from the primitive Indo-European bhask- (bundle) and presumably related to the Latin fascis (bundle, faggot, package, load) and a doublet of fasces.  In ancient Rome, the bundle was a material symbol of a Roman magistrate's full civil and military power, known as imperium and it was adopted as the symbol of National Fascist Party in Italy; it’s thus the source of the term “fascism”.  Not all are convinced, the authoritative Oxford English Dictionary (OED) noting there is no evidence of such a word in Celtic unless later words in Irish and Welsh (sometimes counted as borrowings from English) are original.  However, if the theory is accepted, the implication is the original meaning was something like “wicker basket”, wicker one of the oldest known methods of construction.  The word was first used to mean “a goal in the game of basketball” in 1892, the use extended to “a score in basketball” by 1898.  In the 1980s, as operating systems evolved, programmers would have had the choice of “basket” or “bucket” to describe the concept of a “place where files are stored or reference prior to processing” and they choose the latter, thus creating the “download bucket”, “handler bucket” etc.  On what basis the choice was made isn’t known but it may be that baskets, being often woven, are prone to leak while non-porous buckets are not.  Programmers hate leaks.  Basketweave, basketweaver & basketweaving are nouns; the noun plural is basketweaves.  The adjectives basketweavelike, basketweaveish & basketweavesque and the verbs basketweaving and basketweaved (the verbs of politicians being evasive) are all non-standard.

A classic basketweave pattern.

Weave was from the Middle English weven (to weave), from the Old English wefan (to weave), from the Proto-West Germanic weban, from the Proto-Germanic webaną, from the primitive Indo-European webh (to weave, braid).  The sense of weave as “to wander around; not travel in a straight line” was also in the early fourteenth century absorbed by the Middle English weven and was probably from the Old Norse veifa (move around, wave), related to the Latin vibrare, from vibrō (to vibrate, to rattle, to twang; to deliver or deal (a blow)), from the  Proto-Italic wibrāō, denominative of wibros, from the primitive Indo-European weyp- (to oscillate, swing) or weyb-.  The root-final consonant has never been clear and reflexes of both are found across Indo-European languages.  The verb sense of “something woven” dates from the 1580s while the meaning “method or pattern of weaving” was from 1888.  The notion of “to move from one place to another” has been traced to the twelfth century and was presumably derived from the movements involved in the act of weaving and while it’s uncertain quite how the meaning evolved, it’s documented from early fourteenth century as conveying “move to and fro” and in the 1590s as “move side to side”,  In pugilism it would have been a natural technique from the moment the first punch was thrown but formally it entered the language of boxing (as “duck & weave”) in 1918, often as weaved or weaving.  By analogy, the phrase “duck & weave” came to be used of politicians attempting to avoid answering questions (crooked Hillary Clinton (b 1947; US secretary of state 2009-2013 an exemplar case-study).  In the military, weave was also used to describe evasive maneuvers undertaken on land or in the air but not at sea, the Admiralty preferring zig-zag, as the pattern would appear on charts.  The fencing method known as teenage (and as the New Yorker insists, not "teen-age") is a kind of basketweave.  Basketweave is a noun & adjective and (in irregular use) a verb and basketweaver is a noun; the noun plural is basketweaves.

Attentive basketweavers: Students in a lecture  (B.A. (Peace Studies)) at Whitworth University, Spokane, Washington, USA.

A basketweaver is of course “one who weaves baskets” but in idiomatic use, basketweaver is used also to mean “one whose skills have been rendered redundant by automation or other changes in technology”.  The term “underwater basketweaving” is used of university course thought useless (in the sense of not being directly applicable to anything vocational) and is applied especially to the “studies” genre (gender studies, peace studies, women’s studies etc).  Beyond education, it can be used of anything thought “lame, pointless, useless, worthless, a waste of time etc”.  Basketweaving is also a descriptor of a long and interlinked narrative of lies, distinguished from an ad-hoc lie in that in a basketweave of lies, there are dependencies between the untruths and, done with sufficient care, each can act to reinforce another, enabling an entire persona to be constructed.  It’s the most elaborate version of a “basket of lies” and can work but, like a woven basket, if one strand becomes lose and separates from the structure, under stress, the entire basket can unravel, spilling asunder the contents.

Highly qualified porn star Busty Buffy (b 1996) perched on basketweave chair.

The term “basketweave chair” (or other furniture types) refers not to a certain material or fabric used in the construction but instead describes the woven or interlaced design, most often using wicker, rattan or synthetic fibres, creating a “basket-like” pattern on the seat, sides or back.  Widely used (and long a favourite in the tropics or other hot places because the open-construction aided cooling by permitting air-flow), the designs range from purely decorative accent pieces to functional furniture.  However, because specific load-bearing capacity of basketweaves tended (for a given surface area) to be less than more solid implementations of the same shape, basketweaves often were used as decorative side-panels which were not subject to stress and this was a notable motif in the art deco era.  Whatever the material, the defining characteristic was the interlaced or woven pattern and the choice of material tended to be dictated by (1) price, (2) regional availability, (3) strength required and (4) desired appearance.  Rattan was known for its strength & flexibility but the term “wicker” (a general term for woven plant stems) was often used interchangeably (and sometimes misleadingly) while synthetic wickers entered mass-production in the 1950s, offering durability and increased weather-resistance but, although mimicking the look of natural fibres, remained (on close examination), obviously “a plastic”  One trend for outdoor furniture has been to use strands of aluminium, a strong, lightweight metal which doesn’t rust but can be subject to corrosion.

1960 Rolls-Royce Phantom V Sedanca de Ville by James Young (left), 1930s art deco lounge chair with rattan side panels (centre), 1965 Rolls-Royce Phantom V Seven Passenger Limousine with Sedanca de Ville coachwork by James Young= (right).

Wicker was a common sight on early automobiles because the rearward protrusion which evolved ultimately to become the “trunk” (dubbed “boot” by the English (and thus the use in most of the old British Empire) because of a different tradition) began life as literally a luggage trunk (often of wicker) which was strapped or in some way secured to the vehicle’s back.  This was an unmodified adaptation of the practice from the days of horse-drawn carriages when trunks would be carried on the back, on the roof or wherever they could be made to fit.  That was pure functionalism but cane-work had often been used as a decorative element on coaches, especially the ones commissioned by the rich for their personal use and these owners were sometimes nostalgic, thus for years the frequent appearance of cane basketweave (both real and painted) patterned panels on the sides of cars.  As the older generation died off, the trend faded but during the inter-war years it lingered, becoming one of those markers of exclusivity, transmitting to all and sundry one had something bespoke and there were coach-builders still adding the stuff as late as the 1960s, a last link with the old horse-drawn broughams.  It was expensive and therefore rare (anattraction for the tiny number of customers) because the process used a specially thickened paint which was hand-applied in a very narrow crosshatch pattern on a body panel laid flat.  Essentially, a coach-builder’s version of hand-stitched lace, it was a tedious, labor-intensive activity able to be accomplished only by a handful of increasingly aged craftsmen, demand so low in the post-war years there was little incentive to train young replacements.  It’s now often called “hand-painted faux cane-work” but James Young listed the option as “decorative sham cane”.  Now of course the look immaculately could be emulated with the use of 3D printing but it’s doubtful there'll be much demand.

Official portrait of Representative the honorable George Santos.

A classic basketweaver is George Anthony Devolder Santos (b 1988) who, in the 2022 mid-term elections for the US Congress, was elected as a representative (Republican) for New York's 3rd congressional district.  Although he seems to have passed untroubled through the Republican Party’s candidate vetting process, after his election a number of media outlets investigated and found his public persona was almost wholly untrue and contained many dubious or blatantly false claims about, inter-alia, his mother, personal biography, education, criminal record, work history, financial status, ancestry, ethnicity, sexual orientation & religion.  When confronted, Mr Santos did admit to lying about certain matters, was vague about some and ducked and weaved to avoid discussing others, especially the fraud charges in Brazil he avoided by fleeing the country.  Although a life-long Roman Catholic, Mr Santos on a number of occasions claimed to be Jewish, even fabricating stories about his family suffering losses during the Holocaust.  Later, after the lies were exposed, he told a newspaper “I never claimed to be Jewish.  I am Catholic. Because I learned my maternal family had a Jewish background I said I was ‘Jew-ish.”  In the right circumstances, delivered on-stage by a Jewish comedian, it might have been a good punch-line.

Few are laughing however and Mr Santos is under investigation by both Brazilian and US authorities.  However, despite many calls (from Republicans and Democrats alike) that he resign from Congress, Mr Santos has refused and the Republican house leadership, working with an unexpectedly paper-thin majority, has shown no enthusiasm to pursue the matter.  What Mr Santos has done is expose the limitations of the basketweaving technique.  While a carefully built construct can work, it relies on no loose threads being exposed and while this can be manageable for those not public figures, for anyone exposed to investigation, in the twenty-first century such deceptions are probably close to impossible to achieve and Mr Santos was probably lured into excessive self-confidence because, in relative anonymity, he had for years managed to deceive, fooling many including the Republican Party and perhaps even himself.  In retrospect, he might one day ponder how he ever thought he’d get away with it.  One thing that remains unclear is how he should be addressed.  Members of the House of Representatives typically are addressed as "the honorable" in formal use but this is merely a courtesy title and is not a requirement.  The use is left to individual members and as far as is known, Mr Santos has not yet indicated whether he wishes people to address him as “the honorable George Santos”.

Of wheels

Borrani wire wheels on 1972 Ferrari 365 GTB/4 (Daytona) coupé (far left), ROH “Hotwire” wheels on 1974 Holden Torana SL/R 5000 (with after-market flares emulating those used on the L34 (1974) and A9X models (1977-1978)), centre left), “Basketweave” wheels on 1990 Jaguar XJS coupé (centre right) & 1986 Holden Piazza (a badge-engineered Isuzu Piazza (1981-1993) which failed to find success in Australia because the on-road dynamics didn't match the high price and attractive lines).

Basketweave wheels remain popular (although some feelings may become strained when it comes time to clean the things) but visually, the use of “basketweave” to describe the construction was sometimes a bit of a stretch and often “lattice” was is preferred which seems architecturally closer.  Were the motif of the classic basketweave to be applied to a wheel it would look something those used on the Holden Piazza, briefly (1986-1989) available on the Australian market.  Because it’s not easy successfully to integrate something inherently square or rectangular into a small, circular object, such designs never caught on although variations were tried.  The “basketweave” wheels which did endure owed little to the classic patterns used in fashion, furniture & architecture although there are identifiable hints in the construction so people understand the connection and rather than thought of as a continuation of the design elements drawn from the traditions of weaving, the wheels really established a fork of the meaning.  As a design, they were an evolution of the “hotwire” style popular in the 1970s when was a deliberate attempt to echo the style of the classic spoked (wire) wheels which, being lighter and offering better brake cooling properties than steel disk wheels, were for decades the wheel of choice for high performance vehicles.  That changed in the 1960s as speeds & vehicle weight rose and tyres became wider and stickier, a combination of factors which meant wire wheels were no longer strong enough to endure the rising stresses.  Additionally, the wire wheel was labor intensive to make in an era when that beginning to matter, wheels cast from an alloy predominately of aluminum were cheaper to produce as well as stronger.

Pink & polka-dot combo by by Amiparism: Lindsay Lohan, in Ami three button jacket and flare-fit trousers in wool gabardine with Ami small Deja-Vu bag, Interview Magazine, November 2022.  Jaguar first fitted the basketweave (or lattice and some Jaguar owners call them "starflake") wheels in 1984. 

The car is a Jaguar XJS (1975-1996 and labeled XJ-S until mid-1991) convertible.  Upon debut, the XJ-S was much criticized by those who regarded as a "replacement" for the slinky E-Type (although, belying appearances, the XJ-S was more aerodynamically efficient), but Jaguar had never thought of it like that, taking the view motoring conditions and the legislative environment had since 1961 changed so much the days of the classic roadsters were probably done except for a few low volume specialists.  In truth, in its final years, the E-Type was no longer quite the sensuous shape which had wowed the crowed at the 1961 Geneva Salon but most critics though it still a more accomplished design.  In the West, the 1970s were anyway a troubled and the XJ-S's notoriously thirsty 5.3 litre (326 cubic inch) V12 wasn't fashionable, especially after the second oil shock in 1979 and the factory for some months in 1981 ceased production, a stay of execution granted only when tests confirmed the re-designed cylinder head (with "swirl combustion chambers") delivered radically lower fuel consumption.  That, some attention to build quality (which would remain a work-in-progress for the rest of the model's life) and improving economies of both sides of the Atlantic meant the machine survived (indeed often flourished) for a remarkable 21 years, the last not leaving the factory until 1996.

Jaguar didn't offer full convertible coachwork until 1988 but under contract, between 1986-1988, Ohio-based coachbuilders Hess & Eisenhardt converted some 2000 coupés.  Unlike many out-sourced conversions, the Hess & Eisenhardt cars were in some ways more accomplished than the factory's own effort, the top folding completely into the body structure (al la the Mercedes-Benz R107 (1971-1989) or the Triumph Stag (1969-1977)).  However, to achieve that, the single fuel tank had to replaced by a pair, this necessitating duplicated plumbing and pumps, something which proved occasionally troublesome; there were reports of fires but whether these are an internet myth isn't clear and tale Jaguar arranged buy-backs so they might be consigned to the crusher is fake news.  The one with which Ms Lohan was photographed in Miami was manufactured by Jaguar, identifiable by the ,ore visible bulk of the soft-top's folding apparatus.

Variations on a theme: 1988 Porsche 911 (930 with 3.3 litre Flat-6) Turbo Cabriolet (left) and Hans Stuck (1900–1978) in Auto Union Type C (6.0 litre V16), Shelsley Walsh hill climb, Worcestershire, England, June 1936 (right).

The Porsche is fitted with three-piece, 15 inch BBS RS basketweave wheels with satin lips: The rear units are 11 inches in width (running 345/35 tyres) while at the front the wheels are 9 inches wide (mounted with 225/50 tyres).  Although advances in electronics have since the early 1990s made the behaviour of the most powerful rear-engined Porsches easier to tame, in 1988, the best way to ameliorate the inherent idiosyncrasies of the configuration was to fit wider wheels, increasing the rubber’s contact area with the road.  The idea was not new, both the straight-eight Mercedes-Benz W125 and the V16 Type C Auto-Union Grand Prix cars of 1937 using twin rear tyres when run in hill climbs.  The Porsche 930 (1975-1989) quickly gained the nickname “widow maker” but the Auto Union, which combined 520 horsepower and a notable rearward weight bias with tyres narrower than are these days used on delivery vans, deserved the moniker more.  Fitting the second set of rear wheels did help but the handling characteristics could never be made wholly benign and it wasn’t until the late 1950s that mid-engined Grand Prix cars became manageable and notably, they had about half the power of the German machines of the 1930s.