Orphism

Orphism (pronounced awr-fiz-uhm)

(1) The religious or philosophical system of the Orphic school, a religion of Ancient Greece, widespread from the sixth century BC onwards, a blend of pre-Hellenic beliefs, the Thracian cult of Dionysius Zagreus et al.  The name was derived from the movement supposedly being founded by the mythological prophet Orpheus.

(2) In fine art, a movement of the early twentieth century most associated with French artist of the Parisian school Robert Delaunay (1885–1941) although it was his wife Sonia Delaunay (1885–1979) who produced work in the greater volume.  The movement is also known as orphic cubism and while not pure abstraction, it differed from Cubism in removing the need to maintain a representational relationship with the subject, the works rather imaginings of a viewer’s imagination.

Early 1800s: The construct was Orph(eus) (from the Greek root Ὀρφεύς) + -ism.  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).  The term Orphism emerged (with others) in the language of those classical scholars and historians who in the early nineteenth century were categorizing and analyzing various aspects of the less documented movements, religions and schools of thought from Antiquity, especially the Greek, the Roman material having earlier been better studied.  In the historic texts from Antiquity and later, the myths, rituals, and writings attributed to Orpheus or the associated the associated religious practices are discussed or described without the use a single encompassing term.

Homage to Blériot (1914), oil on canvas by Robert Delaunay.

The use to describe the fork of cubism (a description which offends some) was in 1912 co-opted (as orphisme) by French poet Guillaume Apollinaire (1880-1918) (who five years later would also coin “surrealism”), the construct being Orpheus +‎ -ism.  The adjective Orphic (of or related to Orpheus or the doctrines attributed to him) dates from the 1670s, from a Latinized form of the Greek orphikos (pertaining to Orpheus).  The earlier adjective was Orphean, in use at least by the 1590s.  Orphism & orphist are nouns, orphic is a noun & adjective; the noun plural is orphics.  When used of the religion or the art movement as a proper noun, an initial capital should be used (although the practice seem to be to use lower case in the case of the latter).

Singer Flamenco (1916), oil on canvas by Sonia Delaunay.

In Greek mythology, Orpheus was the son of Oeager and his mother was usually asid to be the Muse Calliope although in some tales it was Polhymnia or Menippe, daughter of Thamyris.  This was how things were in the days before copyright.  What is a constant in the myths is that Orpheus was of Thracian origin and lived in a region bordering Olympus.  The most famous tale of Orpheus is of his love for his wife, the nymph Eurydice, struck dead when she stepped on the serpent which bit her.  Heartbroken, Orpheus descended to the underworld to beg the gods to restore her to life.  Playing the lyre (for which he was credited with adding two strings to match the nine Muses), he so charmed the monsters of Hades they agreed to restore her to Earth but imposed one condition: Orpheus must walk back to the light with Eurydice following and must not look back until they had left the underworld.  The pair had almost reached to gates to Earth when a terrible doubt struck Orpheus and he had to turn to make sure Eurydice was there.  As soon as she fell into his glance, she died.  Orpheus tried to return to again rescue her but his entry was barred.  Inconsolable, he lived again in the human world but was killed by the women of Thrace who resented his fidelity to Eurydice, her precious memory more to him than the flesh & blood of their earthly charms.  The alternative history is darker.  Whatever happened in the underworld, after returning, Orpheus invented pederasty and his lover was Calais, the son of Boreas.  According to this tale, young men would meet at Orpheus’s house, leaving their weapons outside where they were taken by women angered at being neglected; together they took their revenge by killing an decapitating Orpheus, his head and lyre cast into the ocean.  They drifted to the shores of Lesbos where the women accorded the remains funerary honors, accounting for why the island produces so many fine lyric poets.

Lindsay Lohan imagined with an orphic influence.

Despite this perhaps unpromising history, it was Orpheus who lent his name to the religious movement and school of philosophy.  So many of the details are lost to history that often it’s described as a “mysterious cult” but it was long-lasting and is regarded as the last truly Greek religion although modern scholars don’t doubt the foreign influences in its origin.  It was the tales of Orpheus using music to seduce the gods of the underworld that the critic and poet Guillaume Apollinaire recalled when in 19123 he first came upon Robert Delaunay’s canvases of swirling, colorful shapes, recalling in technique the works of the cubists yet unlike them, in mostly non-representational form.  The Orphists of Antiquity had believed it had been the art of music which had opened up one otherwise-inaccessible underworld and Apollinaire co-opted the name to describe the process (that does seem to be drawing a long bow) by which modern artists were borrowed elements from music and science to inject powerful sensation into painting.  One can argue with aspects of that but doubtlessly there was a contribution to the evolution of abstract art.

La Tour Eiffel (1911), oil on canvas by Robert Delaunay.

Orphic art is distinctive even now and must at the time have been striking, characterized by shapes rendered in color, often in spheres and other geometric forms, curves especially prominent.  Compositionally, the technique was to assemble these shapes in a way to encourage a viewer to sense a vibrating, lyrical harmony and Apollinaire regarded the pieces as essentially musical although he claimed their power was such they transcended any single art form.  The critic in him was also a structuralist who anticipated later writing by stating Orphism “pure art” that had no need for any semblance of identifiable imagery; it was instead, “the pictorializing of light.”  Those last pre-war years were certainly a time of ferment in art and for more than a decade the cubists had been re-imagining and re-packaging space and perception.  Orphism might not be a fork of Cubism but the influence seem undeniable, the schools sharing the same interest in breaking down solid objects and challenging the traditional conceptions of space, volume, angle and even time.  What was most novel about orphism was the intrusion of those vivid, colors which could jar or sooth: color as a language of lyricism.

Rythme-couleur 1076 (1939), oil on canvas by Sonia Delaunay.

Delaunay genuinely was interested in the actual process of vision. While the point of Cubism was what people saw and what they thought about it, he focused on how the eye sees and what the brain does with the information to turn it into movement or music; his interest was the optical structure of vision and he never forgot the eye was an out-growth of the brain.  After all, once imagery is deconstructed, there is only color and light passing to the brain through the retina and from this information comes the instinctive or learned constructs of shape, texture, depth & time; something four dimensional from a two dimensional object.  That can of course be a quality of any painting but what Orphism attempted to do was add the fifth dimension of lyricism.  Sonia Delaunay outlived her husband by many decades and lived to see the influences of orphism incorporated into the orthodoxy of design, fashion and commercial art of all types, fields in which she would practice almost to her last days.  In that sense it was a success although that very absorption led some of the sterner (and usually more conservative) critics to claim it was a cul-de-sac, melting away to invisibility whereas movements like Cubism, Surrealism and even pop-art left motifs which endure to this day.  That seems a harsh and particularly reductive reductionism but it is possible to write a convincing history of twentieth century art without mentioning Orphism, whereas to ignore other movements which in their time created the same sort of stir would leave obvious gaps.  Perhaps it was a victim of the forces of its era and like vorticism, after World War I (1914-1918), it wasn’t what people wanted to see.

Harlequin

Harlequin (pronounced hahr-luh-kwin or hahr-luh-kin)

(1) A stock comic character, depicted usually wearing a black mask and dressed in multicolored, diamond-patterned tights, often with a wooden sword or magic wand (often with initial capital)

(2) In theater, the most famous of the zanni (the comic servant characters) from the Italian commedia dell'arte (from the Italian Arlecchino or one of its many variants (Arlechin, Arlechì et al) which was associated with the city of Bergamo.  In English the character is best known as the foppish lover of Columbine in the English harlequinade.  The original spelling in Italian was Harlicken.

(3) A jester; a buffoon or oaf-like character; the pantomime fool.

(4) Any of various small snakes having bright diamond-pattern scales.

(5) Anything fancifully varied in color, decoration etc and in commerce sometimes of a specific product (such as harlequin ice-cream) and the eighteenth century English adjective particoloured is a reference to the absurdity of a Harlequin’s costume.

(6) Of a greenish-chartreuse color (a specialized use in certain industries and used sometimes both as harlequin-green & harlequin-yellow).

(7) A clipping of “harlequin's mask”.

(8) In writing, something comic, ludicrous or absurd.

(9) In geology, a classification of opal,

(10) In fashion, the use of multi-color combinations in other than an obviously discernible pattern.

(11) In medicine, as harlequin-type ichthyosis, (also clipped as harlequin ichthyosis), a severe genetic disorder that results in thickened skin over nearly the entire body at birth (“harlequin baby” & “harlequin foetus” the historic medical slang although use of both is now often discouraged.

(12) In zoology (as a modifier in the names of certain animals) having a white or light-hued coat with irregular patches of black or other dark colors including various snakes, ducks (used informally), a bat, a moth, a species of darter fish, the mantis shrimp, some insects & beetles and any of various riodinid butterflies of the genera Taxila and Praetaxila.

(13) To remove or conjure away, as if by a harlequin's trick; to perform antics or play ludicrous tricks.

1580–1590: From the French harlequin, from the Middle French arlequin & harlequin, semantically (and in part phonetically), from the Italian arlecchino, from the Middle French, phonetically continuing unattested the Old French mesniee Herlequin (more often appearing as la maisnie Hellequin (the household of Hellequin) although the spellings Harlequin, Halequin, Herlequin, Hierlekin & Hellekin also appear) (a malevolent spirit; leader of band of demon horsemen who rode at night (literally “Hellequin's escort”)), perhaps from the Middle English Herle (the (unattested) King Herle, a figure of legend identified with Woden), from the Old English Herla Cyning (or Herela Cyning; Helle cyn) (King Herle), rendered in the Anglo-Latin as Herla rex and related to the Middle English Hurlewain (a mischievous sprite or goblin).  Although it’s uncertain, etymologists think it likely the Old English forms were related to the Old Frisian helle kin and the Old Norse heljar kyn (the kindred of Hell).  One quirk noted in the theatrical history is the earliest known depictions of Harlequin are of a crass and bumbling servant rather than the amusing and magical hero familiar in the nineteenth century which would imply the accepted story of the origin being with the world of demonic horsemen and dark spirits might be suspect.  The other curiosity is the earliest known reference in a French text but it lists him among Italian characters, so the Italian origin remains probable.  .  Because of its origin in the name of an Italian theatrical character, Harlequin is often used as a proper noun (although the appearance of the initial capital is often incorrect).  Harlequin is a noun & adjective, harlequinade, harlequinery & harlequinism are nouns, harlequining & harlequined are verbs and harlequinesque & harlequin-like are adjectives; the noun plural is harlequins.

The logo and home-kit colors of Harlequin Football Club (1866).  A rugby union club and usually referred to as “Harlequins”, they're based at the Twickenham Stoop in south-west London.

The Germanic links includes the Old High German Herilo (a personal name, derivative of heri (armed forces) and the ultimate source of the Modern German Herres (Army), thus the World War II (1939-1945) institution OKH (Oberkommando des Heeres; the army high command), the companion structures being OKL (Oberkommando der Luftwaffe: the air force high command) & OKM (Oberkommando der Marine: the navy high command), all three structurally subordinate to OKW (Oberkommando der Wehrmacht: the armed forces high command).  To the Allies that was a familiar military structure and it was only after the war it came to be understood how little coordination was imposed by OKW.

Clockwise from main image: Arlecchino, Arlequine, Arlequin & Colombine.  Commedia dell'arte costumes from Maurice Sand's Masques et Bouffons (Masks & Jesters), Paris 1860.

The English comic theatrical genre harlequinade evolved between the seventeen & nineteenth centuries and was a form in which clowns (not all of them in traditional harlequin garb) were the principal protagonists & antagonists.  Originally a physical form of comedy very much in the tradition of the Italian commedia dell'arte in which there were five main characters, the most celebrated of which were Harlequin and his lover Columbine, it evolved from a mime performance with music and a form of dance which, although choreographed, was designed to appear to the audience as unstructured and sometimes chaotic.  Dialogue was introduced as the appeal began to wane but the focus was always on the colorful visual spectacle, usually as relatively brief, intense performances being staged as a prelude to longer musicals, operas or even ballet.  In English theatre, the popularity of harlequinade endured until World War I (1914-1918), historians of theatre noting its successful adaptation to changing conditions in what was becoming a more crowded environment by incorporating increasingly elaborate stage effects.  The advent of cinema in the 1920s was the death knell for harlequinade which, labor-intensive and demanding a large inventory of props and equipment, had become an expensive production although the legacy lingers in the some aspects of the Christmas pantomimes which in the UK remain popular annual events.  The words pantomime entered English in the sixteenth or seventeenth century and was from the Latin pantomīmus, from the Ancient Greek παντόμιμος (pantómimos), the construct being πᾶς (pâs), (each, all) + μιμέομαι (miméomai) (I mimic), thus analyzed as “all on stage miming”, the name persisting as a generic description even after dialogue had been introduced to the performances.

1960s Volkswagen advertizing in the US: inverted snobbery.

In a brief era of unprecedented and not since repeated general affluence, Volkswagen in 1960s America wasn’t able to compete with the domestic manufacturers with advertizing emphasizing the qualities they liked to project: power, speed, style and in some cases, sheer size.  Instead they used a technique the industry called “inverted snobbery” which wasn’t new but the Volkswagen advertizing of the time is thought still a classic example of the type.  Knowing the Beetle had a reputation for being slow, small and anything by stylish, the campaign took those perceptions and presented them as virtues, with wry humor emphasizing practicality and economy of operation.

1960s Volkswagen advertising in the US, the first VW “Harlequin” (the term not then used).

Also, at a time when Detroit made annual changes, often with no purpose other than to ensure the new cars in the showrooms looked different for last year’s model so status-conscious buyers would be stimulated to update, Volkswagen made a point of the Beetle looking much the same from season-to-season, one from 1954 barely distinguishable from the 1964 model.  For a number of reasons, the company choose usually to run the copy in black & white but there was one which really had to be in color: it featured a Beetle assembled with various panels from models made over five years, each in a different color, the harlequinesque effect said to have been achieved with physical paint on metal rather than air-brushing a photograph (doubts have be cast).  As well as the subliminal messaging about timelessness, there was the practical aspect of parts interchangeability which, so it was asserted, made spare parts more readily available, something which should presumably was intended to work in unison with the advertisement suggesting the most likely need for those parts would be if one let one’s wife drive.  That one might not be published today.

Der Polo Harlekin: Home market propaganda, 1995.

Whether carefully bolted together or just an air-brushed photograph, the harlequinesque Beetle might have remained a footnote in the annals of advertising had not something apparently unrelated appeared in the 1990s.  It’s all a bit murky but it’s clear that somewhere within Volkswagen (the tales vary), as an allusion to the soon to be announced “block construction” concept (green=paintwork; blue=engines & chassis; yellow=interior; red=special equipment), ten of the new VW Polos were built using panels of four different colors (Chagallblau (Chagall Blue, LD5D), Flashrot (Flash Red, LP3G), Ginstergelb (Ginster Yellow, L132) & Pistazie-grün (Pistachio Green, LD6D) for use as promotional vehicles.  A popular attraction after first appearing at the Frankfurt Motor Show, the much photographed cars generated so much publicity a further ten were built the following year to meet the demand from dealers who wanted one to display in their showrooms.  Selfies weren’t then a thing but many turned up to be snapped by a camera wielding companion and, most unexpectedly, dealers were reporting customers actually wanting to buy one.

Polo Harlekin color chart.

Despite this, Volkswagen’s corporate management wasn’t convinced there would be sufficient demand to make a production run viable but the inquiries from the public continued so a market study was conducted which confirmed the cult was real and it was announced that if 1000 were ordered, 1000 would be produced.  As a novelty, there were also 1000 key-chains with numbered certificates and this was to rationalize the production process because the buyers couldn’t choose the base color (ie the welded components: the color of the chassis, identified by roof, C-pillars, rocker panels & what lay beneath the plastic moldings, carpets and engine bay which was of some legal significance because it was the colored associated with ownership title and VIN (Vehicle Identification Number).  The 1000 were thus produced but in a what sounds a remarkably inefficient way, each Polo Harlekin painted as used on the standard production-line in the base color and then by hand disassembled and reassembled in accordance with the schedule of the Polo Harlekin color chart, the trick being that no two removable panels of the same color were touching.  In the 1960s, the colors had been about engineering; by the 1990s, it was all art.

Polo Harlekin brochure.  The look does seem something which wouldn't appeal to the stereotypical German; it may be they sold well to Bavarians, it being hard to imagine a Prussian driving one. 

Despite the labor intensive nature of production, presumably the accountants would have calculated things and worked out it was less expensive than disrupting the production lines, the same conclusion the Ford Motor Company had reached in 1969 when arranging a small run of Mustangs with the Boss 429 engine.  In the manner typical of such “specials”, added touches included a bright blue leather for the steering wheel, “Joker” plaid upholstery for the sport seats (so admired it would later appear in the “Joker” edition Polo), a Harlekin sticker on the hatch, blue piped floor mats, and Harlekin gear-shift knob.  The other options were the usual array for the Polo, the only surprise for one being which of the four color combinations one would receive when arriving to collect one’s Polo Harlekin.  The 1000 however didn’t satisfy demand so a further 2806 ended up being built, some even with right-hand-drive (RHD), all of which appear to have been sold in the UK, buyers in Australia, Japan and New Zealand denied the pleasure of their own Polo Harlekin.

1996 Volkswagen Golf Harlequin (US market).  The Americans didn't take to the cult as the Europeans had.

Inspired by the European’s embrace of the Harlekin concept, Volkswagen’s North American operation decided the new world too shouldn’t be denied the particoloured treat and in 1996, 264 Mark 3 Golfs (the VW formerly and briefly later known as the Rabbit) were produced for sale in the US, all of course configured with left-hand-drive (LHD), the main visual difference being the use of Tornadorot (Tornado Red, LY3D) while in accordance with local habits, most had automatic gearboxes.  Demand never went close to matching that in Europe and some sat in dealer stock for some time and one dealer in Georgia with eight on his hands had them re-made into single-color cars to attract buyers, the only remaining hint of difference the unique pattern in the grey upholstery.  It echoes what some Plymouth dealers resorted to in 1970 & 1971 to shift the remaining, outlandish Superbirds (now expensive collectables), buyers of the standard Road Runner then easier to find.  The Golf Harlequins haven’t attained quite that status but the oddballs have a following among VW enthusiasts and seem now to command a small price premium.

Made in Mexico: 1996 Volkswagen Beetle Harlequin.  All were originally left-hand drive, this one converted the RHD in the UK.  

There was one more Volkswagen Harlequin and it was the rarest of all.  Although production in Germany ended in 1978 (the last cabriolets sold in the US the following year), Beetle production in Brazil lasted until 1996 and in Mexico until 2003.  Officially, all of the Beetle Harlequins (all of which were fitted with Digifant fuel injection) were produced in VW's Puebla plant and sold in the the home market, hand painted on Ginster Yellow bases.  Some have been photographed in Brazil but the factory denied involvement and, given Brazil’s long tradition of improvisation in such matters, it’s likely they were efforts by enterprising owners although it’s not impossible at least some were Mexican originals. 

Nu en Jaune (Nude in Yellow (1908)), oil on canvas by Sonia Delaunay, Musée d'Arts de Nantes (The Museum of fine arts, Nantes, France).

In the sense the colourful Volkswagens are understood, “harlequin” cars predate not only the ventures of the 1990s which came at the dawn of the internet as a mass-market commodity but even the advertisement of 1960.  French artist Sonia Delaunay (1885–1979) was born in Odessa but was adopted by a rich uncle, became multi-lingual, toured the great capitals of Europe and at 18 entered the Staatliche Akademie der Bildenden Künste Karlsruhe (Karlsruhe State Academy of Art) in Baden-Württemberg, Germany.  After two years, she enrolled at the Académie de La Palette (The Palette Academy; 1888-1925) in Paris which had begun as a progressive art school but early in the century it evolved into a kind of finishing school (an “un foutu terrain de reproduction” (a damned breeding ground) according to some critics) for the avant-garde; the alumni of this short-lived institution is a notable list.

The Ball (1913 and originally Le Bal Bullier (the name of a Parisian ballroom)), oil on canvas by Sonia Delaunay, Centre Pompidou, Paris.  Some 3½ m (12 feet) wide, it is a classic piece in the school of Orphism.

Delaunay’s early work reflected both her academic training and the influences swirling around her but what was always striking was her use of color and a reluctance to adhere to the naturalistic.  These tendencies manifested especially in her role as one of the leading practitioners of Orphism, a fork of Cubism which usually is described as an exercise in pure abstraction rendered in vivid colors.  It was in part a reaction to the focus of the mainstream cubist artists on substantive subjects such as people or physical objects and their obvious aversion to using multiple color but as often seems to happen, Orphism did seem to evolve into of l'art pour l'art (art for art's sake).  Orphism seems to have been the at least the conduit through which Delaunay left the world of fine art an applied her talents to fashion, publications, fabrics, wallpaper industrial structures and machines, some of the most memorable of which were cars.

Escarpins (Court Shoes) (1925) by Sonia Delaunay, Musée de la mode et du textile, Paris (Museum of Fashion and Textiles, 1905-1986) (left) and Propeller (Air Pavilion) (1937), oil on canvas by Sonia Delaunay, a wall-sized work painted for the 1937 Paris Exposition Internationale des Arts et Techniques (International Exhibition of Arts and Techniques Applied to Modern Life) (right). 

From Orphism she brought what she called “simultaneity”, the exercise of the interplay of colors, shapes and textures within the one visual space", a dynamic she would play with when posing with some of her creations, wearing clothing also rendered in the “simultaneity” style.  Even early in the century there had been “stunts” and debates about “what is art” and there is much in what Delaunay produced which can be seen as a precursor to later movements like surrealism and pop art although for those who want to deconstruct as reductively as the record allows, in a sense the path from some elements in prehistoric cave drawings to Dame Vivienne Westwood (1941–2022)  is lineal (with the odd diversion).

Vogue, January 1925, cover art by Georges Lepape.

Cars were among the many machines Delaunay decorated.  Triangles (and the diamond shapes they could combine to create) were one of the notable motifs of the art deco era.  From the start, Vogue was of course about frocks, shoes and such but its influence extended over the years to fields as diverse as interior decorating and industrial design.  The work of Georges Lepape (1887-1971) has long been strangely neglected in the history of art deco but he was a fine practitioner whose reputation probably suffered because his compositions have always been regarded as derivative or imitative which seems unfair given there are many who are more highly regarded despite being hardly original.  His cover art for Vogue’s edition of 1 January 1925 juxtaposed one of Delaunay’s (1885–1979) "simultaneous" pattern dresses and a Voisin roadster she'd decorated with an art deco motif.

1927 Voisin C14 Lumineuse,

One collector in 2015 was so taken with Pepape’s image that when refurbishing his Voisin C14 Lumineuse (literally “light”, an allusion to the Voisin’s greenhouse-inspired design which allowed natural light to fill the interior), he commissioned Dutch artist Bernadette Ramaekers to hand-paint a geometric triangular pattern in sympathy with that on the Vogue cover in 1925.  Ms Ramaekers took six months to complete the project and in 2022 the car sold at auction for £202,500 (US$230,000).  Produced during the whole inter-war period (1919-1939), the Voisin cars were among the most strikingly memorable of the era although for a variety of reasons, commercial viability was often marginal.  The demise was unfortunate because a manufacturer which once contemplated production of a straight-twelve engine deserved to survive.

Making the strange stranger.

There have been a few French cars which looked weirder than the Matra 530 (1967-1973 and not to be confused with the rather faster Matra R.530 air-to-air missile after which it was named) but the small, mid-engined sports car was visually strange enough although, almost sixty years on, it has aged rather well and the appearance would by most plausibly be accepted as something decades younger.  In 1968, Matra's CEO Jean-Luc Lagardère (1928–2003) commissioned Delaunay to use a 530 as a canvas and she delivered a harlequinesque creation.  The Matra is sometimes displayed though it wasn’t an exhibit at the Sonia Delaunay Tate Modern retrospective (April-August 2015), remarkably the first time her work had been showcased by an English gallery.  Had she been a man, it’s likely she’d be more celebrated.

Lindsay Lohan in harlequin mode.  How fashion critics will react to anything beyond the defined parameters of what's thought within their range of "right" is hard to predict: most seemed to like this.

Lindsay Lohan in November 2022 appeared on ABC’s Good Morning America to promote the Netflix movie, Falling for Christmas.  What caught the eye was her outfit, the harlequinesque suit in a gallimaufry of colors from Law Roach’s (b 1978) Akris’ fall 2022 ready-to-wear collection, the assembly including a wide-lapelled jacket, turtleneck and boot cut pants fabricated in a green, yellow, red & orange drei teile (three parts) print in an irregular geometric pattern.  The distinctive look was paired with a similarly eclectic combination of accessories, chunky gold hoop earrings, a cross-body Anouk envelope handbag, and Giuseppe Zanotti platform heels.

The enveloping flare of the trousers concealed the shoes which was a shame, the Giuseppe Zanotti (b 1957) Bebe-style pumps in gloss metallic burgundy leather distinguished by 2-inch (50 mm) soles, 6-inch (150 mm) heels, open vamp, rakish counters and surprisingly delicate ankle straps.  The designer's need for the cut of the trousers to reach to the ground is noted but the shoes deserved to be seen.

Bugeye & Frogeye

Bugeye (pronounced buhg-ahy)

(1) A nautical term for a ketch-rigged sailing vessel used on Chesapeake Bay.

(2) A slang term, unrelated to the nautical use, used to describe objects or creatures with the bulging eyes resembling those of certain bugs.

1883: An Americanism, the construct being bug + eye, coined to describe the 1880s practice of shipwrights painting a large eye on each bow of the ketches used for oyster dredging in Chesapeake Bay, an estuary in the US states of Maryland and Virginia.  Bug dates from 1615–1625 and the original use was to describe insects, apparently as a variant of the earlier bugge (beetle), thought to be an alteration of the Middle English budde, from the Old English -budda (beetle) but etymologists are divided on whether the phrase “bug off” (please leave) is related to the undesired presence of insects or was of a distinct origin.  Although “unbug” makes structural sense (ie remove a bug, as opposed to the sense of “debug”), it doesn’t exist whereas forms such as the adjectives unbugged (not bugged) and unbuggable (not able to be bugged) are regarded as standard.  Eye pre-dates 900 and was from the Middle English eie, yë, eighe, eyghe, yȝe, eyȝe & ie, from the Old English ēge, a variant of ēage, from the Proto-West Germanic augā, from the Proto-Germanic augô (eye).  It was cognate with the German Auge & the Icelandic auga and akin to the Latin oculus (eye), the Lithuanian akìs (eye), the Slavic (Polish) oko (eye), the Old Church Slavonic око (oko) (eye), the Albanian sy (eye), the Ancient Greek ὄψ (óps) (in poetic use, “eye; face”) & ὄσσε (ósse) (eyes), the Armenian ակն (akn), the Avestan aši (eyes) and the Sanskrit अक्षि (ákṣi).  A related Modern English form is “ogle”.  Bugeye is a noun and bugeyed is an adjective; the noun plural is bugeyes.  Hyphenated use of all forms is common. 

Frogeye (pronounced frog-ahy or frawg-ahy)

(1) In botany, a small, whitish leaf spot with a narrow barker border, produced by certain fungi.

(2) A plant disease so characterized.

(3) A slang term, unrelated to the botanical use, used to describe objects or creatures with the bulging eyes resembling those of frogs.

1914–15: A descriptive general term, the construct being frog + eye, for the condition Botryosphaeria obtusa, a plant pathogen that causes Frogeye leaf spot, black rot and cankers on many plant species.  The fungus was first described by in 1832 as Sphaeria obtusa, refined as Physalospora obtusa in 1892 while the final classification was defined in 1964.  Frog (any of a class of small tailless amphibians of the family Ranidae (order Anura) which typically move by hopping and in zoology often referred to as “true frog” because in general use “frog” is used loosely or visually similar creatures) pre-dates 1000 and was from the Middle English frogge, from the Old English frogga, from the Proto-West Germanic froggō (frog).  It was cognate with the Norwegian Nynorsk fraug (frog) and Old Norse frauki and there may be links with the Saterland Frisian Poage (frog) and the German Low German Pogg & Pogge (frog).  The alternative forms in English (some still in regional use at least as late as the mid-seventeenth century were frosk, frosh & frock.  Eye pre-dates 900 and was from the Middle English eie, yë, eighe, eyghe, yȝe, eyȝe & ie, from the Old English ēge, a variant of ēage, from the Proto-West Germanic augā, from the Proto-Germanic augô (eye).  It was cognate with the German Auge & the Icelandic auga and akin to the Latin oculus (eye), the Lithuanian akìs (eye), the Slavic (Polish) oko (eye), the Old Church Slavonic око (oko) (eye), the Albanian sy (eye), the Ancient Greek ὄψ (óps) (in poetic use, “eye; face”) & ὄσσε (ósse) (eyes), the Armenian ակն (akn), the Avestan aši (eyes) and the Sanskrit अक्षि (ákṣi).  A related Modern English form is “ogle”.  Frogeye is a noun and frogeyed is an adjective; the noun plural is frogeyes.  Hyphenated use of all forms is common.

Bugeye or frogeye: The Austin-Healey Sprite

1960 Austin-Healey Sprite (left) & 1972 MG Midget (right).

The Austin-Healey Sprite was produced between 1958 and 1971 (although in the last year of production they were badged as the Austin Sprite, reflecting the end of the twenty year contract with Donald Healey's (1898–1988) eponymous company).  Beginning in 1961, the car was restyled and a more conventional frontal appearance was adopted, shared with the almost identical MG Midget, introduced as at the same time as a corporate companion and the Midget outlived the Sprite, the last built in 1980.  Upon release, the Sprite immediately picked up the nicknames frogeye (UK & most of the Commonwealth) and bugeye (North America) because the headlights were mounted as protuberances atop the hood (bonnet), bearing a resemblance to the eyes of some frogs and bugs.  The original design included retractable headlights but to reduce both cost and weight, fixed-lights were used.  As purely functional mountings, such things continue to be fitted to rally-cars.  The linguistic quirk that saw the Sprite nicknamed bugeye in North America and frogeye in most of the rest of the English-speaking world is a mystery.  Etymologists have noted the prior US use of bugeye as a nautical term but it was both geographically and demographically specific and that use, visually, was hardly analogous with the Sprite.  No other explanation has been offered; the English language is like that.

1963 Lightburn Zeta (left) 1964 Lightburn Zeta Sports (centre) & Lightburn Zeta Sports with "sports lights" (right).

1949 Crosley Hotshot.

Although distinctive, the look wasn’t new, familiar from the use of the Triumph TR2 (1952) and Crosley in the US had used a similar arrangement for their "Hotshot" & "Super Sport" (1949-1952 and notable for being fitted with four-wheel disk brakes) and in Australia, Lightburn (previously noted for their well-regarded washing machines and cement mixers) were in 1964 forced to adopt them for the woeful Zeta Sports to meet headlight-height regulations.  The Zeta Sports was better looking than the Trabant-like "two-door sedan" which preceded it but truly that is damning with faint praise.  An adaptation (development seems not the appropriate word) of the Meadows Frisky microcar of the mid-1950s, the Zeta Sports was built in South Australia and it wasn't initially realized that headlight-height rules in New South Wales (NSW) were such that the low-slung Zeta couldn't comply, even were the suspension to be raised, an expedient MG was compelled to use in 1974 to ensure the bumpers of the Midget & MGB sat at the height specified in new US rules.  Instead "sports lights" were added to the bonnet (hood) which lent some more cartoon-like absurdity to the thing but did little to increase its appeal, only a few dozen built in the two years it was available.

1959 Alfa Romeo Giulietta Sprint Speciale, Tipo (type) 101.20. 

Ungainly the bugeye lights may have been but they were a potentially handy addition given the original headlights doubled as bumper bars.  That seems a silly idea and it is but it wasn't unique to the Zeta and some examples had exquisite (if vulnerable) coachwork, such as the early (low-nose) versions of the much-admired Alfa Romeo Giulietta SS (Sprint Speciale, Tipo (type) 101.20; 1957-1962).  It was only the first 101 cars which were produced in lightweight, bumper-bar less form, that run to fulfil the FIA's homologation rules which demanded a minimum of 100 identical examples to establish eligibility in certain classes of production-car racing.

Lindsay Lohan in "bugeye" sunglasses, the look made popular by Jacqueline Kennedy (1929-1994; US First Lady 1961-1963). 

So aerodynamically efficient (the drag coefficient (CD) a reputed .28) was Carrozzeria Bertone's design that although using only a 1290 cm³ (79 cubic inch) engine with barely 100 hp (75 kW), the SS could achieve an even now impressive 200 km/h (124 mph).  Fitted with a 498 cm³ engine which yielded 21 hp (15.5 kW), the Zeta Sedan thankfully wasn't that fast but did feature a four speed manual gearbox with no reverse gear; to reverse a Zeta, the ignition key was turned the opposite direction so the crankshaft turned the other way.  All four gears remained available so top speed in reverse would presumably have been about the same as going forward but, as Chrysler discovered during the testing for the doomed Airflow (1934-1937), given the vagaries of aerodynamics, it may even have been faster, something which certainly may have been true of the Sports, (at least with the soft top erected) given the additional drag induced by the bugeye lights.  This was never subject to a practical test because unlike the sedan, the diminutive roadster had a reverse gear.  

The class-winning Austin-Healey Sprite, Coupe des Alpes rally, 1958.  With its goofy bugeyes and "grinning grill", the Sprite was often anthropomorphized.  It was part of the little machine's charm and, cheap to run and easy to tune, Sprites were for decades a mainstay of entry-level motorsport and still appear in historic categories.

The French bugeye: The Matra 530SX

Matra’s 1967 advertising copy for the last of the Sports Jets (left) and a 530 (right).

René Bonnet (1904–1983) was a self-taught French designer and engineer who joined the long list of those unable to resist the lure of building a car bearing his name.  It ended badly but his venture does enjoy a place in history because briefly he produced the first mid-engined road cars offered for general sale, some four years after the configuration had in Formula One racing begun to exert a dominance which endures to this day.  His diminutive sports car (marketed variously as René Bonnet Djet, Matra-Bonnet Djet, Matra Sports Djet & Matra Sports Jet) were produced by his company between 1962-1964 and by Matra for a further two years, the French manufacturer taking over the concern when Bonnet was unable to pay for the components earlier supplied.  While Matra continued production of the Djet, it used the underpinnings for a much revised model which would in 1967 emerge as the Matra 530.

Matra R.530 surface to air missile (1962, left) and René Bonnet Missile (1959-1962).

It was only force of circumstances which would lead Matra to producing the Djet.  As Bonnet’s largest creditor when the bills grew beyond his capacity to pay, the accountants worked out the only hope of recovering their stake was to take the equity and continue the operation.  Although asset-stripping wasn’t then the thing it would later become, there’s nothing to suggest this was contemplated and the feeling was the superior administrative capacity of Matra would allow things to be run in a more business-like manner although there was genuine interest in the workforce’s skills with the then still novel fibreglass.  However, although Djet production resumed under new management, Bonnet’s other offerings such as the Missile (1959-1962) were retired.  The missile, a small, front-wheel drive (FWD) convertible was a tourer in the pre-war vein rather than a sports car but while the idea probably had potential, the price was high, the performance lethargic and the styling quirky even by French standards.  In looks, it had much in common with the contemporary Daimler SP250 including the tailfins and catfish-like nose but while the British roadster was genuinely a high-high performance (if flawed) sports car, the missile did not live up to its name; under the hood (bonnet) sat small (some sub 1000 cm³) four cylinder engines rather than the Daimler’s sonorous V8.  One influence did however carry over: Matra named the 530 after one of their other products: the R.530 surface to air missile which had entered service in 1962 after a five year development.

Matra 530: The LX (left) and the SX (right).

Using three-numeral numbers for car names is not unusual but usually the reference is to engine capacity (in the metric world a 280 being 2.8 litres, a 350, 3.5 litres etc while in imperial terms 350, 427 et al stood as an indication of the displacement in cubic inches).  Buick used 225 in honor of the impressive 225 inch (5.7 m) length of the the 1959 Electra, sticking to to it for years even as the thing grew and shrunk and there have been many three-digit numbers which indicated a model's place in the hierarchy, the choice sometimes seemingly arbitrary.  Nor is a link with the materiel of the military unusual, the names of warships have been borrowed and Chevrolet used Corvette as a deliberate allusion to speed and agility but an air-to-air missile was an unusual source although Dodge did once display a Sidewinder show car.  At the time though, it wasn't the Matra's name which attracted most comment.  There have been a few French cars which looked weirder than the 530 but the small, mid-engined sports car was visually strange enough although, almost sixty years on, it has aged rather well and the appearance would by most plausibly be accepted as something decades younger.  The automotive venture wasn’t a risk for Matra because it was a large and diversified industrial conglomerate with profitable interests in transport, telecommunications, aerospace and of course defence (missiles, cluster-bombs, rockets and all that).  As things transpired, the automotive division would for a while prove a valuable prestige project, the participation in motorsport yielding a Formula One Constructors’ Championship and three back-to-back victories in the Le Mans 24 hour endurance classic.

Matra 530: The LX (left) and the SX (right).

The road-car business however proved challenging and Matra never became a major player.  Although the British and Italians would prove there was a market for small, economical sports cars, buyers seemed mostly to prefer more traditionally engineered roadsters which were ruggedly handsome rather than delicately avant-garde.  Although as a niche model in a niche market, the volumes were never high, the 530 was subject to constant development and in 1970 the 530LX was released, distinguished by detail changes and some mechanical improvements.  Most distinctive however was next year’s 530SX, an exercise in “de-contenting” (producing what the US industry used to call a “stripper”) so it could be offered at a lower price point, advertised at 19,000 Fr against the 22,695 asked for the LX.  It was a linguistic coincidence the SX label was later chosen for the lower price 386 & 486 CPUs (central processing unit) by the US-based Intel although they labelled their full-priced offerings DX.

Yuri Gagarin (1934–1968; Soviet pilot and cosmonaut and the first human to travel to “outer space”) with his 1965 Matra Djet (left), standing in front of the Покори́телям ко́смоса (Monumént Pokorítelyam kósmosa) (Monument to the Conquerors of Space), the titanium obelisk erected in 1964 to celebrate the USSR's pioneering achievements in space exploration.  The structure stands 351 feet (107 metres) tall and assumes an incline of 77° which is a bit of artistic licence because the rockets were launched in a vertical path but it was a good decision however because it lent the monument a greater sense of drama.  Underneath the obelisk sits the Музей космонавтики (Memorial Museum of Cosmonautics (known also as the Memorial Museum of Astronautics or Memorial Museum of Space Exploration)) and in the way which was typical of projects in the Brezhnev-era (Leonid Brezhnev (1906–1982; Soviet leader 1964-1982) USSR, although construction was begun in 1964, it wasn't until 1981 the museum opened to the public.

The reduction in the cost of production of the SX was achieved in the usual way: remove whatever expensive stuff can be removed.  Thus (1) the retractable headlights were replaced with four fixed “bugeyes”, a single engine air vent was fitted instead of the LX’s four, (3) the rear seat and carpet were deleted, (4) the front seats were non-adjustable, (5) the trimmed dashboard was replaced by one in brushed aluminium (which was actually much-admired), the removable targa panels in the roof were substituted with a solid panel and, (7) metal parts like bumpers and the grille were painted matte black rather than being chromed.  In the the spirit of the ancien regime, the Frensh adopted the nicknames La Matra de Seigneur (the Matra of a Lord) for the LX & La Matra Pirate (the Matra of a pirate) for the SX.

Who wore the bugeye best?  Austin-Healey Sprite (1958, left), Lightburn Zeta Sports (1964, centre) and Matra 530SX (1971, right).

The SX did little to boost sales and even in 1972 which proved the 530’s most prolific year with 2159 produced, buyers still preferred the more expensive model by 1299 to 860.  Between 1967-1973, only 9609 530s were made: 3732 of the early models, 4731 of the LX and 1146 of the bugeyed SX and, innovative, influential and intriguing as it and the Djet were, it was a failure compared with something unadventurous like the MGB (1963-1980), over a half-million of which were delivered.  One 530 however remains especially memorable, a harlequinesque 1968 model painted by French artist Sonia Delaunay (1885–1979), a founder of the school of Orphism (a fork of Cubism which usually is described as an exercise in pure abstraction rendered in vivid colors).  The work was commissioned by Matra's CEO Jean-Luc Lagardère (1928–2003) for a charity auction and still is sometimes displayed in galleries.  In 2003, after some thirty years of co-production with larger manufacturers, Matra’s automotive division was declared bankrupt and liquidated.