Sole

Sole (pronounced sohl)

(1) Being the only one; only.

(2) Being the only one of the kind; unique; unsurpassed; matchless.

(3) Belonging or pertaining to one individual or group to the exclusion of all others; exclusive.

(4) In law, un-married (archaic).

(5) The bottom or under-surface of the foot.

(6) The corresponding under part of a shoe, boot, or the like, or this part exclusive of the heel.

(7) The bottom, under surface, or lower part of anything.

(8) In carpentry, the underside of a plane.

(9) In golf, the part of the head of the club that touches the ground.

(10) A European flatfish, Solea solea.

(11) Any other flatfish of the families Soleidae and Cynoglossidae, having a hook-like snout.

1275-1325:  From the Old French soul & sol (only, alone, just), from the Vlugar Latin sola from the Late Latin sōlus (alone, only, single, sole; forsaken; extraordinary), replacing Middle English soule.  The source was the Classical Latin solea (sandal, bottom of a shoe; a flatfish), derivative of solum (base, bottom, ground, foundation, lowest point of a thing (hence “sole of the foot”)).  The Latin root begat similar words in many European languages: the Spanish suela, the Italian soglia and the Portuguese solha although, technically, the bottom of the foot is the planta, corresponding to the palm of the hand.  The Latin sōlus is of unknown origin but may be related to the primitive Indo-European reflexive root swo- from which English later gained "so".

A fossil flatfish.

The various common European flatfishes (of the ray-finned demersal order Pleuronectiformes) became known as sole in the mid-thirteenth century, an adoption of French use which followed the Latin which named the solea after the sandal because of the resemblance in shape to a flat shoe.  In English, the meaning "bottom of a shoe or boot" is from the late fourteenth century, and the cobbler’s phrase “to heal and sole a boot (or shoe)” to describe a repair or replacement is a verb form from the 1560s.  Another linguistic innovation of boot-makers was the noun insole (an inner lining of a shoe or boot affixed inside to the bottom and following exactly the shape) which appeared in 1838; it soon became known as the inner sole or inner-sole.

The use in both Church and common law to mean "single, alone, having no husband or wife” was an appropriation of form reflecting the normal, everyday meaning of the sole (one and only, singular, unique) and was first used in that context in the late fourteenth century and, in some technical uses, appeared still as late as the early nineteenth.  The adjective solely began to appear in the late fifteenth century.  A particular adjectival adoption was the direct borrowing from Latin of solus, used in the theatre for stage directions by 1590s.  It’s a masculine (the feminine is sola) but, as part of an industry-specific jargon, solus was used for both.  In certain circles, including poets and lawyers, use of the word persisted in old Latin phrases such as solus cum sola (alone with an unchaperoned woman) and solus cum solo (all on one's own” (which translates literally as "alone with alone")).

Studies of the soles of the Lindsay Lohan’s feet in three aspects.

Sole and its antecedents proved a a productive source in English, the soleus (muscle of the calf of the leg) a creation in the 1670s in the Modern Latin used in medicine and, like the fish, inspired by the similarity to the Roman shoe.  The adjective solitary (alone, living alone) was a mid-fourteenth century formation from the Old French solitaire, from the Latin solitarius (alone, lonely, isolated) from solitas (loneliness, solitude) from solus (alone).  The meaning "single, sole, only" is from 1742 and the related forms are a solitarily & solitariness.   It was a noun as early as the late 1300s but the most inventive adaptation was probably the 1690s prison slang in which it described the punishment of solitary confinement; in 1854 the phrase became an official part of the administration of jails.

Martin Luther aged 43 (1529) by Lucas Cranach the Elder (1472-1653).

As a Reformation coinage, solus also provided theology with the 1590s solifidian (one who believes in salvation by faith alone), a tenet of Protestant Christianity based on the translation by the dissident, one-time Augustinian monk Martin Luther (1483-1546) of Romans 3:28, the construct being solus (alone) + fides (faith) from the primitive Indo-European root bheidh- (to trust, confide, persuade).  It must have been a success because solifidian was used as an adjective early in the new century; the related form is solifidianism.  Philosophy gained solipsism, the theory that self is the only object of real knowledge or the only thing that is real and that all else must be denied.

The solo as a “piece of music for one voice or instrument” dates from the 1690s and was in English a commonly used adjective as early as 1712, although the early uses had nothing to do with music, instead referring to activities undertaken alone or unassisted.  The verb is first attested 1858 in the musical sense, 1886 in a non-musical sense and was adopted in the business of pilot training to describe a pupil’s first flight without an instructor in the cockpit.  Among those who attend rock concerts, there seems to be one faction which regards the drum solo as a highlight and one for which it's a bore to be endured.

A desolate emo.

Desolate, the emo’s standard alliterative companion to devastated, in the mid-1300s meant “a person disconsolate, miserable, overwhelmed with grief, deprived of comfort", extended later in the century to “persons without companions, solitary, lonely".  If the word didn’t exist, emos would have invented it.  By the early fifteenth century, it became applied to the natural environment to describe places, "uninhabited, abandoned" from the Latin desolatus, past participle of desolare (leave alone, desert), the construct being de- (completely) + solare (make lonely).  It’s not clear when it came also to be used as a criticism of urban, built environments (typically industrial or suburban) but it was well-established early in the twentieth century.  Desolation (sorrow, grief, personal affliction), circa 1400 meant the "action of laying waste, destruction or expulsion of inhabitants" is from the twelfth century Old French desolacion (desolation, devastation, hopelessness, despair) and directly from the Church Latin desolationem (nominative desolatio), a noun of action from the past-participle stem of desolare (leave alone, desert).  The sense of a "condition of being ruined or wasted, destruction" is from the early 1400 and the sense of "a desolated place, a devastated or lifeless region" is from 1610s.  Also emo-themed was the adjective sullen, a 1570s alteration of the Middle English soleyn (unique, singular) from the Anglo-French solein, formed on the pattern of the Old French solain (lonely), from the Latin solus.  The emo-inspired sense shift in Middle English from "solitary" to "morose" occurred in the late fourteenth century.  Solitude is from the mid-fourteenth century, from the Old French solitude (loneliness) and directly from the Latin solitudinem (nominative solitudo) (loneliness, being alone; lonely place, desert, wilderness) from solus but didn’t become common use in English until the seventeenth century.  The solitudinarian (a recluse, unsocial person) is recorded from 1690s and it’s perhaps surprising such a modern-sounding word isn’t today more popular.

Saint Augustine of Hippo (circa 1510) by Berto di Giovanni (d 1529).

The noun soliloquy is from the 1610s, from the Late Latin soliloquium (a talking to oneself", the construct being solus + loqui (to speak) from the primitive Indo-European root tolkw- (to speak).  Earlier, it appeared in a translation of the Latin Soliloquiorum libri duo a treatise by Saint Augustine (354-430), who is said to have coined the word, on analogy of Greek monologia.  The related form is soliloquent.

Plantar

Plantar (pronounced plan-ter)

In anatomy and zoology, of or relating to the sole of the foot.

1706: From the Latin plantāris (pertaining to the sole of the foot), from planta (sole of the foot) from a nasalized form of the primitive Indo-European root pletə- or plat- (to spread) an extension of the root pele- (flat; to spread).  Related were the Sanskrit prathati (spreads out), the Hittite palhi (broad), the Ancient Greek platys (broad, flat), the Lithuanian platus (broad), the German Fladen (flat cake), the Old Norse flatr (flat), the Old English flet (floor, dwelling) and the Old Irish lethan (broad).  The Latin planta may be analysed as plant +‎ -ar.  The –ar suffix was from Latin -āris (of, pertaining to) and was appended to nouns to create adjectives.  The -aris suffix was a form of -ālis with dissimilation of -l- to -r- after roots containing an l (the alternative forms were -ālis, -ēlis, -īlis & -ūlis); it was used to form adjectives, usually from noun, indicating a relationship or a "pertaining to".  The exact origin of the Latin planta (which in addition to meaning (1) “sole of the foot” could be used in the sense of (2) any vegetable production that serves to propagate the species; a sprout, shoot, twig, sprig, sucker, graft, scion, slip, cutting or (3) a young tree, a shrub that may be transplanted; a set) is uncertain.  It was from either (1) the Proto-Italic plāntā, from the primitive Indo-European pléh-n̥t-eh, from pleh- (flat) or (2) the Proto-Italic plānktā, from the primitive Indo-European pl̥hnk or gteh, from plehk- & plehg- (to strike, fast).  In anatomy, the derived terms include plantar fascia (the thick connective tissue which supports the arch of the foot) and plantar fasciitis (a painful inflammation of the plantar fascia.  The term plantar wart (apparently sometimes initially misunderstood by patients as “planter’s wart”) describes a wart which occurs on the sole of the foot or the toes.  The medical Latin is verruca plantaris.  Plantar is an adjective.

Plantar flexion and dorsiflextion

Lindsay Lohan, plantaflexing.

Plantar flexion refers to the movement of the foot when it is bent at the ankle away from the body, accomplished by flexing muscles in the calf, ankle, and foot.  In normal range of human activity, the range of motion is usually between 20-50^o, a commons example being depressing a car’s accelerator (throttle) pedal. Or even the mere act of walking.  The word “flexion” is used by anatomists and others to describe the movement of many body parts.  The notion of flexing at the knee or elbow is well understood in everyday life and technically, flexion is the decreased angle at a joint between two or more bones.  In the common act of bending the elbow from a straightened position, the angle decreases between the humerus and the radius and ulna of the forearm.  Plantar flexion is defined usually as the decreased angle between the plantar side of the foot and the back of the tibia at the tibiotalar joint (better known as the ankle) and can be visualized as the bending of the sole of the foot down where the toes are moving down and away from the body.  Done deliberately in exaggerated form it can feel unnatural but having one’s toes point downwards is something inherent to human movement, the activities (as well as using a car’s throttle pedal) including bending the foot during walking (propelling the mass of the body forward as it pushes off the ground) and standing on one’s tip toes which reaching for something in a high place.

Lindsay Lohan, dorsiflextion to the left, plantar flexion to the right.

The companion movement is dorsiflexation, an upward bending which, although applied most often to the foot, other body parts such as hands or digits (fingers) can be said to dorsiflex.  Dating from the early nineteenth century, dorsiflexion was a creation which appeared first in the literature of the early-modern science of anatomy.  The construct was dorsi (from the Middle English dorsal or dorsale from the Medieval Latin dorsālis (of or relating to the back)) + flex (from the Latin flexiō (genitive flexiōnis), from flectō (I bend, curve), from the Proto-Italic flektō, of uncertain origin and unknown in other Indo-European cognates) + -ion (the Latin suffix denoting action or condition).  The –ion suffic was from the Middle English -ioun, from the Old French -ion, from the Latin -iō (genitive -iōnis).  It was appended to a perfect passive participle to form a noun of action or process, or the result of an action or process.  Dorsiflexion is also a movement associated with the multiple joints.  The definition is of an action in which induces a decreased angle between the dorsal side of the body part and the bone or bones that are proximal to the body.  When one’s wrist is bent and the back of the hand is moving towards the body, that is an act of dorsiflexion and when the toes are pointed up or raised backward toward the body, this is also dorsiflexion so, using the feet as an illustrative example, plantar flexion and dorsiflextion can be understood as opposite movements at the ankle joint (both obviously being associated with flexion). That means the essence of the difference is the location of the foot doing the bending away from the ankle joint: If the toes rise as the ankle bends, it’s dorsiflexion while if the toes tend downwards, it’s a plantar flex.

Lindsay Lohan, plantar flexion to the left, dorsiflextion to the right.

Although the term (plantar flex) and word (dorsiflex) refer to variations of the same movement, the practice has always been to use a compound form only for the latter although the mechanics of the etymology is the same in that plantar flex references the sole of the foot and dorsiflex the back.  Perhaps counter-intuitively, the upper surface of a foot (the dorsal surface) is, to an anatomist, the back, a convention of use more familiar when used as the “back of the hand”.  Anatomists recommend imaging the dorsal fin of the shark as a memory trick, something associated with the “back side of an animal”. Consider a dorsal fin on a shark which is located on the back side of the shark. If the foot was a four-legged animal, the dorsal side would be the top of the foot. Likewise, if the hand was held out straight, the back side of the hand is called the dorsal side.  Interestingly, by convention, despite the obvious etymological connections, dorsiflex is the universal form while plantarflex, although a correct alternative spelling, is rarely seen outside of technical literature.

Slap

Slap (pronounced slap)

(1) A sharp blow or smack, especially with the open hand or with something flat; a sound made by or as if by such a blow or smack.

(2) By analogy, a sharply worded or sarcastic rebuke or comment.

(3) To put or place something promptly and sometimes haphazardly (often followed by on; if haphazard, often described as slapdash).

(4) As slap on the wrist, relatively mild criticism or censure, often used critically when more onerous punishments are available.

(5) A gap or opening, as in a fence, wall, cloud bank, or line of troops; a mountain pass; a wound or gash (now rare).

(6) As slap-sole, an additional sole affixed between the heel and sole of a high-heeled shoe. 

(7) In slang, make up (based on the notion "that which is slapped on").

(8) In slang, a poster (based on the notion "slapped onto the wall").  

Origin uncertain: It’s been linked to the (1325–1375) Middle English slop from the Middle Dutch or Middle Low German (cognate with German Schlupf (hiding place)) though with little support.  The seventeenth century Middle English slappen is of uncertain origin and probably imitative, drawing from the Low German Slapp & Slappe (slap) from which Modern German gained Schlappe (defeat).  Most suggest the verb use (in the sense of “strike with an open hand”) began in the late fifteenth century, became an adverb in the 1670s, and picked up the meanings “suddenly” or “directly” in 1829.  The noun form dates from the mid fifteenth century, again apparently of imitative origin, similar to the various German forms slappe & Schlappe.  The figurative meaning "insult, reprimand" is attested from 1736; the now probably obsolete “slap-happy” (1936) originally meant "punch-drunk and “slap on the wrist” meaning "very mild punishment" dates from 1914.  The modern acronym SLAPP is unrelated.  Slap is a noun, verb & adverb, slapping is a noun, slapper is a noun, verb & adjective, slapped is a verb and slappy is a noun & adjective; the noun plural is slaps.

Slap soles

Although they became high (and occasionally extreme) fashion items, slap soles began as a purely functional addition to men’s boots.  In the seventeenth century, men of a certain class, upon dismounting their horses, would slip a flat-soled mule over their riding boots to stop their heels sinking into the ground.  Presumably seeing a gap in the market, cobblers began to attach an additional sole, extending from tip to heel but not actually attached to the heel, a design which when walking, produced a clacking, slapping sound.  The apparently strange design existed so that riding boots would still fit securely in the stirrups and not interfere with the spurs.

Men in slap-soled boots.  Portrait of Lord John Stuart and his brother Lord Bernard Stuart (circa 1638), oil on canvas by Sir Anthony van Dyck (1599–1641).

Seventeenth century women's slap-soled shoes.

History doesn’t record whether women were attracted to the style or just the idea of being able to wear their newly fashionable high-heels without also sinking into the soil but the concept was soon extended to women’s shoes.  However, when applied to women’s shoes, although the slap-sole name stuck, there was no slapping sound when walking because the sole was this time anchored at the heel as well.  It’s essentially the same concept used on a tank or bulldozer, a self-laying track which renders a more stable surface on which to move.  So bizarre was the appearance of these shoes that they have long been a collectable and the delicate, intricate detailing on many does suggest many of them must have been created purely as pieces of high-fashion.  Doubtless there were some women of the horsey set who used the genuine slapping-soles as did the men but on the (admittedly hardly representative) basis of the surviving depictions, more seem to have worn them far from muddy stable yards.

Usage guide for “slap”:  An example of a literal “slap” is being “slapped in the face” by the mother of the children one is attempting to “rescue from traffickers” on the streets of Moscow.  A figurative “slap” is being “slapped with a parking fine” for leaving one’s Cadillac Escalade parked next to a fire hydrant.  Overlap is possible because a parking ticket is in some places still a physical slip of paper or cardboard so one literally could be “slapped with a parking ticket”.  Instances of such presumably are rare but to avoid ambiguity the correct use is “slapped with a parking fine” (figurative) or “slapped with a parking ticket” (the literal assault & battery).

Sabot & Clog

Sabot (pronounced sab-oh or sa-boh (French)

(1) A shoe made of a single block of wood hollowed out, worn especially by farmers and workers in the Netherlands, France, Belgium etc.

(2) A shoe with a thick wooden sole and sides and a top of coarse leather.

(3) In military ordinance, a wooden or metal disk formerly attached to a projectile in a muzzle-loading cannon.

(4) In firearm design, a lightweight sleeve in which a sub-caliber round is enclosed in order to make it fit the rifling of a firearm; after firing the sabot drops away.

(5) In nautical use, a small sailing boat with a shortened bow (Australia).

1600–1610: From the French sabot, from the Old French çabot, a blend of savate (old shoe), of uncertain origin and influenced by bot (boot).  The mysterious French savate (old shoe), despite much research by etymologists, remains of unknown origin.  It may be from the Tatar чабата (çabata) (overshoes), ultimately either from the Ottoman Turkish چاپوت‎ (çaput or çapıt) (patchwork, tatters), or from the Ottoman Turkish چاپمق‎ (çapmak) (to slap on), or of Iranian origin, cognate with the modern Persian چپت‎ (čapat) (a kind of traditional leather shoe).  It was akin to the Old Provençal sabata, the Italian ciabatta (old shoe), the Spanish zapato, the Norman chavette and the Portuguese sapato.  The plural is sabots.

Young women in clogs, smoking cigarettes.

Sabot is the ultimate source of sabotage & saboteur.  English picked up sabotage from the French saboter (deliberately to damage, wreck or botch), used originally to refer to the tactic used in industrial disputes by workers wearing the wooden shoes called sabots who disrupted production in various ways.  The persistent myth is that the origin of the term lies in the practice of workers throwing the wooden sabots into factory machinery to interrupt production but the tale appears apocryphal, one account even suggesting sabot-clad workers were simply considered less productive than others who had switched to leather shoes, roughly equating the term sabotage with inefficiency.

Vintage Dutch sabots.

The words saboter and saboteur appear first to have appeared in French dictionaries in 1808 (Dictionnaire du Bas-Langage ou manières de parler usitées parmi le peuple of d'Hautel) suggesting there must have been some use of the words in printed materials some time prior to then.  The literal definition provided was “to make noise with sabots” and “bungle, jostle, hustle, haste” but with no suggestion of the shoes being used in the “spanner in the works” sense suggested by the myth.  Sabotage would not appear in dictionaries for some decades, noted first in the Dictionnaire de la langue française of Émile Littré (1801-1881) published between 1873-1874 and curiously, it’s defined as referencing that specialty of cobbling “the making of sabots; sabot maker”.  It wouldn’t be until 1897 that the use to describe malicious damage in pursuit of industrial or political aims was recorded, anarcho-syndicalist Émile Pouget (1860-1931) publishing Action de saboter un travail (Sabotaging or bungling at work) in Le Père Peinard, which he helpfully expanded in 1911 in the user manual Le Sabotage.  In neither work however was there mention of using sabots as a means of damaging or halting machinery, the sense was always of things done by those wearing sabots, the word a synecdoche for the industrial proletariat.  Contemporary English-language sources confirm this.  In its January 1907 edition, The Liberty Review noted sabotage was a means of “scamping work… a device… adopted by certain French workpeople as a substitute for striking.  The workman, in other words, purposes to remain on and to do his work badly, so as to annoy his employer's customers and cause loss to his employer”.

Clog promotion, H&M catalog 2011.

Clog (pronounced klog or klawg)

(1) To hinder or obstruct with thick or sticky matter; choke up.

(2) To crowd excessively, especially so that movement is impeded; overfill.

(3) To encumber; hamper; hinder.

(4) To become clogged, encumbered, or choked up.

(5) A shoe or sandal with a thick sole of wood, cork, rubber, or the like; a similar but lighter shoe worn in the clog dance.

(6) A heavy block, as of wood, fastened to a person or beast to impede movement.

(7) As clog dance, a type of dance which specifically demands the wearing of clogs.

(8) In British dialectal use, a thick piece of wood (now rare).

(9) In the slang of association football (soccer), to foul an opponent (now rare).

(10) A heavy block, especially of wood, fastened to the leg of a person or animal to impede motion.

(11) To use a mobile phone to take a photograph of (someone) and upload it without their knowledge or consent, the construct being c(amera) + log, a briefly used term from the early days of camera-equipped phones on the which never caught on.

1300s: Of unknown origin, most likely from the Middle English clogge (weight attached to the leg of an animal to impede movement) or from a North Germanic form such as klugu & klogo (knotty tree log) from the Old Norse, the Dutch klomp or the Norwegian klugu (knotty log of wood).  The word was also used in Middle English to describe big pieces of jewelry and large testicles.  The meaning "anything that impedes action" is from the 1520s, via the notion of "block or mass constituting an encumbrance” although it became nuanced, by 1755 builders were distinguishing between things clogged with whatever naturally belonged then and becoming “choked up with extraneous matter”, a distinction doubtlessly of great significance to plumbers.  The sense of the "wooden-soled shoe" is attested from the late fourteenth century, used as overshoes until the introduction of rubber soles circa 1840.  Related forms include the adjective cloggy, the noun clogginess, the verbs clogged & clog·ging and the adverb cloggily.  A frequently used adjectival derivative is anticlogging, often as a modifier of agent and, unsurprisingly, the verb unclog, first noted circa 1600, is also common.

Lindsay Lohan in Gucci Black Patent Leather Hysteria Platform Clogs with wooden soles, Los Angeles, 2009.  The car is a 2009 (fifth generation) Maserati Quattroporte leased by her father.

Clogs were originally made entirely of wood (hence the name), the more familiar modern form with leather uppers covering the front being noted first in the late sixteenth century but may have been worn earlier.  Long popular with men working in kitchens (always with a rubber covering on the sole), the first revival as a fashion item occurred circa 1970, primarily for women and clog-dancing, a form "which required the wearing of clogs" is attested from 1863.  There are now a variety of variations on the clog sole including the Tengu geta, having a single tooth in the centre and the Albarcas which features extensions something like a three-legged stool.  None look very comfortable but their users appear content.

Lindsay Lohan's promotion for the collaboration between German fashion house MCM & Crocs, introducing the "pragmatic" Mega Crush Clog.  Not that there was ever much doubt but now we know clogs can be "pragmatic".

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.