Ultra

Ultra (pronounced uhl-truh)

(1) The highest point; acme; the most intense degree of a quality or state; the extreme or perfect point or state.

(2) Going beyond what is usual or ordinary; excessive; extreme.

(3) An extremist, as in politics, religion, sporting team supporters, fashion etc, used semi-formally on many occasions in history.

(4) In the history of military espionage, the British code name for intelligence gathered by decrypting German communications enciphered on the Enigma machine during World War II (initial capital letter).

1690–1700: A New Latin adverb and preposition ultrā (uls (beyond) + -ter (the suffix used to form adverbs from adjectives) + -ā (suffixed to the roots of verbs)).  The prefix ultra- was a word-forming element denoting "beyond" (eg ultrasonic) or "extremely" (ultralight (as used in aviation)) and was in common use from the early nineteenth century, the popularity of use apparently triggered by the frequency with which it was used of political groupings in France.  As a stand-alone word (in the sense now used of the most rabid followers of Italian football teams) meaning "extremist", it dates from 1817 as a shortening of ultra-royaliste (extreme royalist (which at the time was a thing))."  The independent use of ultra (or shortening of words prefixed with it) may also have been influenced by nē plūs ultrā (may you) not (go) further beyond (this point), said to be a warning to sailors inscribed on the Pillars of Hercules at Gibraltar.  This legend comes not from Greek mythology but dates from the resurrection of interest in antiquity which began during the Renaissance, influenced by Plato having said the lost city of Atlantis “lay beyond the Pillars of Hercules” and the most useful translations of nē plūs ultrā probably something like "go no further, nothing lies beyond here".

As a prefix, ultra- has been widely appended.  The construct of ultra vires (literally "beyond powers") was ultra (beyond) + vires (strength, force, vigor, power) and is quoted usually by courts and tribunals to describe their jurisdictional limits, something ultra vires understood as "beyond the legal or constitutional power of a court".  In political science, the term ultranationalism was first used in 1845, a trend which has ebbed & flowed but certainly hasn't died.  The speed of light being what it is, ultralight refer not to optics but to very small (often home-built or constructed from a kit) aircraft, the term first used in 1979 although it was (briefly) used in experimental physics in the late 1950s.  Ultrasound in its current understanding as a detection & diagnostic technique in medicine dates from 1958 but it had been used in 1911 to mean "sound beyond the range of human hearing", this sense later replaced by ultrasonic (having frequency beyond the audible range) in 1923, used first of radio transmission; the applied technology ultrasongraphy debuted in 1960.  Ultraviolet (beyond the violet end of the visible spectrum) was first identified in 1840 and in 1870 ultra-red was coined to describe what is now known as infra-red.  First identified in the 1590s, ultramarine (blue pigment made from lapis lazuli) was from the Medieval Latin ultramarinus ("beyond the sea"), the construct being ultra +  marinus (of the sea) from mare (sea, the sea, seawater), from the primitive Indo-European root mori- (body of water), the name said to be derived from the mineral arriving by ship from mines in Asia.  Ultramontane has a varied history and was first used in the 1590s.  It was from the Middle French ultramontain (beyond the mountains (especially the Alps)), from the early fourteenth century Old French, the construct being ultra + the stem of mons (hill), from the primitive Indo-European root men- (to project) and was used particularly of papal authority, though the precise meaning bounced around depending on context.  The acronym UHF (ultra-high frequency) was coined in 1937 although the technology using radio frequencies in the range of 300-3000 megahertz (Mhz) became available in 1932.  Other forms (ultramodern, ultra-blonde etc) are coined as required and survive or fall from use in the usual way English evolves.

The Ultras

The prefix ultra- occurred originally in loanwords from Latin, meaning essentially “on the far side of, beyond.”  In relation to the base to which it is prefixed, ultra- has the senses “located beyond, on the far side of” (eg ultraviolet), “carrying to the furthest degree possible, on the fringe of” (eg ultramodern) or “extremely” (eg ultralight); nouns to which it is added denote, in general, objects, properties, phenomena etc that surpass customary norms, or instruments designed to produce or deal with such things (eg ultrasound).  The more recent use as a noun (usually in the collective as “the ultras”) applied to members of an extreme faction dates from early nineteenth-century English parliamentary politics and is associated also with the most extreme supporters of certain Italian football (soccer) teams.

Although never formally a faction in the modern sense of the word, the ultra Tories (the ultras) operated from 1827 (some political scientists insists the aggregation coalesced only in 1828) as a formal as a loose and unstructured grouping of politicians, intellectuals, and journalists who constituted, in embryonic form, the “extreme right wing” of British and Irish politics.  Essentially reactionary conservatives unhappy with changes associated with the Enlightenment, the industrial revolution and urbanization, they regarded the 1689 protestant constitution as the unchangeable basis of British social, economic and political life and treated all their opponents with a rare obsessional hatred.  In another echo of recent right-wing politics, the ultras showed some scepticism of economic liberalism and supported measures designed to ameliorate the hardships suffered by the poor during the early industrial age.  Like a number of modern, nominally right-wing populist movements, the ultras were suspicious of “free trade” and the destructive consequences these policies had on industries vulnerable to competition from foreign producers.

Portrait of the Duke of Wellington (1769-1852) by Francisco Goya (1746–1828), circa 1812–14, oil on mahogany panel, National Gallery, London.

The previously inchoate ultras coalesced into a recognizable force in the period of instability which followed the death in 1827 of a long-serving prime-minister.  Their first flexing of political muscle, which proved unsuccessful, was an attempt to deny the premiership to a supporter of Catholic emancipation but the ultras emerged as a powerful influence in Tory politics although many claimed to belong to the Whig tradition.  Their annus mirabilis (a remarkable or auspicious year) came in 1830 when the ultras brought down the Duke of Wellington’s government (1828-1830) but the need for reform was unstoppable and while the label was for decades to be applied to the far-right of the Conservative Party, the latter iterations never matched the political ferocity of the early adherents.

Ultra Blonde product.

Although there are packaged products labeled as such and the phrase "ultra-blonde" is far from uncommon, there's no precise definition of such a thing and while some blondes are blonder than others, on the spectrum, there is a point at which going further means the color ceases to anymore to be blonde and becomes some shade which tends to grey, white or the dreaded yellow.  For that reason, some hairdressers prefer to describe platinum as a stand-alone color rather than the usual "platinum blonde", noting that the end result will anyway usually to some degree differ, depending on the shade and physiology of the hair to be treated.  They also caution the idea of ultra blonde isn't suitable for everyone and base their recommendations of whether a client's skin is warm or cool toned, the practical test being to assess the veins visible in the wrist; if they're mostly blue and purple (source of the word "blue-blooded" which was based on the notion of those with obviously blue veins being rich enough not to have to work in the fields), then the undertone is cool, if mostly green then it's warm and if a mix of both, the undertone is neutral.

Lindsay Lohan had an ultra-blonde phase but for her Playboy photo shoot in 2012, wore a blonde wig; many would call this "ultra blonde" but to a professional hairdresser it's a "pale".

The undertone interacts with skin tone, paler, pinky skin tones suit cool, delicate blondes like ash, beige or baby-blonde whereas darker or more golden-toned skins suit honey hues described often as butter, golden or caramel.  For perfectionists, there's also eye color to consider and here the trick is to achieve the desired degree of contrast; soft, multi-tonal shades better complementing lighter colours whereas deeper, richer blondes flatter the darker eye.  Those especially obsessive can use non-optically corrective contact lens, eye color often easier to change than hair.  So, while hairdressers think of ultra blonde as shifting concept rather than a specific color, most agree (whatever the sometimes extraordinary proliferation of imaginatively named products on manufacturers' color charts), there are essentially four stages of blondness and they’re usually described as something like: medium, light, pale & platinum.  In each of those categories, it's possible to be an "ultra" though hairdressers will readily admit their technical distinctions resonate little with customers whose expectation of "ultra" is simply the limit of what's physically possible.

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 sandals and the artist immediately took his brushes and pallet and touched-up the 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", if they turn out to give answers which generate audience numbers, controversy or clicks, they become "talent" and may be 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 gong 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

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

In 1973, when a million dollars was a still lot of money, the NGA (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 although the suggestion in 2016 the value may have inflated to as much as US$350 million was though to be "on the high side".  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, fibres, and broken wooden sticks on canvas.

Although the general public remained uninterested (except in 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 lots of 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’s not art, anyone could do 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” by which she meant the wouldn't necessarily come up with anything of which the critical establishment (a kind of freemasonry of the art business) would approve (ie could put a price tag on).

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

In 2010, Ms Harrison 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".

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; 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 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".

Blue Poles, upside down.

Although the suggestion might offend the trained and discerning eyes of art critics, it’s doubtful that for ultracrepidarians the experience of viewing Blue Poles would much be different were it to be hung upside down.  Fortunately, the world does have a goodly stock of art critics who can explain that while Pollock did more than once say his works should be interpreted “subjectively”, their intended orientation is a part of the whole and an inversion would change the visual dynamics and gravitational illusions upon which the abstraction effects depend would be changed.  It would still be a painting but, in a sense, not the one the artist painted.  Because the drip technique involved “flinging and poring paint” onto a canvas spread across a studio’s floor, there was not exactly a randomness in where the paint landed but physics did mean gravity exerted some pull (in flight and on the ground), lending layers and rivulets what must be a specific downward orientation.  Thus, were the work to be hung inverted, what was in the creative process a downward flow would be seen as “flowing uphill” as it were.  The compositional elements which lent the work its name were course the quasi-vertical “poles” placed at slight angles and its these which are the superstructure which “anchor” the rest of the drips and, being intrinsically “directional”, they too have a “right way up”.  There is in the assessment of art the “eye of the beholder” but although it may be something they leave unstated, most critics will be of the “some eyes are more equal than others” school.

Mondrian’s 1941 New York City 1 as it (presumably correctly) sat in the artist's studio in 1944 (left) and as it was since 1945 exhibited (upside-down) in New York and Düsseldorf (right).  Spot the difference.

So although ultracrepidarians may not “get it” (even after digesting the critics’ explanations) and wouldn’t be able to tell whether or not it was hung correctly, that’s because they’re philistines.  In the world of abstract art however, even the critics can be fooled: in 2022, it was revealed a work in Piet Mondrian’s (1872-1944) 1941 New York City 1 series had for 77 years been hanging upside down.  First in exhibited in 1945 in New York’s MOMA (Museum of Modern Art), the piece was created with multi-colored adhesive paper tape and, in an incorrect orientation, it has since 1980 hung in the Düsseldorf Museum as part of the Kunstsammlung Nordrhein-Westfalen’s collection.  The decades-long, trans-Atlantic mistake came to light during a press conference held to announce the Kunstsammlung’s new Mondrian exhibition and the conclusion was the error may have been caused by something as simple as the packing-crate being overturned or misleading instructions being given to the staff.  1941 New York City 1 will remain upside because of the condition of the adhesive strips.  “The adhesive tapes are already extremely loose and hanging by a thread” a curator was quoted as saying, adding that if it were now to be turned-over, “…gravity would pull it into another direction.  And it’s now part of the work’s story.”  Mondrian was one of the more significant theorists of abstract art and its withdrawal from nature and natural subjects.  “Denaturalization” he proclaimed to be a milestone in human progress, adding: “The power of neo-plastic painting lies in having shown the necessity of this denaturalization in painterly terms... to denaturalize is to abstract... to abstract is to deepen.”  Thanks to the curator, now even ultracrepidarians can understand.

Portrait of Dora Maar (1937), oil on canvas by Pablo Picasso, Musée Picasso, Paris, France.  The image to the right, still recognizably a human figure, obviously is “upside down”.  

One of the early surrealists, Dora Maar (Henriette Theodora Markovitch, 1907–1997) was associated with the artists in the inter-war years opposed to fascism; her relationship with Picasso would last a decade and produce a number of portraits but her attitude to them was ambivalent.  Still, as Picasso's best remembered muse, she gained a kind of immortality.

Although there’s a tendency to divide art into the “abstract” and “realistic”, both categories encompass wide variations and probably the only truly useful binary is between “photo-realism” (ie close to indistinguishable from a HD (high definition) photograph and everything else.  The cubists, futurists and impressionists definitely were abstract artists but their works often could be recognized as distortions of reality (the straddling orphists a bit of a “gray area”) while the nature of the subject was unambiguous.  By contrast, Action Painting (the “drippers” and beyond), Color Field Painting, Geometric Abstraction, Expressionism, Neo-plasticism, Informalism, Op Art and such often wholly was disconnected from anything immediately recognizable as being physical reality and a useful test is compare depictions on the works side-by-side, one hung as the artist intended, the other “upside down”.  Ultracrepidarians and others can then be asked to judge which is which and it’d be interesting to see if professionals are any more accurate than amateurs.  Unfortunately, AI (artificial intelligence) can’t be used as a sort of “control” if well-known works are part of the test because in digitized form their “correct” aspect would be “known” to the bots.

Eye of the beholder: Portrait of Lindsay Lohan in the style of Claude Monet (1840–1926) 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.

Eye of the prompt 1.0: An AI generated portrait of Lindsay Lohan by ChatGPT imagined in "drip painting style", this one using an interpretation which overlaid "curated drips" over "flung paint".  This could be rendered using Ms Harrison's Jackson Pollock Box but would demand some talent.

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.

Eye of the prompt 1.1: An AI generated portrait of Lindsay Lohan by ChatGPT imagined in "drip painting style", this one closer to Pollock’s “action painting” technique.

His drip period wholly non-representational, Pollock didn’t produce recognizable portraiture so applying the technique for this purpose demands guesswork.  As AI illustrates, it can be done but, in blending two incompatible modes, whether it looks much like what Pollock would have produced had he accepted a “paint Lindsay Lohan” commission, is wholly speculative.  What is more likely is that even if some sort of hybrid, a portrait by Pollock would have been an abstraction altogether more chaotic and owing little to the structure on which such works usually depend in that there probably would have been no central focal point, fewer hints of symmetry and a use of shading producing a face not lineal in its composition.  That’s what his sense of “continuous motion” dictated: no single form becoming privileged over the rest.  So, this too is not for the literalists schooled in the tradition of photo-realism but as a work it’s also an example of how most armed with Ms Harrison's Jackson Pollock Box could with "drip & fling" produce this but not necessarily would produce this, chaos on canvas needing talent too.

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 stuff as diverse as math 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 execution or engineering can be forgiven, sometimes to the point they become part of the charm.  New York’s MoMA in 1972 acknowledged 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 (informally sometimes as XKE or XK-E in the US) 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 International Motor Show (now defunct but, on much the same basis as manufacturers east of Suez buying brand-names such as MG, Jaguar and such, the name has been purchased for use by an event in staged in Qatar) when the E-Type made its stunning debut and part of 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 to this day many 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 would prefer it in BRG (British Racing Green) over tan leather) and although as a piece of design it's not flawless (indeed, at some angles (notably three-quarter, rear), the two variants of the coupé can look gawky), anyone who can't see the beauty in a Series 1 E-Type OTS truly is ultracrepidarian.   

Cipher

Cipher (pronounced sahy-fer)

(1) Zero (archaic).

(2) Any of the Arabic numerals or figures (historic use only).

(3) To use figures or numerals arithmetically (historic use only).

(4) To write in or as in cipher.

(5) To calculate numerically; figure (historic use only).

(6) To convert into cipher.

(7) A numeric character (historic use only).

(8) Any text character (historic use only).

(9) A combination or interweaving of letters, as the initials of a name; a device; a monogram.

(10) A method of transforming a text in order to conceal its meaning.

(11) In cryptography, a system using an algorithm that converts letters or sequences of bits into cipher-text.

(12) A grouping of three digits in a number, especially when delimited by commas or periods.

(13) In music, a fault in an organ valve which causes a pipe to sound continuously without the key having been pressed.

(14) In music, slang for a hip-hop jam session (although some etymologists thing this is wholly unrelated to cipher’s accepted lineage.

(15) The path (usually vaguely circular) shared cannabis takes through a group.

(16) Someone or something of no importance.

(17) As cipher.exe, an external filter command in some versions of Microsoft operating systems, used to encrypt and decrypt data on drives using HPFS (High-Performance File System & NTFS (New Technology File System).

Late 1300s: From the Middle English siphre & cifre, from the Old French cyfre & cyffre (nought, zero) (which endures in Modern French as chiffre) from the Medieval Latin cifra & ciphra, (like the Spanish and Italian cifra), ultimately from the Arabic صِفْر‎ (ṣifr) (zero, empty), from صَفَرَ‎ (ṣafara) (to be empty), a loan-translation of the Sanskrit śūnyā-s (empty) The alternative spelling is cypher.  The word came to Europe in the twelfth century with the arrival of Arabic numerals.  Meaning first "zero", by the fifteenth century it had come to mean "any numeral" and then, following the use in French & Italian, "secret way of writing; coded message", a sense which in English emerged by the 1520s, the origin of the shift being the early diplomatic codes, often creations which substituted numbers for letters.  The meaning "the key to a cipher or secret writing" was by 1885 short for “cipher key”, a phrase in use since 1835.  Drawing from the sense of “zero”, the figurative sense of "something or someone of no value, consequence, or power" dates from the 1570s.

The verb in the sense of “doing arithmetic" (with Arabic numerals) emerged in the 1520s and was derived from the noun while the transitive sense (reckon in figures, cast up) was first noted in 1860 and the specific sense of a cipher code being something which might be associated with the occult characters was first attested in 1563.  The verb decipher (an obviously essential companion to cipher) in the 1520s had a now obsolete meaning in mathematics (find out, discover) but by the 1540s it meant "interpret” in the sense of rendering a coded message (a cipher) back into the language or origin by use of a cipher-key.  It may, at least in part, be a loan-translation from the French déchiffrer.  From circa 1600, it moved beyond the literal to the transferred sense of "discover or explain the meaning of what is difficult to understand", the sense of "succeed in reading what is written in obscure or partially obliterated characters" used by 1710.  Cipher is a noun & verb; ciphering is a noun; the noun plural is ciphers.

German Enigma M4 encryption machine.  Introduced for commercial purposes in 1923, it was used by the German Navy from 1926, all branches of the service adopting it by 1935.  Built initially with three rotors, a fourth was added in 1941.

Although used by the Wehrmacht (the German armed forces) throughout the war, work by Polish mathematicians, aided by French intelligence, had enabled Polish cryptographers to break the codes and thus read German military traffic between 1932-1938, at which point additional layers of complexity were added.  In 1939, as war approached, the Poles passed their work to the allies where the code-breaking continued, culminating in the “Ultra” decrypts which would be of such value during the war.

The text "Lindsay Lohan" encrypted using different ciphers:

Standard Vigenère cipher: Nzlslig Nffpg
Beaufort cipher: Rjlmbik Rdrpg
Variant Beaufort cipher: Jrpozsq Jxjlu
Trithemius cipher: Ljpgwfe Swqky

In the decryption process, the British made some of the first use at scale of electronic computers and so secret was the project regarded that the protocols of the existing highest level of secrecy in the machinery of government, “Most Secret”, was thought inadequate and “Ultra Secret” was thus created with a tiny distribution list.  Also deployed was the coat-and-dagger trick of the misleading code-name Boniface, used in a way to convey the impression the British had a master spy they called “Boniface” controlling a network of spies throughout the political, military and industrial structures of the Reich.  The ruse proved successful, the OKM (Oberkommando der Marine; the German naval high command) never taking seriously the suggestion their codes had been broken, instead repeatedly combing their organisation for spies.  The existence of the British code-breaking project and the volume and importance of the Ultra decrypts to the war effort wasn’t widely known until an (at times misleading) account was published  in 1974 in The Ultra Secret by a former RAF (Royal Air Force) officer, FW Winterbotham (1897-1990).  Although criticised in detail, what was revealed did compel a re-evaluation of some of the conclusions drawn by historians about political and military matters during the war.

Superbird

Superbird (pronounced soo-per-burd)

(1) A single-season (1970) version of the Plymouth Road Runner with certain aerodynamic enhancements, built to fulfil homologation requirements for use in competition.

(2) A one-off Falcon XA GT built by Ford Australia for the motor show circuit in 1973.

(3) A series of 700-odd XA Falcon Hardtops (RPO77) built by Ford Australia in 1973.

1969: The construct was super + bird.  The Middle English super was a re-purposing of the prefix super-, from the Latin super, from the Proto-Italic super, from the primitive Indo-European upér (over, above) and cognate with the Ancient Greek ὑπέρ (hupér).  In this context, it was used as an adjective suggesting “excellent quality, better than usual; wonderful; awesome, excellent etc.  Bird was from the Middle English bird & brid, from the Old English bridd (chick, fledgling, chicken).  The origin was a term used of birds that could not fly (chicks, fledglings, chickens) as opposed to the Old English fugol (from which English gained the modern “fowl”) which was the general term for “flying birds”.  From the earlt to mid-fourteenth century, “bird” increasingly supplanted “fowl” as the most common term.  Superbird is a noun; the noun plural is Superbirds and an initial capital is appropriate for all (standard) uses because Superbird is a product name.  If used as hoc for some other purposes, it should probably be without the initial capital.

Of super- and supra-

The super- prefix was a learned borrowing of the Latin super-, the prefix an adaptation of super, from the Proto-Italic super, from the primitive Indo-European upér (over, above) and cognate with the Ancient Greek ὑπέρ (hupér).  It was used to create forms conveying variously (1) an enhanced sense of inclusiveness, (2) beyond, over or upon (the latter notable in anatomy where the a super-something indicates it's "located above"), (3) greater than (in quantity), (4) exceptionally or unusually large, (5) superior in title or status (sometimes clipped to "super"), (6) of greater power or potency, (7) intensely, extremely or exceptional and (8) of supersymmetry (in physics).  The standard antonym was “sub” and the synonyms are listed usually as “on-, en-, epi-, supra-, sur-, ultra- and hyper-” but both “ultra” and “hyper-” have in some applications been used to suggest a quality beyond that implied by the “super-” prefix.  In English, there are more than a thousand words formed with the super- prefix.  The supra- prefix was a learned borrowing from the Latin suprā-, the prefix an adaptation of the preposition suprā, from the Old Latin suprād & superā, from the Proto-Italic superād and cognate with the Umbrian subra.  It was used originally to create forms conveying variously (1) above, over, beyond, (2) greater than; transcending and (3) above, over, on top (in anatomy thus directly synonymous with super) but in modern use supra- tends to be differentiated in that while it can still be used to suggest “an enhanced quality or quantity”, it’s now more common for it to denote physical position or placement in spatial terms.

Superbirds of the northern & southern hemispheres

1969 Dodge Daytona (red) & 1970 Plymouth Road Runner Superbird (blue).

The Plymouth Superbird was a "homologation special" built only for the 1970 model year.  By the mid-1950s, various race categories sanctioned by NASCAR (National Association for Stock Car Auto Racing) had become popular with both competitors and audiences, something which induced the manufacturers, more or less openly, to provide resources to the teams running their products.  This had started modestly enough with the supply of parts and technical assistance but so tied up with prestige did success become that some created competition departments and, officially and not, ran teams or provided so much financial support that effectively they functioned as factory operations.  NASCAR had begun as a "stock" car series in the literal sense that the first cars used were "showroom stock" with only minimal modifications but that didn't last long, cheating soon rife and in the interests of spectacle (ie higher speeds and thus more crashes), certain "performance enhancements" were permitted although the rules were always intended to maintain the original spirit of using cars which were "close" to those sold from the showroom floor.

Lindsay Lohan, as a superbird: generative AI (artificial intelligence) rendering by Stable Diffusion.

Despite NASCAR's efforts, the cheating didn't stop although the teams became more adept in its practice and one model produced by Chrysler's Dodge division typified the way manufactures worked within the homologation rules to game the system.  The rules (having to build and sell a minimum number of a certain model in that specification) had been intended to restrict the use of cars to “volume production” models available to the general public but in 1956 Dodge did a special run of what it called the D-500 (an allusion to the number which had to built to be “legal” under NASCAR regulations).  Finding a loophole in the interpretation of the word “option” the D-500 appeared in the showrooms with a V8 rated at a then impressive 260 HP (horsepower).  Distinguished by crossed-flag “500” emblems on the hood (bonnet) and trunk (boot) lid, the model was Dodge’s high-performance offering for the season and had things been left at that, it wouldn't have been in any way exceptional.  However, the trickery lay in the option list, knowledgeable buyers able to "tick the box" for the D-500-1 (or DASH-1) option, which made one's D-500 close to race-ready and, to ensure eligibility in NASCAR’s various competitions, it could be ordered as a two-door sedan, hardtop or convertible.  In its default configuration with dual four-barrel carburetors, the D-500-1's 315 cubic inch (5.2 litre) V8 thought to produce around 285 HP but more significant was the inclusion of heavy-duty suspension and braking components, more valuable on the circuits than additional power.  It was a successful endeavour which both triggered an "arms race" between the manufacturers and intensified the ongoing battle with the NASCAR regulators who did not wish to see their series transformed into something contested by specialized racing cars which bore only a superficial resemblance to the “showroom stock”.  Well before the 2020s, it was obvious NASCAR had surrendered to the inevitable but more than a decade, the battle raged.

Evening (The Fall of Day) (1869–1870), charcoal, crayon), oil & graphite on canvas by English-born US artist William Rimmer (1816–1879), Museum of Fine Arts Boston, Massachusetts.

That someone ran a Stable Diffusion prompt to depict Lindsay Lohan with wings is in the long tradition of winged humans, something in the imagination at least since the tale of Ικαρος (Icarus) was told in the mythology of Antiquity.  In the best-known version, Icarus was the son of Daedalus and one of Minos' slaves called Naucrate and it was when Daedalus explained to Ariadne how Theseus could find a way to escape the Labyrinth, so enraged was Minos he imprisoned Daedalus and his son in the structure.  Undeterred, Daedalus took fallen feathers and fashioned wings for them both, applying wax to fix them to their shoulders; a cautious parent, Daedalus warned Icarus to fly neither too close to the ground nor too near the sun.  Icarus however was headstrong and, finding the power of flight intoxicating, soared higher and higher until he was so close to the sun the heat melted the wax, disintegrating his wings; no longer a superbird, he fell into the sea around the island of Samos and drowned.  As a tribute, the sun god Helios called the body of water the Ικάριο Πέλαγος (Ikario Pelagos) (Icarian Sea), the name still used of the stretches of the Aegean between the Cyclades and Asia Minor (the modern-day Türkiye Cumhuriyeti (Republic of Türkiye, still often referred to as Turkey)).  Other versions from Antiquity have him drowning in nautical accidents but generally his name is used as a cautionary tale about the consequences of not heeding the advice of those who know better although, curiously, there’s also the odd reference to him having invented woodwork and carpentry.  In Rimmer’s evocative drawing, the model has always been presumed to be the doomed Icarus but the artist may also have had in mind the fallen angel Lucifer, the imagery of a prideful descent perhaps influenced by John Milton’s (1608–1674) Paradise Lost (1667) or Dante Alighieri’s (circa 1265–1321) Divina Commedia (Divine Comedy (circa 1310-1321)).

LP (long playing) album label for Led Zeppelin’s Presence (1976), issued by Atlantic Recording Corporation on the Swansong label.

The English graphic art production house Hipgnosis (best known for album covers which were (in the pre-CD (compact disc) era) for a quarter century-odd a vibrant part of the pop-art world) used Rimmer’s Evening as a model for the logo of Swan Song Records, set up in 1974 by the English band Led Zeppelin (1968-1974) after the expiration of their distribution contract with Atlantic Records (which anyway handled the distribution of Swan Song’s products).  The idea was to combine the imagery of Rimmer with the wings of a white swan and the notion of “songs”.  At the time, the popular music business substantially was controlled by the major labels and Swan Song was one of a number of (usually short-lived) labels created in an attempt to give musicians who could not secure a recording contract a way of having their output reach audiences.  Although the label remains active for the purposes of re-issuing older material, after the surviving members of Led Zeppelin disbanded in 1980, there were only spasmodic releases until in 1983 it was announced active operations would cease and no new contracts would be executed.

1970 Plymouth Superbird (left) and 1969 Dodge Daytona (right). Despite the obvious conceptual and visual similarities, it's when two are seen in close proximity (especially in profile) that the differences become more obvious, the Superbird's nose-cone less pointed, the rear wing higher with a rake more acute.  

By 1969, NASCAR's regulators had fine-tuned their rules restricting engine power and, further to "equalize" things, had mandated minimum weights.  Scope for innovation was thus limited so manufacturers turned to the then less policed field of aerodynamics, ushering what came to be known as the "aero-cars" and it was an era when the discipline had become suddenly fashionable, wings and spoilers sprouting on the cars used in Formula One and the Can-Am (the wonderful series for (Group 7) unlimited displacement sports cars) although initially, Chrysler's approach had been a modest "tweaking" rather than a radical alteration of the lines.  When the aerodynamics of the sleek-looking 1968 Charger proved to be unexpectedly inefficient, Dodge for 1969 modified the most suspect areas at the front and rear, "smoothing out" the air-flow and labelling the result the "Charger 500" in a nod to the NASCAR homologation rules which demanded for eligibility the production of 500 mechanically identical cars.  However, unlike the quite subtle modifications which proved so successful for Ford’s Torino Talladega and Mercury’s Cyclone Spoiler, what was done to created the 500 did not resolve the issues so production ceased after 392 were built.  Dodge solved the problem of the missing 108 needed for homologation purposes by subsequently introducing a different "Charger 500" which was just a trim level and nothing to do with homologation but, honor apparently satisfied on both sides, NASCAR turned to the telescope the same blind eye chosen when it became clear Ford with the Talladega and Cyclone Spoiler had also "bent the rules" a bit.

The rear wings (like the nosecone, the units on the Daytona and Superbird were not interchangeable) genuinely were there for the aerodynamic advantage they conferred but there were possibilities for repurposing.  Most of the photographs (left) of “washing hanging out to dry” from a wing were staged for comic effect but, between events, racing drivers really would use the structure as a place to air sweaty race overalls while for photographers, amateurs and professionals alike, the wings also proved an irresistible prop which could be adorned with decorative young ladies.  Had OnlyFans existed in the era, it can be guaranteed some content providers would have been juxtaposed against a Superbird’s wing.

Not discouraged by the 500's aerodynamic recalcitrance, Dodge recruited engineers from Chrysler's aerospace & missile division (which was being shuttered because Richard Nixon's (1913-1994; US VPOTUS 1953-1961 & POTUS 1969-1974) détente era had arrived and the US & Soviet Union were beginning their arms-reduction programmes) and quickly created the Daytona, adding to the 500 a protruding nosecone and high wing at the rear.  As successful on the track as the scale-models had been in the wind-tunnel, this time the required 500 really were built (a reported 503 leaving the line).  Not best-pleased, NASCAR responded by again moving the goalposts, requiring manufacturers to build one example of each vehicle for at least half their registered dealers (exclusive or shared) so, there at the time being a reported 3832 franchised Plymouth dealers in the US, duly the company built a reported 1935 Road Runner Superbirds (although NASCAR apparently stopped counting once they'd verified the existence of the 1920 which satisfied their rules).  It was an exercise probably more expensive for Plymouth than Dodge because it's believed neither division made any profit on their "homologation cars" and some claim each was invoiced to dealers at a loss.  Now more unhappy than ever, NASCAR lawyered-up and drafted rules which included restricting the aero cars to an engine displacement of 5.0 litre (305 cubic inch) while permitting the rest of the field to run the full 7.0 litres (427 cubic inch); this rendered the aero-cars uncompetitive and their brief, shining moment ended.

Blondes have more fun: Emelia Hartford (b 1993) and her 1970 Plymouth Superbird at the Goodyear San Angelo Proving Grounds.  Before her restoration efforts, it had for 30 years sat neglected.

The estimable Emelia Hartford both builds and races cars and in 2025 she took a fully-restored NASCAR race Superbird to the high-speed test track at Goodyear’s San Angelo Proving Grounds facility in Texas.  Although in 1970 the boffins at Chrysler had studied their slide-rules and calculated that, in NASCAR-spec, a Superbird could not, even under ideal conditions, achieve 220 mph (354 km/h), it was an age of empiricists and nobody would be convinced until the rubber hit the road.  The numbers really did come from slide-rules and pencil & paper because, although engineers were by then using computers (they took up entire rooms), for many calculations, the old ways produced results more quickly.  Ms Hartford has a presence on YouTube and among her viewers must be some of Goodyear’s staff because somewhere in the corporate memory was jogged the recollection of the day, all those years ago, when a NASCAR Superbird had not quite hit the 220 mph mark.  Goodyear thus extended Ms Hartford an invitation to the proving grounds to see if it really was possible; it transpired the slide-rule operators had, more than a half century earlier, been right, the restored Superbird achieving 211 mph (340 km/h).

1969 Ford Torino Sportsroof (left), 1969 Ford Torino Talladega (centre) and 1970 Ford Torino Sportsroof (left).  What Ford did for its aero cars was much less dramatic than what Chrysler's missile engineers concocted but the modifications proved remarkable effective.  The 1970 Torino (the design language of which Ford Australia adopted for the Falcon Hardtop (1972-1978)), although it look sleek and the racing teams were promised “specific efficiencies”, proved less slippery than the Talladega so team managers for some time continued to use the older platform.

Given more power than they had when run in NASCAR spec, the aero cars could go faster but Ford’s experiments had proved what their calculations had suggested: above 190 mph, it would take an additional 50 HP to achieve an additional 3 mph (5 km/h) but an even greater increase would be realized simply by slightly altering the shape of the nose, lowering the leading edge by about an inch (25mm).  Under the rules, it was impossible to gain 50 HP but the rhinoplasty, although at a glance imperceptible to the untrained eye, successfully delivered the improved performance of the Talladega and Cyclone Spoiler.  The point was emphasised when in 1971 one of the Daytonas just rendered unlawful by NASCAR was taken to the Bonneville Salt Flats where it was used to set 28 USAC (United States Auto Club) & FIA (Fédération Internationale de l'Automobile, the International Automobile Federation) world speed records.  Although modified to produce more power and fitted with low-drag tyres and a very tall (ie numerically low) final drive ratio, even under Bonneville’s ideal conditions, the top speeds recorded were 216.465 mph (348.367) over a flying mile and 217.368 (349.820) over a flying kilometre.  Ms Hartford's 211 mph run was thus both impressive and in line with expectations but more may have been possible because, as the NASCAR teams discovered, fitting simple "smooth" fibreglass covers atop the A-pillars delivered a precious 1 mph (1.6 km/h).

The graphic for the original Road Runner (1968, left) and the version used for the Superbird (1970, right).  The image was used under licence from Warner Brothers, as was the distinctive "meep-meep" tone of the horn (the horn button on the steering wheel actually read "beep beep"), the engineering apparently as simple as replacing the aluminium strands in the mechanism with copper windings.  The fee for the cartoon character was US$50,000 with the rights to the "beep-beep" invoiced at a further US$10,000; both proved sound investments.  

Discounted Superbird, 1970.  When new, the seriously weird looking machines often lingered on lots and deals had to be done; nobody could have anticipated what they'd become a half-century on.

So extreme in appearance were the cars (at certain angles, distinctly they were ungainly) they proved at the time sometimes hard to sell and as well as being heavily discounted, some were converted back to the standard Road Runner specification by dealers anxious to get them out of the showroom (a generation on, some Volkswagen dealers resorted to the same approach after US buyers proved less attracted to the Harlequin Golfs than Europeans had been to the Harlekin Polos).  Views changed over time and they're now much sought by collectors, the record known price paid for a Superbird being US$1,650,000 for one of the 135 fitted with the 426 Street Hemi.  Despite the Superbirds having been produced in some four times the quantity of Daytonas, as collectables, they're treated as interchangeable with the determinates of price (all else being equal) being (1) engine specification (the Hemi-powered models the most desirable followed by the 6-BBL Plymouths (there were no Six-Pack Daytonas built) and then the 4 barrel 440s), (2) transmission (those with a manual gearbox attracting a premium) and (3) the usual combination of mileage, condition and originality.  Mapped on to that equation is the variable of who happens to be at an auction on any given day, something unpredictable.  That was demonstrated in August 2024 when a highly optioned Daytona in the most desirable configuration achieved US$3.36 million at Mecum’s auction in Monterey, California.

1969 Plymouth Road Runner advertisement.

The US$3.36 million achieved generated headlines on sites where such things are discussed, but what attracted the interest of amateur sociologists was the same Daytona had in May 2022 sold for US$1.3 million when offered by Mecum in an auction at the Indiana State Fairgrounds.  The US$1.3 million was at the time the highest price then paid for a Hemi Daytona (of the 503 built, only 70 were fitted with the Hemi and of those, only 22 had the four-speed manual) and the increase in value by some 250% was obviously the result of something other than the inflation rate.  The consensus was that although the internet had made just about all markets inherently global, local factors can still influence both the buyer profile and their behaviour, especially in the hothouse environment of a live auction.  Those who frequent California’s central coast between Los Angeles and San Francisco include a demographic not typically found in the mid-west and among other distinguishing characteristics there are more rich folk, able to spend US$3.36 million on a half-century old car they’ll probably never drive between purchase and a return to the auction circuit.  That’s how the collector market works, the cars now essentially the same sort of commodity as certain paintings; it's not that cars are art (although New York's MoMA (Museum of Modern Art) has a few on permanent exhibit including an early Jaguar E-Type (XKE, 1961-1974)) but the market structures and dynamics are more similar than they are different.

1970 Plymouth Hemi Superbird in TorRed over Black vinyl.  Between 2022-2025, its realized value fell by some US$1.2 million.

Still, it's a volatile market and some who “overpaid” by buying in a “peak market” have booked considerable losses when compelled to sell at a time when demand proved less buoyant.  Although the aero-cars are among the more collectable Mopars, they remain a traded commodity and about such things, all that can be guaranteed about their value is: “it will fluctuate”.  In 2025, a Hemi Superbird sold at auction for US$418,000 which, given its condition and specification, was at the lower end of expectations but in 2022, the same machine had gone over the block for US$1.65 million.  The loss booked was thus US$1.2 million-odd or around 75%, neither of those numbers encouraging for collectors and immediately, the conspiracy theorists began offering explanations involving the interplay of tax deductions, charitable donations and such.  There are of course cases where losses even greater in magnitude can be imagined; the early 1 Gb USB sticks sold for US$199.00 and were an immaculate, unused example still in its original blister pack to be offered for sale in 2026, the nominal loss would be greater than 75%.  Still, “vintage” USB sticks are not (yet) a collectable and most who buy Superbirds don’t expect to suffer depreciation.

The Buick Skylark Grand Sport which in 1965 didn't become a Superbird.

Plymouth paid Warner Brothers US$50,000 to licence the trademarked image of the bird but “Superbird” was free to use which must have been pleasing, the avian reference an allusion to the big wing at the rear.  Curiously, had Buick a half-decade earlier decided to pursue what seems in retrospect a “sales department thought bubble”, Plymouth would have had to come up with something else because in 1965 Buick did run a one-off advertisement for their new Skylark GS (Grand Sport, the marque’s well-manicured toe in the muscle car water) with the copy headed “Superbird”.  It may seem strange Buick had been tempted by the muscle car business because, by the time the rungs of Alfred P Sloan’s (1875–1966; president of General Motors (GM) 1923-1937 and Chairman of the Board 1937-1946) "Sloan ladder" were in the 1940 finalized, Buick was second only to Cadillac in the five-step GM (General Motors) corporate hierarchy with Chevrolet at the bottom, followed by Pontiac and Oldsmobile.  However, the unexpected success the year earlier of Pontiac’s GTO had proved an irresistible temptation: there were profits to be made.  As it was, Cadillac was the only GM division in the era not to sell a muscle car.

1936 Buick Century.

Debatably, the Buick Century was the "first muscle car" and although in the mid 1930s some fanciful names appeared, it's unlikely anyone within GM would have thought of "Road Runner" or "Superbird", "Century" (denoting the 100 mph (160 km/h) speed all were able to achieve) thought both distinctive and informative.  The definition of “muscle car” is by some contested with the only consensus seemingly that none accept it can encompass FWD (front-wheel-drive), despite Cadillac in 1970 rating the Eldorado's 500 cubic inch (8.2 litre) V8 at at stellar 400 HP which was 25 more than Ford claimed for the Boss 429 Mustang which used a slightly detuned racing engine.  Ford of course had reasons to under-rate the stated output of the Boss 429 but it remains an amusing comparison.  The definition most prefer is: “a big engine from a big, heavy car installed in a smaller, lighter car” and although in 1936 the improvement in the economy remained patchy (and would soon falter), Buick rang in the changes, re-naming its entire line.  The new Century was a revised revised version of the model 60, created by replacing the 233 cubic inch (3.8 litre) straight eight with the 320 cubic inch (5.2 litre) unit from the longer, heavier Roadmaster.  Putting big engines into small cars was nothing new and during the interwar years some had taken the idea to extremes, using huge aero-engines, but those tended to be one-offs for racing or LSR (land speed record) attempts.  In Europe, (slightly) larger engines were sometimes substituted and British manufacturers often put six cylinder power-plants where once there had been a four but their quest was usually for smoothness and refinement rather than outright speed and the Century was really the first time a major manufacturer had used the concept in series production.  Many now acknowledge the Century as the LCA (last common ancestor) of the muscle cars which in the 1960s came to define the genre.

1970 Buick GSX 455 Stage 1.  It was available only in two colors and of the 678 built, 491 were Saturn Yellow and 197 Apollo White, the names topical because the Apollo moon missions of the era missions were launched using Saturn V rockets.

The model which in 1965 Buick seemingly flirted with promoting as the “Superbird” was the Skylark Grand Sport, built on the corporate intermediate A-Body shared with Chevrolet, Pontiac & Oldsmobile.  In its first season the Grand Sport was an option rather than a model and it used the 401 cubic inch (6.6 litre) Buick “Nailhead” V8 which technically violated GM’s corporate edict placing a 400 cubic inch displacement limit on engines in intermediates but this was “worked around” by “rounding down” to 400 for purposes of documentation and for that there was a (sort of) precedent; earlier Pontiac’s 336 cubic inch (5.5 litre) V8 contravened another GM rule and PMD (Pontiac Motor Division) solved that problem by claiming the capacity was really 326 (5.3) with the GM board again turning a blind eye for as long as it took for the foundry to organize the downsizing.  The Grand Sport option proved a success and for 1967 the package was elevated to a model as the GS 400, Buick’s new big-block engine a genuine 400 cid (there were also small-block Skylark GSs appropriately labelled GS 340 and later GS 350) and on the sales charts it continued to perform well, but, being a Buick, its appearance was more restrained than the muscle cars from the competition (including those from other GM divisions) so it tended to be overshadowed.  In 1968, that began to changed when the “Stage 1” option was introduced as a dealer-installed option.  What this did was increase power and torque, optimizing the delivery of both for quarter-mile (402 m) sprints down drag strips and as a proof-of-concept exercise (in terms of market demand), it worked and in 1969 the Stage 1 package appeared on the factory’s official option list.  When tested, it performed (on the drag strip) so well it was obvious the official output numbers were under-stated but things really clicked the next year when Buick enlarged the V8 to 455 cubic inches (7.5 litre), delivering 510 lb⋅ft (691 Nm) of torque, the highest rating in the industry.  It's often claimed Detroit wouldn't top this until the second generation Dodge Viper (ZB I, 2003-2006) debuted with its V10 enlarged to 506 cubic inches (8.3 litres) but the early 472 (1968) & 500 (1970) cubic inch (7.7 & 8.2 litre) Cadillac V8s were rated respectively at 525 lb⋅ft (712 Nm) & 550 lb⋅ft (746 Nm).

1970 Buick GSX brochure.

Buick in 1970 made available the GSX “Performance and Handling Package” which added a hefty US$1,100 to the GS 455’s base price US$3,098, a factor in it attracting only 678 buyers, 400 of whom ordered the “Stage 1” option.  In this context, use of the word “stage” was unusual but, like the color choices, that too was an allusion to the space program, the big Saturn V rockets divided into “stages”.  Although Buick buyers had for years overwhelmingly purchased cars with automatic transmission, the GSX was a Buick of a different flavor and this was reflected 199 of them being sold with the optional four-manual; clearly the GSX was attracting the much sought “conquest buyers” (ie those who usually purchased another brand).  Presumably, whether or not “conquests” most buyers presumably were content because the straight-line performance was impressive; while the GSX didn't possess the ability of genuine race-bred engines like the Chrysler Street Hemi, Ford Boss 429 or the most lusty of the big-block Chevrolets effortlessly to top 140 mph (225 km/h), on the drag strip, the combination of the prodigious low-speed torque and relatively light weight meant it could be a match for just about anything.  The use of “Stage 1” of course implied there would be at least a “Stage 2” (a la Pontiac’s Ram Air II, III etc) but the world was changing and only a handful of "Stage 2" components were assembled and shipped to dealers.  While both the GSX and Stage 1 would live until 1972, 1970 would be peak Buick muscle.

1967 Dodge Coronet R/T advertisement.

Another footnote to the tale is that in 1967, months before Plymouth released the Road Runner, Dodge (Plymouth’s corporate stable-mate) published an advertisement for the Coronet R/T (Road/Track) which must have been ticked off by the legal department because cleverly it included the words “road” and “runner” arranged in such as way a viewer would read them as “Road Runner” without them appearing in a form which might have attracted a C&D (cease & desist letter) from Warner Brothers.  Obviously, the tie-in with Road/Track was the idea of a machine suited both to street and competition use and the agency must have congratulated themselves but the satisfaction would have been brief because within hours of the advertisement appearing in magazines on newsstands, Chrysler’s corporate marketing division instructed Dodge to “pull the campaign”.  By then, Plymouth’s plans for the surprise release in a few months of the appropriately licensed “Road Runner” were well advanced and they didn’t want any thunder stolen.  The Dodge advertisement remained a one-off but the division must have wished they’d thought of using “Road Runner” themselves because the Super Bee (their later take on the Road Runner's "stripped down, low cost" concept) only ever sold a quarter of the volume of Plymouth’s original; it pays to be first but a flaky name like “Super Bee” can’t have helped.  Subsequently, the names Road Runner & Roadrunner (the latter which, without the initial capital, is the taxonomic term for the bird (genus Geococcyx and known also as chaparral birds or chaparral cocks) Warner Brothers' Wile E. Coyote could never quite catch) have been used for products as varied as a Leyland truck, sports teams, computer hardware & software and a number of publications.

Don't mess with popular and respected birds.

However, just because Chrysler’s lawyers dotted the i's and crossed the t's with Warner Brothers didn’t mean their involvement with the Plymouth Road Runner was done.  Shortly after the Road Runner was released late in 1967, the corporate office became aware “...certain Chrysler-Plymouth Division dealers in the Southwest [were] using live Roadrunner birds in local sales promotions and offering cash rewards for the capture of live specimens.”  That would at the time have seemed to dealers just a clever marketing gimmick but consulted, the legal department determined it was “...against Federal Law to hunt, capture kill, sell or offer to purchase a nonautomotive Roadrunner.”  Further to clarify, it was added Roadrunners were “…none-game birds classified as national resources and protected by Federal and International law.”  Who knew?  In the C&D letter Chrysler-Plymouth's public relations manager circulated to all dealers, the cultural significance was also mentioned, the Roadrunner described as a “...popular and respected bird... particularly in New Mexico where it is honored as the state's official bird.”  Accordingly, the corporate directive banned “...any future use of live Roadrunners in promotional activities.”

1970 Plymouth Road Runner with a Warner Brothers' interpretation of the genus Geococcyx in fibreglass.

So using live examples of the “popular and respected bird” was out but the marketing department wasn’t deterred and for promotional purposes later arranged production in fibreglass of large representations of the cartoon bird, designed to emerge, grinning and wide-eyed through the hood (bonnet) scoop which Chrysler called the “air-grabber” because it did what it said on the tin: funnelled desirable cold air straight to the induction system (while "air grabber" might seem a bit brutish, in 1971 Plymouth briefly had called a variant of the idea the "Incredible Quivering Exposed Cold Air Grabber" but that didn't last (IQECAG one of history's less mnemonic initializms) and the hardware the improbable moniker described has only ever been known as the "shaker").  Being advertising, the large fibreglass birds owed much to the Warner Brothers depiction of the creature and little to how evolution had produced genus Geococcyx.  Some of the fibreglass promotional props survived to be exhibited protruding through a Road Runners air-grabber and die-cast models of the ensemble (car plus “popular and respected bird”) sometimes are available.

Australia's Ford Falcon Superbirds

1973 Ford XA Falcon GT Superbird, built for the show circuit and first shown at the Melbourne Motor Show in March 1973. 

Based on the then-current XA Falcon GT Hardtop, Ford Australia’s original Superbird was a one-off created for display at the 1973 Sydney and Melbourne Motor Shows, the purpose of the thing to distract attention from Holden’s new, four-door HQ Monaro model, a range added after the previous year’s limited production SS had generated sufficient sales for the “proof-of-concept” to be judged a success.  Such tactics are not unusual in commerce and Ford was responding to the Holden’s earlier release of the SS being timed deliberately to steal the thunder expected to be generated by the debut of the Falcon Hardtop.  Despite the SS in 1972 being so successful a second batch was needed to meet demand, for some reason GMH (General Motors Holden's) decided that when added as a regular-production model, it would use the "Monaro GTS" name which, since 1968, had been used exclusively of two-door hardtop coupés.  So, despite Chevrolet in the US having for a decade built an enviable "brand recognition" for the SS badge, Holden opted not to take advantage of being able to inherit the aura and instead dilute the value of the Monaro brand.  Even at the time it seemed a strange choice and tellingly, within a few years, after production of the Monaro coupés ended, the four door models were renamed simply "GTS".       

1973 Ford XA Falcon GT Superbird with model in ankle-length, sleeveless floral sheath maxi dress.  The model was Jill Goodall who in the 1970s appeared on the covers of Australian fashion magazines and in television & print advertising.  She worked also as an actor, including a role as a “harem girl” in the James Bond film The Spy Who Loved Me (1977).

Although it featured a new wool fabric (described in the press-kit as a "rough-blend") for the upholstery and a power-steering system with the rim-effort increased from 4 to 8 lbs (1.8 to 3.6 kg), mechanically, the Superbird show car was something of a “parts-bin special” in that it differed from a standard GT Hardtop mostly in the use of some of the components orphaned when the run of 250-odd (Phase 4) Falcon GTHOs in 1972 was cancelled after a Sydney tabloid newspaper had stirred a moral panic with one of their typically squalid and untruthful stories about the “160 mph [258 km/h] supercars” which soon would be sold to males aged 17-25 (always a suspect demographic in the eyes of a tabloid editor).  Apparently, it was a “slow news day” so the story got moved from the sports section at the back to the front page where the headline spooked the politicians who demanded manufacturers not proceed with the limited-production specials which existed only to satisfy the homologation rules for competition.  Resisting for only a few days, the manufacturers complied and within a week the nation’s regulatory body for motor sport announced the end of “series-production” racing; subsequently, the "production" cars used on the track would no longer need to be so closely related to those available in showrooms.

Ms Goodall with 1973 Ford XA Falcon GT Superbird.  The XA Hardtop's styling motifs were borrowed from the second generation Ford (US) Torino (1970-1971), a machine which, like the 1968 Dodge Charger, looked slippery but, when used at speed on the ovals, was found to induce rather more drag than had been hoped.  Although one German race-driver noted some "chassis flex" in the pillarless coupé, the Australian car's aerodynamics proved sound and the cars were stable on the circuits.  Contemporary tests of the road cars noted the XA GT Hardtop's top speed being some 8 mph (13 km/h) higher than an identically configured sedan, the gain attributed to (1) the reduced frontal area (the hardtop's roofline 2 inches (50 mm) than the sedan) and (2) the efficiency of the air flow over and around the rear section.  

The Falcon GT Superbird displayed at the motor shows in 1973 was a harbinger in that it proved something a “trial run” for future ventures in which parts intended solely for racing would be added to a sufficient number of vehicles sold to the public to homologate them for use on the circuits.  In that sense, the mechanical specification of the Superbird previewed some of what would later in the year be supplied (with a surprising amount of car-to-car variability) in RPO83 (regular production option 83) including the GTHO’s suspension settings, a 780 cfm (cubic feet per minute) carburetor, the 15” x 7” aluminium wheels, a 36 (imperial) gallon (164 litre) fuel tank and some of the parts designed for greater durability under extreme (ie race track) conditions.  Cognizant of the effect the tabloid press has on politicians, none of the special runs in the immediate aftermath of the 1972 moral panic included anything to increase performance.  However, while the details of the mechanical specification delighted the nerds, it was the large orange Superbird logo on the flanks which attracted most comment, the press-kit handed to journalists mentioning the "unique black shadows" which "highlighted its appearance".  Although nicely done, the black shadows professionally were hand-painted and not included in the full-sized decal which became available from Ford dealers in white (part-number XA-19C 600), black (XA-19C 600 B) & orange (XA-19C 600 C) at Aus$59 which may sound reasonable but the ABS (Australian Bureau of Statistics) reports that in the March quarter, 1973, average MFTWE (male full-time weekly earnings) were Aus$102.50.  Demand for the decal in any color was subdued and it was not long available.

Toned down: 1973 Ford Falcon 500 Hardtop with RPO77 (Superbird option pack) in Polar White with Cosmic Blue accents over white vinyl.

Most who saw the Superbird probably didn’t much dwell on the mechanical intricacies, taken more by the stylized falcon which extended three-quarters the length of the car.  It was the graphic which no doubt generated publicity in a way the specification sheet never could and as a "stick-on transparancy" it could be ordered from Ford dealers but so low was the take-up rate it was decided instead to capitalize on the success of the show car by releasing a production Superbird (known internally as RPO77) with the graphic scaled down to a mere 18 inches (450 mm) in length, applied to the rear quarters with an even smaller version on the glovebox lid.  In keeping with that restraint, RPO77 included only “dress-up” items and a 302 cubic inch (4.9 litre) V8 in the same mild-mannered state of tune as the versions sold to bank managers and such.  It was a much more modest machine than the Melbourne Motor Show car with its high-compression 351 (5.8) V8 so although not quite a "caged budgerigar compared to a hunting falcon", the messages conveyed by the respective avian graphics were in accord with the hardware.

1973 Ford XA Falcon Superbird in the Lime Glaze & Jewell Green combo over black vinyl.  The other available color combinations were Polar white / Cosmic Blue and Yellow Fire / Walnut Glow.

Still, as a package which offered a bundle of options at an substantial discount (nominally about 11%), RPO77's cost breakdown attracted buyers and did succeed in stimulating interest in the two-door Hardtop, sales of which had proved sluggish after the initial spike in 1972.  It seems of the 750 planned, some 700 were built and that all but 200 were fitted with an automatic transmission was an indication of the target market.  In Australia, the surviving Superbirds are now advertised for six figure (Aus$) sums while the surviving three Phase 4 GTHOs (the fourth was destroyed in a rally which sounds and improbable but it was said to have been competitive, only the sheer weight of the thing meaning the tyre's sidewalls were subject to frequent failure) command over a million.  Although RPO77 was purely an “appearance package”, the Superbird is a footnote in the homologation of the hardtop body for racing, Ford using the specification sheet provided to state motor vehicle registration authorities in their submission to CAMS (Confederation of Australian Motorsport, then the nation regulatory body for the sport).  The advantages in citing the Superbird as a base were (1) being built between March-May, 1973 the structure benefited from the changes to the rails and braces which didn’t appear on the earlier cars and (2) at 2910 lb (1320 KG), it was up to 210 lb (95 KG) lighter (depending on configuration) than the Falcon GT Hardtops which were basis of the vehicles actually used in racing.  Whether CAMS was deceived or was just anxious to accommodate isn’t clear but the certification was granted with the designation “Superbird” appearing in their published documentation.  That’s why it was common in press reports at the time for the racing RPO83 XA Hardtops to be referred to as “Superbirds” even though not one was based on a RPO77 Falcon.  

The original Superbird, unused image from a publicity photo session, Melbourne, 1973.  Built in August 1972, the Superbird was painted "Pearl Silver" and road-registered (LHA 614) in Victoria.  It was re-painted in its original "Wild Violet" before being sold (without the graphic).

As a nerdy footnote, the 302 V8 used in the RPO77 Superbirds was exclusive to Australia in being based on the Cleveland (335) engine which in the US was the basis only for 351 and 400 (6.6) versions.  The rationale for the Australians developing their unique "302 Cleveland" was one of production-line standardization, the local operation having never produced the Windsor line of V8s which by 1969 provided the US market with both 302 & 351 versions.  According to the convention in use at the time, the Australian engines could have been dubbed "302 Geelong" & "351 Geelong" (Geelong the city where the Ford foundry was located) but that was never adopted and both tend to be called "Australian Clevelands".  Creating the 302 Cleveland wasn't challenging or expensive and both the Australian engines were (with detail differences between them) a single-configuration compromise optimized for use on the street, eschewing use of the components which delivered improved top-end power (as fitted to some of the US engines) which worked well at high speed but was not ideal for street use where a progressive curve of low and mid-range torque is the most desired characteristic.

For the Superbird photo-shoot, as well as the floral maxi, Ms Goodall also donned some dresses with a shorter cut.  She had studied graphic design in Melbourne and after retiring from modelling, worked as a studio manager and photographer.  Now based in Germany and known professionally as Jill Seer, she has exhibited her work in European galleries.

What the Australian engineers did for their 351 was was combine the large (61-64 cm³) combustion chambers from the US "4V" heads (ie "4 venturi" indicating their use with a four barrel carburetor) with the smaller "2V" intake ports, the arrangement producing a good quench and air/fuel swirl through the ports, enhancing the low-to-mid range torque output.  The short-stroke Australian 302 was different in that it used a 56.4–59.4 cm³ combustion chamber in conjunction with the high-swirl, small ports.  That combination ("closed" combustion chamber & small ports) turned out to be a "sweet-spot" for street use which has made the Australian 302 heads a popular item for those in the US modifying 351s, the swap made possible by the shared bore and bolt pattern.  While in "heavy duty" use the Cleveland (335) suffered from fundamental flaws (excessive weight and limited lubrication channels), the canted-valve heads were right from day one, the reason why the 1969 Boss 302 (which put efficient Cleveland heads on the lighter, well-oiled Windsor block) was so highly regarded.  Although its sounds oxymoronic, Ford Australia really did market its 302 as "an economy V8" but that phrase needs to be read as something comparative rather than absolute, both the 302 & 351 even then regarded as "thirsty".