sniglets or the meaning of lyff

As the lexical progeny to Douglas Adams’ concept of a lyff—being a common object or experience, oddly often tied to a specific region or town, for which no term yet exists, sniglets, popularised by Rich Hall’s tenure as chief anchor on the 1980s spoof newscast Not Necessarily the News—as Tedium invites us to recall—were similarly described as any word that does not appear in the dictionary but should.
A few examples, in the lane of shared experiences, include: premblememblemation—the act of checking that a letter deposited in a mailbox has truly been done so in the correct fashion, icelanche—the sudden onslaught of ice from a beverage as one attempts to finish the drink, and aquadextrous—the ability to control the bathtub faucet and dials with one’s toes. Do you remember these? Like a lot of material from 1984, it does not seem to have aged very well and perhaps on the surface quite non-malleable, but I suspect there is some merit to playful neologisms and folk etymologies. I wonder, if the show’s writers had got to influence current nomenclature, what they would have called the selfie and doggo lingo.

le chant du monde

Early-career comparisons to Pablo Picasso are to be forgiven as he and fellow artist Jean Lurçat were virtual Dopplegänger and perhaps the albeit unique and pioneering abstract paintings of the later French artist and near-contemporary were passed over as derivative with Lurçat never achieving the renown of his Spanish counterpart, but the comparison (though importantly a point of access) does detract from the artistic merit of Lurçat’s later works, executed through his rediscovery of the medium of the medieval tapestry (tapisserie), and adhering to the craft’s stylistic horizons as much as possible. Limiting the palette of colours the artist availed himself of made monumental projects possible and after experiencing the Apocalypse Tapestry—for its depiction of the Book of Revelations—that the duke of Anjou had commissioned his residence in Angers, Lurçat realised that the format allowed for the hallucinatory abandon that he expressed in his earlier period when first decommissioned from fighting in the war.
Though off the battlefield, Lurçat and the members of his salon, a workshop of talent to operate the traditional looms and create the panels under Lurçat’s direction, were resisting tyranny in a multiple year, therapeutic catharsis that became The Song of the World, an abstract, contemporary to be inverted version of the Apocalypse, over-turned through a collective effort, hung in another wing of the same palace that displays the original. Learn more about Jean Lurçat and his vision at Messy Nessy Chic at the link up top.

your prize—a nubian goat

As a reminder to engage with story-telling more often—especially in its unmediated venues and within the limits the author limned for his voice—we really enjoyed this romp, via Coudal Partners, through the paperback canon of Philip K Dick with thirty-three picks of bizarre covers from domestic and international markets.
This curated selection represents only a small portion of his forty-four novels and scores of other pieces of essay and short-fiction and one has to wonder about what tales and commentary yet remain undiscovered because it won’t translate well to other narrative formats, with a handful (this or that and the other)—having undergone major rewrites and leaving much out—emerging on the other side. Sheep and goats were not considered a booby-prize either since after the nuclear apocalypse when the book is set that has destroyed most of life on earth, empathy towards and caring for animals was seen as a mark of the highest esteem and humanity.  Though knowing the story, I thought the title referred to something aspirational but rather to a Replicant’s need to count (electric) sheep to fall asleep.  Perchance to dream.  Do you have a favourite, perhaps of another author or franchise-universe, in this genre? Maybe these wild paperback illustrations mark the closest sometimes the unfilmable, impossible to produce adaptations get to a poster in the coming attractions section.

hark! a vagrant

We appreciated finding out about the long-term art project of Jenny Polak that makes the complacent classes perhaps take more notice of those in precarious situations—especially migrants who live in terror constantly that an immigration officer might bash the doors in and rip their family asunder. Like a floor-plan outlining a fire escape route, Polak’s series of posters tip people off on which paths to avoid during an ICE (US Immigration and Customs Enforcement) raid and struck us as the sociological and marginalised heir to the system of subtle markers that vagrants (hobos) developed in the late eighteen-hundreds to cope with the harshness of their existence and perhaps make the way less treacherous for those that follow.
Vagabonds (and perhaps those under the threat of deportation have done the same) contrived a vocabulary of symbols and signs to help orientate fellow travellers. For instance, a triangle with hands warned of a homeowner with a gun, interlocking circles represent handcuffs and the expectation to be arrested for vagrancy, a top-hat signifies a wealthy family and a picture of a cat meant that there was a kindly woman around these parts. I wonder if we might not advance a whole system of signs pointing to helpers to guide our imperilled community members, whatever their conferred status.