tuesday’s child

From a co-worker I learned that some people from Ghana, Togo and the Ivory Coast name their children after the day of the week on which they were born. The Akan, Ndyuka and Fanti peoples of the Guinea Coast of West Africa and diaspora believe these “day names” confer further meaning on the character of the person—comparable to the fortune-telling rhymes of English folk songs but imbued with far richer heritage.
The circumstances of one’s birth—such as precedence, order and special deliveries—can be further narrated through middle names. In the Twi dialect spoken in central Ghana, Monday is Ɛdwóada and is associated with peace and depth and gives us the male name Kwadwó and the female name Adwoa. The Latin epsilon sounds like the e in bed. Tuesday is Ɛbénada and is associated with the ocean and gives us the male name Kwabená and the female name Abenaa. Wukúada, Wednesday, is associated with the spider (the embodiment of ancestral knowledge and tales) and gives us the male name Kwakú. Thursday is Yáwóada is has its root in the word for Earth and gives us Yaw and Yaa. Friday is Efíada after fertility and gives us Kofí and Afua. Saturday, Méméneda, gives us Kwámè and Ama and is associated with the divine and Sunday, Kwasíada, gives us Kwasí and the female form Akosu and is associated with the Cosmos. Former United Nations Secretary-General Kofi Atta Annan was born on a Friday and his middle name indicates that he was a twin.

7x7

asterix and obelix: the comic book route of Brussels

mad libs: a handy template for Republican politicians to use for announcing their retirement

slot cars: a electrified stretch of road opens to traffic in Sweden which will recharge the batteries of electric vehicles as they drive down it, via Slashdot

stamina, fitness and skill: Pelle Cass’ compelling composite photography of athletic events capture the patterns of motions in sports

fluency: an artist explores the roots of language and consciousness through a vocabulary of personal hieroglyphics

saloon: a virtual cache of bar- and alcohol-related accessories and ephemera, via Weird Universe

b-side: an Austrian company developing high definition vinyl records, which can be played on existing turn-tables, will bring them to the market by 2019

homonymy

 Approaching the subject through the lens of Chinese customs that regale holiday gatherings with words that sound similar to those of good luck and fortune and eschewing those that rhyme with death, disease and ill-will, Nautilus contributor Julie Sedivy reprises an interesting essay that examines how language reveals in ambiguity and how we give meaning to our sounds that favour pun and entendre.
On a broad-scale, considering the number of speakers of Mandarin, Cantonese and English, one wonders how attraction and aversion and the density of definition influences our behavior and decision-making. Oh to be the sort of polyglot who could appreciate this nuance and make this sort of equivalent formulation but apparently because of the way that Chinese languages are constructed (phonetic real-estate is crowded) it would not be considered abnormal for a speaker not rely too heavily on context and spell out that they are dashing off to the bank—that is a financial institution and not the water’s edge—to get some money. What do you think? One would expect less ambiguity and greater precision, leaving less room for confusion, would be the better course of action linguistically but we seem to have a penchant for over-burdening our speech with a vagueness that we’ve become accustomed to, begging insight into the ways language and culture reflect the unplumbed architecture of cognition.

troxler fading

TYWKIWDBI introduces us to a curious optical illusion that occurs when one focuses at the single black dot in the centre of this image with the wash of colours surrounding it will disappear after about twenty seconds of uninterrupted staring. Click on the image to open it in a separate screen in case there is distracting marginalia on the page.  The visual effect which happens at least in part in the brain (and not in the eyes) was first identified and described by Viennese physician and philosopher Ignaz Paul Vital Troxler and is explained as the perceptual neurons (there are parallel effects for the other senses besides just sight) become inured to an unchanging background and begins to ignore it.

The above animation illustrates a variant of Troxler fading called the Lilac Chaser, credited to Jeremy Hinton circa 2005, and you’re invited to stare at the black cross-hairs for about thirty seconds and see what happens. Clinically and metaphorically, learning about ways that our perceptions are liable to compromise we’re finding simultaneously enlightening and leaving us wondering how we might be benighted.

jenseits oder art brut

A bit nonplussed with myself for not having taken the opportunity to venture out on this vector sooner, I took advantage of the fine weather to return to Heidelberg, visiting after a rather long absence. Though I only had the vague agenda of going in search of this artefact that I’d learned about recently (but more on that later), I didn’t really have a plan and familiar with the old town, just wanted to enjoy the day.
Beginning on the opposite bank in the Neuenheim district, I ascended the Heiligenberg (the Saints’ Mountain) and marched down the northern slope along the scenic and duly reflective Philosophenweg and enjoyed the views of the town below as I approached the Neckar and the crossed at the Old Bridge.
I was mistaken about where the autobiographical jacket of Agnes Richter was displayed, along with the rest of the curated collection of psychiatrist and art historian Hans Prinzhorn (DE/EN) but did locate the facilities that housed the former asylum and saw in the venerable campus museum—the University of Heidelberg founded in 1386—how the institution appeared during Nazi times and had a peek inside the ornate lecture hall, die Alte Aula.
Admission to the University Museum also included a tour of the Student Prison (der Studentenkarzer)—a pastiche of the various incarnations that the jail had taken from the days of the university’s founding until the outbreak of World War I, which afforded those with affiliation to the university a special and separate jurisdiction from regular townsfolk and generally lighter punishment for youthful indiscretions.
A sentence rather became a badge of honour and right-of-passage with the rise of fraternal organisations. Having already seen a lot, I sort of lost track of my quest and thought it would need to wait for another day but I recalled where the school of medicine was located and decided to look there.
I wasn’t sure how the gallery had escaped my notice beforehand—given all the opportunities that I had to explore Heidelberg in the past but a rather overwhelming and solemn experience awaited me.
Taking interest in the art that his patients produced not only as a psychologically heuristic tool but also for their aesthetic value, Prinzhorn began curating his collection in the 1920s and took special care that their art was documented and conserved—even through the ravages of World War II and euthanasia campaigns that murdered many of the artists.
Overcome by the expressive styles—something that I can’t quite name, informed surely from distress and disassociation but at the same time insightful, I found the exhibit fascinating and altogether something that I was not quite prepared for.
Embedded within the walls of the gallery space were several offices occupied by psychologists and one saw people come and go amid the paintings.  Moved by these testimonials that offered a glimpse into the mental state of the artists, I had nearly forgotten about Agnes Richter’s jacket and inquired with one of the staff members (who also handpick among the thousands of objects in the collection which works of art to display on a rotating basis) and was told it could only be viewed as part of a guided tour, which I’d arrived too late for.
I wasn’t disappointed, filled with so many other impressions to filter through, and resolved to visit again—since the exhibit regularly changes—when H could join me. Being a psychotherapist, I think it is something that H would be interested in seeing as well.