What Was I Thinking? (18 March)

Images used for the posts published on this date 

in 2019, 2020, 2021, and 2023

 

 

 

 

Sometimes - especially those times when, like today, I can't think of anything else to write about -  it's convenient to be able to look back and see what one was thinking on the same date in years gone by ...

 

 

Onychophilia: Notes on Two Types of Nail Fetish

 

The first thing to note about this post published back in 2019, is that it is - with almost 5000 views - the most viewed post on Torpedo the Ark. 

 

I suspect that's primarily because the post was mentioned by Dr Mark Griffiths on his excellent blog devoted to addictive, obsessive, compulsive and/or extreme behaviours [1], although I like to think the post also warrants attention on its own merit. 

Starting with those fetish figures made by natives of the Congo region of Central Africa, I swiftly moved from wooden figures with rusty nails banged into them for the purposes of witchcraft on to the sharp, long fingernails of beautiful young women and argued that onychophilia deserves to be considered in its own right and not merely seen as a form of hand partialism. 

 

Somewhat controversially perhaps, I also suggested that those who love nails (like those who love hair) are essentially soft-core necrophiles, secretly aroused by death. 

 

The post finished with a discussion of a related (but distinct) fetish, amychophilia - the desire of a masochistic subject to be cruelly scratched by fingernails. 

 

 

The Bear Necessity: Reflections on the Case of Timothy Treadwell

Not all posts are as popular as the one on two types of nail fetish. 

 

This post, for example, from March 2020, didn't even get a hundred views - which arguably speaks to the fact that there far fewer vorarephiles in the world than there are onychophiles (or amongst my readership, at any rate).

But I found the case of Timothy Treadwell interesting; a failed actor turned gonzo naturalist who ended up being eaten by a brown bear - which, as I punned at the time, is a grisly way to meet your end, but not, I think, the most ignoble way to die. I'd certainly rather be killed by a tiger than run over by a car and I would refute the idea that this makes me a disturbed individual harbouring a bizarre death wish.

 

 

Talaria: On the Secularisation of Winged Footwear from Hermes to Jeremy Scott

This post, from 2021 has so far picked up over a thousand views, so that's not too bad. It opens with the Greek god Hermes and closes with the irreverent American fashion designer Jeremy Scott. 

 

Some might characterise this transition from ancient myth to modern pop culture, as going from the sublime to the ridiculous, but I've never been a great defender of the distinction between high and low culture and I rather like the idea that everyone is entitled to wear winged footwear, not just gods and heroes.

 

 

Arborcide in the U. K.

 

Finally, let me briefly defend the post published on March 18th of last year: I thought it was good then and I still think it's good now.

 

However, the number of views it's had - despite the reworked Jamie Reid artwork - suggests that there are precious few dendrophiles checking out the blog; a fact that suprises and disappoints, as I would say Torpedo the Ark is hugely pro-tree and I have repeatedly expressed my support for those writers who recognise that plants are just as philosophically interesting as animals (perhaps more so). 

 

Reforesting, rewilding, and depopulating the UK is pretty much my position: no more roads; no more houses, no more population increase - just natural regeneration of woodland, scrubland, grassland, and wetland all across the country and serious protection afforded to wildlife. Rupert Birkin was right, there's no nicer thought than that of a posthuman future ...       

 

 

Notes

 

[1] Dr Mark Griffiths is a Professor of Behavioural Addiction at Nottingham Trent University. To visit his blog and to read his take on the subject of onychophilia, click here. 

 

 

Brief Notes on the History of the Human Flock 1: The Pagan Era

Late Roman marble copy of a Kriophoros

by the ancient Greek sculptor Kalamis 

(5th-century BC)

 

 

Many of us have what might be termed an Animal Farm moment of revelation when we look from A to B, and from B to A, and from A to B again, but are unable to tell which is which [1].

For example, at a certain point it becomes clear that there is no real difference between a punk and a hippie and that you should never trust either. Similarly, the distinction between pagan and Christian is impossible to maintain as soon as one reads a little religious history.

 

Take, for example, the idea of a human flock ... 

 

This is something I believed to be an exclusively Christian concept, referring to the followers of Jesus who styles himself as the good shepherd - i.e., one who not only knows and cares for his sheep, but is prepared to lay down his life for them [2]. 

But, thanks to Michel Foucault, I now discover: 

 

"The idea of a power that would be exercised on men in the same way as the shepherd's authority over his flock appeared long before Christianity. A whole series of very ancient texts and rites make reference to the shepherd and his animals to evoke the power of the gods or the prophets over the peoples they have the task of guiding." [3].

 

In ancient Egypt, for example, pharaohs received the emblems of the shepherd during their coronation ceremony; Babylonian and Assyrian kings were also awarded the title of shepherd, signifying their duty to safeguard the people over whom they ruled on behalf of the gods. 

 

By contrast, the ancient Greeks weren't so keen on thinking of themselves as a flock of sheep (or their rulers as shepherds) and the theme of pastoral power seems to have occupied only a minor place in their cultural imagination - even whilst it was customary amongst sculptors to produce figures known as Kriophoroi [4].

 

Foucault writes:

 

"The Homeric sovereigns were indeed designated as 'shepherds of the peoples', but without there being much more than a trace of ancient titulature. But later the Greeks don't seem to have been inclined to make the relation between the shepherd and his sheep the model of relation that must obtain between the citizens and those who command them." [5]

 

Of course, there were exceptions to this: Plato, for example - whom Nietzsche regards as a proto-Christian, preparing the ground for a slave revolt in morals - discussed pastoral power at some length in the Statesman, when he determines to define what the royal art of commanding consists in. 

 

However, it's important to note that Plato qualifies the idea and argues that, ultimately, the modern political leader must be more weaver than herdsman; i.e., one who who is able to pull together all the complex social elements and different classes of people into a single fabric. 

 

As we will see in part two of this post, it will take "the spread of oriental themes in Hellenistic and Roman culture for the pastorate to appear as the adequate image for representing the highest forms of power" [6]. 

 

 

Notes

 

[1] I'm referring here to the famous ending of George Orwell's 1945 novel, in which it becomes impossible to distinguish between pigs and humans around the card table.   

 

[2] See John 10:11-15: click here. 

 

[3] Michel Foucault, Confessions of the Flesh, trans. Robert Hurley, (Penguin Books, 2021), Appendix 2, p. 302. 

 

[4] Often intended as representations of the god Hermes, Kriophoroi were figures bearing a sacrificial ram upon their shoulders. However, the figure of a shepherd carrying a lamb, simply as a pastoral vignette, was also common in ancient Greece and known by the same term. 

      The Christians adopted the image and made it their own; the Good Shepherd being the most common symbolic representation of Christ found in early Christian art in the Catacombs of Rome (before such imagery could be made explicit), and it continued to be used in the centuries after Christianity was legalized in 313. Initially, it was probably not understood to be a portrait of Jesus. However, by the 5th century the figure had taken on the conventional appearance of Christ in Christian art; the robes, the halo, the long flowing hair, etc.

 

[5] Foucault, Confessions of the Flesh, p. 303.

 

[6] Ibid., p. 304.      

    

 

To read part two of this post - on the human flock in the Judeo-Christian era - click here.

 

 

Talaria: On the Secularisation of Winged Footwear from Hermes to Jeremy Scott

 

Adidas Originals by Jeremy Scott 

JS Wings 2.0 Gold (2014)

 

 

As everybody knows, the first pair of winged sandals belonged to the Greek god Hermes ...

 

Made of imperishable gold, they enabled him to fly as swift as any bird and to move freely between worlds (which is handy when employed as a divine messenger). They also magically ensured that he left no footprint at the scene of a crime (which is convenient when out on the rob). 

 

Interestingly, Perseus famously wears the sandals to help him slay the Medusa. But how he came to be in possession of them - and what happened to them afterwards - I don't know.  

 

What I do know, however, is that we live today in a very different world; one in which, thanks to irreverent American fashion designer Jeremy Scott,  everyone is entitled to wear wings on their feet, not just gods and heroes ... 

 

Determined to become a fashion designer from a young age, Scott launched his own brand in Paris, in 1997, just a year after graduating from the Pratt Institute in New York, mixing street style, pop culture, and high fashion in a distinctive style. Although considered neither serious nor commercial by many within the fashion establishment, Scott became a cult figure with an enthusiastic fan base.

 

Recognising his talent and his appeal, Moschino appointed him as their creative director in 2013. But that's not what interests me here. What interests me here, rather, is his extraordinary collaboration with Adidas beginning five years earlier ...

 

When Adidas Originals launched Scott's eye-catching collection of footwear in 2008, his winged high-tops transformed the sneaker market and elevated him to superstar status with mass appeal. Since then, there have been various versions of the shoe, including my favourite version shown above from 2014, designed in reflective gold patent leather, with a gum sole speckled with gold dust.       

 

Who could ask for more? They make the talaria made by Hephaestus pale in comparison and John O'Connor's winged boots designed for Mr Freedom in the early 1970s - as famously worn by Elton John (and written about by Paul Gorman here) - look somewhat clumsy and clownish.