Nov

Visual Wordplay for the Bilingual Brain

by Eva Boynton on November 14, 2017

A cartoon of a woman pulling a leg and hands grabbing her hair, showing how visual wordplay with Spanish and English proverbs tickles the bilingual brain. (image © Eva Boynton).

“Ouch! You’re pulling my leg!”
“¡Ay! ¡Me estás tomando el pelo!” (“Ouch! You’re grabbing my hair!”)
© drawing by Eva Boynton

Spanish and English Proverbs in Pictures

While living in Mexico, I heard phrases whose literal translations created odd visual images for me and confused my developing bilingual brain. For example: “Me estás tomando el pelo!” (You are grabbing my hair!”). My initial bewildered response? I checked to see if my hands were minding their business at my side.

With further explanation, I soon understood that such strange phrases were proverbios y refranes (proverbs and sayings), wise and colorful ways to make a point. In this case: “You are pulling my leg.”

As I started collecting Spanish proverbs, something else began to appear. Oh, I saw that the essence of a proverb often translates from language to language even when the metaphors and imagery vary.

For me, someone who thinks visually, these proverbs were waiting to be translated into cartoonish illustrations that bring their wordplay to life.

1. Together is Always Better

Proverbs and sayings state a general truth and often offer advice metaphorically. Has anyone ever told you, “Two heads are better than one”?

A cartoon of a man with four eyes and a woman with two heads, illustrating how visual wordplay with Spanish and English proverbs tickles the bilingual brain. (image © Eva Boynton).

There’s something different about this guy . . .
© drawing by Eva Boynton

How about the Spanish equivalent: “Cuatro ojos ven mas que dos” (“Four eyes see more than two”)? Whether there’s an extra head or more than two eyes, collaborating with others always helps to solve problems.

2. You Can’t Hide What’s Inside

Whether in Spanish or English, proverbs represent values people hold. They reflect shared experience and the wisdom that arises from it. For example, “Fine feathers don’t make fine birds” communicate that it’s not the elegant coat and shiny earrings that define a person, but rather what is underneath.

A cartoon of a cockatoo and a monkey with a silk dress sitting on a branch, illustrating how visual wordplay with Spanish and English proverbs tickles the bilingual brain. (image © Eva Boynton).

What banana?
© drawing by Eva Boynton

In Spanish, the feathers metaphor takes on a different form: Aunque la mona se vista de seda, mona se queda (“Although the monkey is dressed in silk, she remains a monkey”). The true nature and that fuzzy monkey tail cannot be hidden by silken decoration.

3. Pay Attention or Learn Your Lesson

Proverbs and sayings touch every aspect of life. “You snooze you lose,” said a man who quickly slipped into my parking spot. That jolted me into the present after being distracted by a pretty view. The proverb had it right with its warning not to hesitate and miss an opportunity.

A cartoon of a shrimp sleeping on a raft going down a stream, illustrating how visual wordplay with Spanish and English proverbs tickles the bilingual brain. (image © Eva Boynton).

Zzzz..nothing to worry about…zzzz
© drawing by Eva Boynton

Maybe the raft is incredibly comfortable, but this shrimp is about to learn the same lesson—in Spanish: “Camarón que se duerme se lo lleva la corriente” (“A sleeping shrimp gets carried away by the current”).

4. Beware of Musical Chairs

There are many English and Spanish proverbs with warnings about losing something you already have. In Spanish, “El que se fue a Sevilla, perdió su silla” (“He who left for the town of Sevilla, lost his seat.”) is a good reminder to pay attention.

A cartoon strip of a woman taking the chair of a man who left his seat, showing how visual wordplay with Spanish and English proverbs tickles the bilingual brain. (image © Eva Boynton).

I was only gone ONE minute!
© drawing by Eva Boynton

Not all proverbs are a beautiful slice of wisdom. Sometimes they can be sarcastic, to the point, and biting. If someone took my seat and chanted, “Finders keepers, losers weepers,” I would most likely furrow my brow, cross my arms, and . . .

5. What Looks Nice Sometimes Bites

“Every rose has its thorn . . . every cowboy sings his sad, sad, song” is more than a couple of lines from an eighties song by the band Poison. “Every rose has its thorn” is also a famous proverb with advice on the nature of things—something that appears beautiful and perfect can have its sharp side.

A cartoon of a rose poking its thorn at a bee holding honey, showing how visual wordplay with Spanish and English proverbs tickles the bilingual brain. (image © Eva Boynton).

And I thought you smelled nice!
© drawing by Eva Boynton

When I asked my husband for an example of the proverb in Spanish, he came up with, “Hasta las abejas que tienen miel, tienen aguijón” (“Even bees with honey have stingers”). He smiled and elaborated in Spanglish, “You are sweet and cute, pero cuando te enojas, tienes aguijón” (but when you are angry, you have a stinger). Perfect, I wrote that one down.

As my pen marked the page, I wondered about the significance of a rose versus a bee. What might the choice say about the culture or the language?

If you have a bilingual brain, try out some bi-visual wordplay of your own. You may find yourself feliz como una lombriz (happy as a worm) when you think in Spanish and “happy as a clam” when your clever brain turns to English. And please share the bilingual proverbs you come up with in the Comments.

A cartoon of a smiling clam and a dancing worm with maracas, showing how visual wordplay with Spanish and English proverbs tickles the bilingual brain. (image © Eva Boynton).

Nice maracas!
© drawing by Eva Boynton

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Becoming Bilingual/Language & Culture/Proverbs & Sayings/Wordplay

Jan

An Idiom Abroad

by Joyce McGreevy on January 3, 2017

The statue of the Duke of Wellington in Glasgow shows that Scotland's fashions go beyond the wordplay of clothing idioms. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Trafficking in high fashion, Glasgow style.
The Duke of Wellington monument at the Gallery of Modern Art.
© Joyce McGreevy

A Wordplay Stitch in Time

Sew, a funny thing happened on the way to a textile exhibition. One morning in Glasgow, I stopped at a café to write. The assignment: draft a column about the wordplay of clothing idioms.

I’m no smarty pants, but I hoped to leave readers in stitches so I put on my thinking cap, booted up my laptop, and buckled down to work. As cellphone users aired their dirty linen in public, I felt hampered and wished they would put a sock in it.

Then the barista buttonholed me with a shirty question.

“Wherever do you writers get your material?” he asked starchly.

His remark needled me, but surely I could pin down a sharp reply. A stitch in time saves nine, but darn it, the next ten minutes unraveled as I hemmed and hawed.

Awkward silence cloaked the café. You could have heard a pin drop.

A 17th century glove from Glasgow's Burrell Collection inspires off-the-cuff wordplay and other clothing idioms. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

The gloves were off. I grasped for an off-the-cuff remark.
A 17th century glove, Burrell Collection, Glasgow.
© Joyce McGreevy

The Truth Can Be Crewel

The truth is, we writers fly by the seat of our pants, sometimes crafting stories from whole cloth, sometimes hanging on by a thread. We spin a good yarn, yet often feel as if we’re pulling the wool over our own eyes.

I considered embroidering the truth, as if I always had a trick up my sleeve. But my tongue was tied, so I zipped my lip. I was skirting the issue, and in Scotland one can get kilt for such things.

Seeing that I hadn’t a notion, my questioner dropped the topic like a missed stitch. Hat in hand, I weaved uncertainly into the fog that blanketed the city of Glasgow.

A Queen's Park street in Glasgow leads to a textile exhibition that inspires the wordplay of clothing idioms. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Before me loomed a patchwork of city streets. I knitted my brow, feeling crotchety.
© Joyce McGreevy

Haberdasher-ing Down the Road

The road unspooled before me, shimmering in patches, as veils of cloud cover gradually lifted. With a few quid burning a hole in my pocket, I threaded my way through Pollok Country Park. There I saw people surging toward the museum that housed the Burrell Collection.

The Hornby Portico in Glasgow leads to a textile exhibition, a visual reminder of clothing idioms' wordplay. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

A coat of arms crowns the site of strategic textile maneuvers.
The Hornby Portico, 16th century, Glasgow.
© Joyce McGreevy

As a traveler on a shoestring budget, I seek out pockets of inspiration that won’t cost the shirt off my back. Like museums, where I feel as comfortable as an old shoe.

So in I darted.

There it was—a textile exhibition perfectly tailored to the situation: Gilt and Silk: Early 17^th Century Costume.

Oh, I see: This was truly a stitch in time.

A 17th century petticoat at a textile exhibition in Glasgow, Scotland reminds us that a stitch in time is more than wordplay. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

How do you order remnants of chronological events? In sequins, of course.
Detail from a 17th century petticoat, Burrell Collection.
© Joyce McGreevy

Material Witness

I realize textile exhibitions bore the pants off some people. But I grew up in a close-knit family where a head for style went hand in glove with an eye for art. We’ve always cottoned to costume displays and would go at the drop of a hat.

Turns out it was final curtain for the Burrell Collection. The museum was about to bolt its doors until 2020, allowing renovators to roll up their sleeves and gussy up the place.

In other words, this textile exhibition was no dress rehearsal.

Silver and gold embroidery at a textile exhibition in Glasgow reflect the gilt-y pleasures of wordplay and clothing idioms. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Taking a shine to silver and gold threads made me feel gilt-y.
© Joyce McGreevy

Cloth Encounters

Intent on bobbin’ my head at as many items as possible, I zigzagged from display to display.

Some of the clothing knocked my socks off.

Like a woman’s waistcoat made of linen and polychrome silk. The snug little bodice brought new meaning to tightening one’s belt. Ah, but those silver-gilt threads in a pattern of flowers and foliage had me wearing my heart on my sleeve.

A 17th century noblewoman's waistcoat at a textile exhibition in Glasgow, Scotland threads the needle between clothing idioms' wordplay and their source. (Image @ Joyce McGreevy)

Wealthy noblewomen had a vested interest in waistcoats.
A 17th century waistcoat, Burrell Collection.
© Joyce McGreevy

Satin’s Handiwork

Some items left me hot under the collar. Like the outfit worn by the little boy in this painting.

A medieval ruff, as depicted in a painting in Glasgow, Scotland, inspires the wordplay of clothing idioms. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Seems like ruff circumstances for a little kid.
Detail from a painting by unknown artist, Burrell Collection.
© Joyce McGreevy

I guess M’Lord Senior was a stuffed shirt. And M’Lady had a bee in her bonnet about handling play-clothes with kid gloves.

Meanwhile, another area was bursting at the seams.

Museum-goers had fanned out around the highlight of the show—a crimson silk satin petticoat. You can bet your boots that showcasing this extremely rare article was a feather in the cap of the museum’s director.

Thus did the hours unfold. I stared at historical fashion like it was going out of style.

A 17th century textile exhibition in Glasgow provides rich material for clothing idioms and wordplay. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Nothing’s petty about a 17th century petticoat. The layered look was big back then.
© Joyce McGreevy

Nothing Old Hat Under the Sun

Finally, it was time to throw in the towel. With a new experience under my belt, I felt once again ready to toss my hat into the ring. (As a freelancer, I wear many hats in order to line my pockets while pulling myself up by my own bootstraps, as I refuse to ride another’s coattails.)

So I returned to work and tied up a few loose ends.

A 17th century cap at a textile exhibition in Glasgow, Scotland is "a tip of the hat" to clothing idioms and wordplay. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Hat trick: This embroidered cloth became a close-fitting cap.
© Joyce McGreevy

True, I still hadn’t answered the question of where writers get their material. Not every mystery can be sewn up in a neat little package.

But by following a stitch in time at the textile exhibition and collaring a few clothing idioms, I’d reconnected with the fabric of life. And my guess is, there’s a pattern in there somewhere.

A detail of a 17th century cap at a textile exhibition in Glasgow, Scotland "puts a cap on" clothing idioms and wordplay. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Animals on caps symbolized the senses. H’ats all, folks!
© Joyce McGreevy

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Scotland/The World's Art & Design/Wordplay

Aug

Wordplay: Wit and Wisdom in Public Spaces

by Joyce McGreevy on August 16, 2016

A hair salon in Glasgow, Scotland typifies the wit and wordplay of signage in public spaces. Image © Joyce McGreevy

Hair-salon puns, like this one in Glasgow, Scotland, are permanent highlights of signage.
© Joyce McGreevy

Reading the Language of Signs Worldwide

Maybe it’s a sign, you think. You mean that literally. It’s Day 1 in Sofia, Bulgaria, and you’re staring at a wall of words that may signify the name of the street. Or a local ordinance. Or the route to Romania.

You know this much: it’s definitely in Cyrillic. Suddenly, you’re back in the pre-literacy of early childhood, experiencing the world as a dense forest of language whose mysteries you’re not yet able to penetrate.

Oh, I see: Signs are an indispensable element of our public spaces.

Showing Obvious Signs

Some signs require no language at all to make their messages clear. Glasgow University uses creative visuals to dish up directions to the student dining hall.

A sign for Glasgow University's student dining hall shows the wit of signage in public spaces. Image © Joyce McGreevy

At Glasgow University, wordless signage offers a running commentary.
© Joyce McGreevy

Some wordless signs are obvious. Very, very obvious. At one of Glasgow’s most popular attractions, The Lighthouse, this sign helps get visitors where they, ah, need to go.

A sign at The Lighthouse, Glasgow, Scotland shows how wordless signage complements wordplay signage in public spaces.Image © Joyce McGreevy

This is not the universal symbol for a Scottish jig.
© Joyce McGreevy

Adorable Doors

Other signs are Austen-tacious. Planning to visit the city of Bath, England? Simply trust your own sense and sensibility when choosing a loo.

A sign at the Jane Austen Centre, Bath, England, reflects the wit and wisdom of signage in public spaces. Image © Joyce McGreevy

“She had a lively, playful disposition, which delighted in anything ridiculous.”

A Mr Darcy sign at the Jane Austen Centre, Bath, England, reflects the wit, wisdom, and wordplay of signage in public spaces. Image © Joyce McGreevy

“I’d say this qualifies.”
© both images by Joyce McGreevy

Please Do Not Read This Sign

Some signs get right to the point. They are down-to-earth so you won’t end up down-to-earth in the worst possible way. Still, getting close enough to read this warning in Co. Clare, Ireland, could defeat the purpose.

A danger sign in Lahinch, Ireland lends drama to the wit and wisdom of signage in public spaces. Image © Joyce McGreevy

After all, isn’t the whole point of such signs to keep you from getting to this point?

A rollercoaster sign in Iowa reflects the wordplay, wit, and wisdom of signage in public spaces. Image © Pat Hawks

A rollercoaster sign in Iowa generates “Likes” from some, “Yikes!” from others.
“The Point of No Return” by Pat Hawks is licensed under CC BY 4.0.

What’s Your Mirth Sign?

Some shop window signs are all about the jokes. Like the bakery chalkboard that asks, “Pilates? Don’t you mean pie and lattes?” Or the marquee that drily declares “If it’s in stock, we have it!”

Or this deli sign call-to-action: “Ban pre-shredded cheese. Make America grate again!”

Shop window signage in Ireland reflects wordplay, wit, and wisdom. Image © Joyce McGreevy

Shop window signage for beer in Ireland typifies the wordplay, wit, and wisdom to be found in public spaces. Image © Joyce McGreevy

Uniquely British Signs

In London, the very quest for precision can lead to confusion. For instance, in the Underground, Way Out doesn’t mean “Exit,” but the path toward the exit.

One day I watched as a small group of people stood around a trash can attempting to decode the label, Residual Waste Only.

“Isn’t all waste, by definition, residual?” inquired one.

“Indeed, but this bin is for waste that’s left over after one has sorted out all the other waste,” clarified another.

“Ah, so it’s truly residual,” averred a third.

“Precisely.”

I can hardly wait to see the dramatization on BBC.

My favorite British signs are often snarky. This one puts a different spin on being calm and “carrying on.”

A sign in London about the Little Book of Calm shows the wordplay, wit, and wisdom of signage in public spaces. Image © Joyce McGreevy

Signs of the Times

Some signs shed light on old sayings. At Senglea Harbor, Malta, benches are labeled with sailors’ proverbs, some in English, some in Maltese.

A sailors' proverb on a bench in Senglea, Malta typifies the wordplay, wit, and wisdom of signage in public spaces. Image © Joyce McGreevy

A view of the Mediterranean Sea is en route to Malta, where signage reflects wordplay, wit and wisdom in public spaces. Image © Joyce McGreevy

Signs to Bookmark

Some literary signs invite us to go by the book. In Dublin, Ireland, well-trodden pavement plaques let you follow in the path of the fictional Leopold Bloom from James Joyce’s Ulysses. Now that’s a footnote.

A pavement sign in Dublin, Ireland commemorating James Joyce's Ulysses reflects the wordplay, wit, and wisdom of signage in public spaces. Image © Joyce McGreevy

In Paris, signage, like everything else, becomes art. Fellow OIC Moments blogger Meredith Mullins discovered a creative French take on literature in the Palais Royal gardens.

Artist Michel Goulet has transformed castoff iron chairs into sites for relaxation and versification. Engraved with lines of poetry, the chairs feature ports that let you plug in your earbuds and listen as famous French actors read aloud the complete poem.

In short, why settle for la vie en prose?

A poetry chair created by Michel Goulet for the Palais Royal gardens, Paris, honors Emily Dickinson and shows the wordplay, wit, and wisdom of signage in public spaces. Image © Meredith Mullins

A poetry chair by Michel Goulet at the Palais Royal, Paris honors Guillaume Apollinaire and reflects the wordplay, wit, and wisdom of signage in public spaces. Image © Meredith Mullins

“Let night come on bells end the day/ The days go by me still I stay.”
(Translation, poet Richard Wilbur)
© Meredith Mullins

Good Signs

Some signs inspire us to do good. At the Hammer Museum, Los Angeles, a sign for an exhibition by New York-based artist Jim Hodges invites literal and figurative reflection.

A sign at the Hammer Museum, Los Angeles reflects the wordplay, wit, and wisdom of signage in public spaces. Image © Joyce McGreevy

Signs on the walls of Kelvingrove Art Gallery and Museum, Glasgow offer fresh perspective on vision itself.

A quotation on the wall of Kelvingrove Art Gallery and Museum, Glasgow, Scotland reflects the wordplay, wit, and wisdom of signage in public spaces. Image © Joyce McGreevy

Signs of Life

Finally, some signs are simply for the birds! Protecting a nest egg is second nature to the denizens of Glebe Gardens in Baltimore, Ireland.

A handmade sign on a mailbox in Baltimore, Ireland, shows the wordplay, wit, and wisdom of signage in public spaces. Image © Joyce McGreevy

So what’s your (favorite) sign? Where have you found wit and wisdom in public spaces?

Comment on this post below, or inspire insight with your own OIC Moment here.

Joyce McGreevy 9 Comments

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