A lizard, a wedding and a painting

A least three things have happened in the last week that are worth sharing. The most important is my second cousin’s wedding, which we’ll get to in a moment. But first, here’s a photo of a gecko I saw on my kitchen window last Thursday evening:

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I’ve never seen a gecko at this address before, and — although I’ve read about it often enough — I’ve never seen a gecko climbing glass before. Amazing.

On Saturday, my second cousin Simon married Jemima, who I hadn’t met before. The wedding took place in the Lutheran Church at Strathalbyn, a largish town about 50km southeast of Adelaide. Here are my photos from the service:

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And from outside the church:

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Everybody taking photographs at the same time:

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Between the service and the reception, my parents and I explored the town of Strathalbyn, which features a very nice park in the middle. Here’s my best photograph:

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The reception was held back in the church hall. On display was the official wedding cake, which is almost certainly the best-decorated cake at any wedding I’ve been to. Simon is a tractor fanatic, hence the farm-themed decorations as seen in the first photo below.

Beside it is a photograph of the balcony where the married couple and selected company sat during the reception.

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Below are two more photos. The first is a close-up from our table, starring Mum, and the second shows the view toward the balcony. The light levels in the room were too low for my camera to focus properly, but I’m sure you’ll forgive that.

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During the proceedings, the microphone coordinator gave us half an hour to compose messages to be read aloud. My parents remember this was a common thing at weddings a generation ago, but almost unknown these days — perhaps it’s coming back into fashion, but more likely Simon and Jemima heard about it from old folk and thought it was a good idea.

Anyway, with assistance from family — because I couldn’t figure out the last line on my own — I composed the following limerick:

When Simon did marry Jemima
He couldn’t find anyone finer.
She doesn’t have wheels
Yet somehow appeals
And we hope that he’ll often remind her.

To my mind, the reception was a lot more enjoyable than the service. However it did run late (so many speeches), and we didn’t stay till the very end. I never did find out if the cake tasted as good as it looked, but the rest of the food was beyond criticism.

It was great to catch up with Simon and meet Jemima, but of course it wasn’t the place for an extended chat. I look forward to having that opportunity another time.

The third event worth sharing from the last week is the delivery — yesterday evening — of the painting I bought last month on Kangaroo Island. The painting is called Southern Swell, and the artist is Suzanne Trethewey. Here is a picture of it hanging above my living room table, followed by two complementary close-ups:

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Kán yu andastánd wot aim seiing?

Whatever you think of the complexities and ambiguities of English spelling, reforming it is not a realistic prospect this side of an independently-governed moon colony.

Or, to put it another way: Woteva yu think ov dhi kompleksitíz ánd ámbigyúitíz ov Inglish speling, rifōming it iz not a rialistik prospekt dhis said ov an indipendentli-gavand mún koloni.

Because however unattainable reform might be in the real world, everything is possible in the imagination. Only very boring people permit their actions to be governed by the question, “Is it practical” when they could be asking, “Is it fun?”. So here’s my question: Suppose you were the governor of that moon colony. How would you propose a more-or-less phonemic English could be spelt?

Bikoz haoeva anateinabul rifōm mait bi in dhi rial wǎld, evríthing iz posibul in dhi imájineishon. Ounli veri bōring pípul pǎmit dhe ákshonz tu bi gavand bai dhi kweschon, “Iz it práktikul” wen dhei kud bi āsking, “Iz it fan?”. Sou hiaz mai kweschon: Sapouz yu wǎ dhi gavana ov dhát mún koloni. Hao wud yu propouz a mo-o-les fonemik Inglish kud bi spelt?

In this blog post I’ll present a system of my own, and for comparison also refer to a quite different system I designed a number of years ago.

In dhis blog poust ail prizent a sistem ov mai oun, ánd fo kompárison ōlsou rifǎ tu a kwait difrent sistem ai dizaind a namba ov yiaz agou.

— Where to Start —

To begin, you need to make a number of decisions. These include:

Tu bigin, yu níd tu meik a namba ov disizhonz. Dhíz inklúd:

  • Which dialects is your system intended for? Perhaps all of them (good luck with that), perhaps only your specific accent, or perhaps something in between. The system herein aspires to work for most non-rhotic dialects of English.
  • Wich daialekts iz yo sistem intended fo? Paháps ōl ov dhem (gud lak widh dhat), paháps ounli yo spesifik aksent, o paháps samthing in bitwín. Dhi sistem hiarin aspaiaz tu wǎk fo moust non-rotik daialekts ov Inglish.
  • Do you wish to exploit familiar spellings to keep your system easy to learn, or do you want to give English spelling a clean start by building a consistent, sensible system from the ground up? Herein, I’ve gone for the familiarity approach, up to a point.
  • Du yu wish tu eksploit familya spelingz tu kíp yo sistem ízi tu lǎn, o du yu wont to giv Inglish speling a klín stāt bai bilding a konsistent, sensibul sistem from dhi graond ap? Hiarin, aiv goon fo dhi familíáriti aprouch, ap tu a point.
  • Will there be a symbol reserved for schwa, and if so, which? You could re-use an existing letter to ensure it flows easily under the pen, but at the cost of making the remaining letters work that much harder to fill the gap. If not, people will go on misspelling separate as they always have. In this case I’ve chosen not to represent schwa.
  • Wil dhe bi a simbol rizǎvd fo shwā, ánd if sou, wich? Yu kud ríyúz an egzisting leta tu ensho it flouz ízili anda dhi pen, bat át dhi kost ov meiking dhi rimeining letaz wǎk dhat much hāda tu fil dhi gáp. If not, pípul wil gou on misspeling separeit az dhei ōlweiz háv. In dhis keis aiv chousen not tu reprizent shwā.
  • Will you have exactly one spelling per pronunciation, or will you build in some redundancy? Also, perhaps you’d like to use spelling to indicate which syllable is stressed. Here I’ll keep things simple for the most part, but discuss possible extensions at the end.
  • Wil yu háv egzáktli wan speling pǎ pronansíeishon, o wil yu bild in sam ridandansi? Ōlsou, paháps yúd laik tu yúz speling tu indikeit wich silabul iz strest. Hia ail kíp thingz simpul fo dhi moust pāt, bat diskas posibul ekstenshonz át dhi end.

My previous system was tailor-made for my specific dialect, was considerably more radical at the expense of being hard to remember, reserved the letter i for schwa, and included a rather convoluted system for marking stressed syllables.

Mai prívios sistem woz teila-meid fo mai spesifik daialekt, woz konsidarabli mo rádikul át dhi ekspens ov bíing hād tu rimemba, rizǎvd dhi leta i for shwā, ánd inklúded a rādha konvolúted sistem fo māking strest silabulz.

[The self-translations will cease at this point. They've been proofread a few times, but errors may remain.]

— Consonants —

In English, n becomes a velar nasal when followed by g or k (as in anger, angle, ankle, anchor, etc), and in those cases it makes sense to spell the combination ng or nk as we normally do (since the velar nasal can be regarded as an allophone of n). But we also use the spelling ng to represent a velar nasal on its own, leading to the ambiguity whereby the g in anger is pronounced but that in hanger is not.

In my old system, I decided that a velar nasal not followed by g or k would be spelt yn, resolving the ambiguity and taking advantage of the fact that the letter y (always a consonant) cannot occur immediately before another consonant. This time, however, I’ve decided that the anger/hanger ambiguity is a tolerable one, and to simply spell the velar nasal ng as English speakers are used to.

Similarly, in English the spelling th sometimes denotes the unvoiced fricative of thieves, sometimes the voiced fricative of these, and sometimes simply the sequence of sounds represented by the letters t and h (the famous-to-the-point-of-being-a-cliche example being pothole).

In my old system I used the spellings hs and hz for unvoiced and voiced th respectively, taking advantage of the fact that the h sound never occurs immediately before another consonant, and having the second half of the digraph be something that normally represents a sound of the some phonological category (unvoiced and voiced fricatives respectively). This time I’ve decided to spell the unvoiced th simply as such, and (borrowing from some other languages) to use the spelling dh for its voiced equivalent.

In this system, the letter j has the pronunciation that English speakers would expect, and the same goes for the digraphs ch, sh and zh. The letter c never occurs on its own (as its two main pronunciations are spelt s and k), but only as part of the digraph ch. One can envisage a later reform of the reform in which the surplus h is dispensed with, but for the sake of familiarity I’ve decided to leave ch alone. The letters q and x do not exist in my alphabet at all.

— Vowels —

That’s enough about consonants. The real fun is with the vowels, which I’ll describe with reference to John Wells’s lexical sets.

In my dialect, the PALM/BATH/START sets are merged, as are the LOT/CLOTH sets, and THOUGHT/NORTH/FORCE sets. If your dialect has slightly different mergers (e.g. BATH merged with TRAP instead of PALM), you might have to modify the system slightly and use alternative spellings for some words, but we’d still be able to understand each other. If you dialect has significantly different mergers, then my system may not be suitable for your dialect. I expect that nearly all non-rhotic dialects of English would — with minor adjustments — find it workable.

Here’s my list of vowel spellings and the corresponding lexical sets:

a … STRUT
á … TRAP
ā … PALM/BATH/START
ǎ … NURSE [was ü in earlier drafts]
e … DRESS
ē … SQUARE
i … KIT
í … FLEECE
o … LOT/CLOTH
ō … THOUGHT/NORTH/FORCE
u … FOOT
ú … GOOSE
ai … PRICE
ao … MOUTH
ei … FACE
ia … NEAR
oi … CHOICE
ou … GOAT

In my old system. I chose spellings for vowels and diphthongs that closely mirror their pronunciations in Australian English (e.g. reserving certain symbols for front, central and back vowels respectively). In this new system, I’ve stuck more closely to traditional and familiar values that are not tied to a specific accent. That said, I’ve referred to accents I’m familiar with in order to make sure diacritics change vowel quality in reasonably consistent ways.

There is no symbol for schwa. To represent schwa, one should choose the vowel best suited to the role in the context (taking into account the pronunciation used when the word is overarticulated or sung, the pronunciation used in more conservative accents, the traditional spelling, the etymology, and so on). I do have one rule, though: to keep things simple, vowels that are frequently reduced to schwa should normally be represented with one of the basic five symbols a, e, i, o, u — no diacritics, no digraphs. For example, the re in reform contains the FLEECE vowel (í) when clearly articulated, but because it is often reduced to schwa, we compromise and use the KIT vowel symbol (i) instead.

(The indefinite article a would be spelt ei when there is a reason to emphasise it, but otherwise I favour a rather than e for several reasons. These include familiarity, maintaining the similarity between a & an, and avoiding confusion with the word air. Even the most consistent languages in the world have exceptions for some of their most common words. The word and maintains its diacritic because, although the vowel is often reduced in a sentence, it is always articulated when the word is spoken in isolation.)

Because the DRESS, KIT, LOT, CLOTH and FOOT vowels (also TRAP, but that’s unimportant here) never occur word-finally in English, you may omit the diacritics on ē, í, ō, ú when they occur as the final letter of a word (i.e. spell them e, i, o, u respectively).

A comment on my use of diacritics. Although I’ve tried to keep the spellings of phonemes reasonably familiar, I think this can be taken too far. A system based entirely on the most common correspondences between spelling and sound in English (say, komyoonikayshun for communication) risks being perceived as juvenile. I think diacritics are widely perceived as sophisticated, so may help counteract that effect. However, they do place an extra burden on handwriting and risk being confused with commas from the line above, so it pays not to overdo them. That’s why I’ve outlawed diacritics on reduced vowels, advised omitting most of them from word-final vowels, and made a point not to include them in digraphs.

— Extensions —

As an optional extra, here’s a suggestion for how my system might be extended to include stress marking:

  • Add a h or y between the nucleus and coda of the stressed syllable (aesthetically, I generally favour h after ao, u, and y after e, i). For example, communication without stress marking is komyúnikeishon. With stress marking, it becomes komyúhnikeiyshon.
  • To mark stress on a syllable that lacks a coda, represent the coda with an apostrophe. Without stress marking, ambiguity would be ámbigyúiti. With: ámbigyúh’iti.

This could be used routinely, or only when potential for confusion exists. Redundant stress marking might be used to differentiate between homophones.

(Note: I do not use apostrophes in other contexts, e.g. no apostrophes for common contractions or possession. Apostrophes and diacritics seem a little too fly-specky in conjunction.)

We might use etymological spellings as well as redundant stress marking to differentiate between some homophones. Perhaps dhe for there, dhēy for their, and dheia for they’re, for example. If a system such as this were actually used, the community would soon develop some conventions.

— Postscript —

I’d like to end by reiterating what I said at the beginning: that this is not a serious proposal for an English spelling reform, but is intended as entertainment. Please feel free to use the comments section appropriately as a playground.

Links: Early February 2013

The Pulp-O-Mizer is an Internet website/meme that’s been doing the rounds lately. It’s a lot of fun, and involves choosing a combination of image elements and text format options to create your own magazine cover in the style of 1950s pulp science fiction. Best results come from taking the time to play around and get a handle on its capabilities.

The most obvious idea is combine your personal favourites (favourite foreground image, background image, title, etc), making compromises when your first choices don’t work well together. Here’s one I did, reflecting my own tastes.

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Another idea is to take something in the real world (a book, perhaps, or even your own blog), and create the cover it would have if it were a 1950s pulp science fiction magazine. I did this on Twitter with Mike Brown’s How I Killed Pluto And Why It Had It Coming, and Mike retweeted it!

The site does not have a public gallery, unfortunately, so you have to upload your generated image yourself. (But definitely worth it.) If you are willing, please post links to your creations in the comments.

Now here are the other links I wish to share:

Interesting:

Delightful:

  • Electronic game to play with pigs, but I’d like to see more evidence that the pigs enjoy it. (Are the flashy firework displays really rewarding to them?)
  • Two pieces of online art on the theme of unlimited zoom [1], [2].
  • The Out of Eden Walk has started, and we’ll see how it goes. (I linked to this article in December.)
  • Indoor kite-flying — essentially a form of dance.

Useful:

  • Adding 24timezones.com to my list of bookmarked utility sites. Accurate-to-the-second time with a great interface.

If we are designing flags…

Every so often, the prospect of changing the Australian flag crops up in the media. Politically, I don’t much care: there are more important things than some piece of cloth on a pole. But creatively, if people are designing flags, then I want in on the action.

The latest revival of the conversation was triggered by a rather hideous design that’s not worth linking to (it’s only a catalyst, anyway). A better design along a similar line was Brendan Jones’s 1995 Reconciliation Flag, of which my only criticism is that the white line looks rather too divisive. I think it was the first I ever saw that involved the use of a boomerang.

Here’s a link to a list of 100 flags proposed by the public in the late 90s.

It’s been a while since we last had a flag debate in Australia, and likewise, a while since I last had a go at designing one of my own. Now, I happen to work as part of a graphic design team these days, but at home I don’t have access to the software we use at work, so I had to try and sketch a design using Windows Paintbrush.

So bearing in mind that this is better thought of as a rough sketch than a finished design, here is the best idea I came up with. [Update: I've fiddled a bit since the original upload, but still using Paintbrush.]

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Every flag tells a story, and I took as my inspiration the rarely-sung second verse of Australia’s national anthem.

  • Beneath our radiant Southern Cross, we’ll toil with hearts and hands
    So I’ve depicted the Southern Cross, which is also depicted on our current flag. The number of points on the stars is irrelevant, but five points is easiest in Paintbrush, so I went with that.
  • To make this Commonwealth of ours renowned through all the lands
    The red boomerang (an idea borrowed from the Reconciliation Flag and others like it) is firstly a distinctly Australian symbol but also doubles as an upward-pointing arrow for ambition. More evocatively, picture a boomerang being tossed into the night sky, to fly amidst the stars of the Southern Cross.
  • For those who come across the seas, we’ve boundless plains to share
    I’ve included blue for the ocean on both sides of the design. As for sharing boundless plains, it has to be said that Australian politics right now is anything but welcoming to outsiders. But personally, I like the idea of national symbols that can be used to shame us, by expressing values we’re supposed to have but seem to have forgotten.

The one thing obviously missing is any representation of Australia’s individual states and territories. But flags are supposed to be simple, and one must make decisions about what to put in and what to leave out. There is no rule that requires a country’s flag to indicate the number of states and territories it has, so I decided that this design would not. (An advantage is that if ever Australians decide to alter the number of states, it can be done independently of the flag.)

To defend the design from another perspective — without the boomerang, you’d have a simple flag with the Southern Cross in the middle, and colours representing the water and land of our island continent. Surveys show that many people would like to retain the Southern Cross on a new flag, although here it appears in a simplified, more abstract form. On the other hand, the main argument against using the Southern Cross is that it is not distinctly Australian, as the flags of New Zealand and Papua New Guinea also share the feature. The boomerang adds precisely that Australian element, and is integrated with everything else.

I sketched this for fun, and won’t try to convince anyone that we should adopt it as a nation. This blog post is simply my humble contribution to the national discussion. If you have some flag-related ideas you’d like to share with me — whether you’re Australian or not, whether you think we need a new flag or not — then you are welcome to continue that discussion in the comments.

Update: I found a site that lets you convert a flag image into an animation. Here’s what mine looks like in motion:

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Update: I got thinking about how states’ flags might be constructed to match my design for the national flag, and the idea that worked best was to turn the design sideways, put it against the mast, extend the stripes, and add the state’s emblem on the other side. Here’s how that turns out for South Australia.

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Update and Postscript: My supervisor at the graphic design place I work at mentioned that he likes Brendan Jones’s other design. It is certainly one of the better conservative proposals (i.e. ones that maintain continuity with the current Australian flag), and I would consider it serviceable — if a little stark for my taste and overreliant on stars. I decided to fiddle with it, creating a modified version with a 2:3 aspect ratio, a brighter shade of blue to contrast better with the black, and stars reduced in size to better fit the new width. (Here it is animated.)

Two nodable challenges

Here are two challenges that are completely unrelated except that both involve some sort of nodes. The first challenge is different for every reader.

In idle moments, I sometimes create challenges for myself involving the geometic layout of buttons on remote control devices. For many of these, I consider the buttons on the remote control as nodes in a grid (idealising their positions slightly but no more than necessary), and then partition that grid into a number of smaller shapes following set rules.

You can invent your own challenges of this type (and I’d be interested to read about them in the comments), but here is an example that I have solved for all three remote controls in my possession.

Partition the remote control into multiple rectangular grids, such that there’s a grid containing one button, a grid containing two buttons, a grid containing three buttons, and so on, until there aren’t enough buttons left for another grid. It’s most elegant if you make each grid as “square” as possible (i.e. better 2×2 than 1×4, better 2×3 than 1×6, etc). Are yours solveable?

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Festival in review

In February I wrote about the events that I’d chosen to go to at this year’s Adelaide Fringe Festival, and for general information about those items, please read that post. What follows are my personal reflections after the event. It’s taken me a while to write this, partly because I’ve been busy, partly because my Internet connection has been patchy, and partly because reviews are not a form of writing that come naturally to me. I’ve ordered the descriptions by genre rather than chronologically, but first here’s a chronological list of all the items I saw:

  • 1st March: Time-Travelling Magicians
  • 6th March: Fleeto
  • 10th March: Faraday’s Candle
  • 11th March: The Galileo Project [not Fringe]
  • 13th March: The Origin of Species
  • 15th March: Eidolon
  • 17th March: Seven Stories

The first and last of these items were both magic acts, so in a sense the entire season was framed by magic. However, I have to say that out of everything I went to, the magic acts were my least favourite. I love magic, but after all it is the one art that’s supposed to be held to an impossible standard.

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Gen, and other links

Most of this post is targetted at people who have dabbled in the art of language invention, aka conlanging, and in places it will be a little technical. For everyone else, let me recommend links on miscellaneous subjects like parasites that may affect your thoughts, the science of forgetting, the history of sleep, or violin strings made by spiders. Or if you’re interested in language and understand some basic phonetics, you can read on.

Two weeks ago I wrote a blog post full of nonsense words, which I hoped would get people pondering a bit. This was output from a web page by Mark Rosenfelder called “Gen“, which generates nonsense text based on rules specified by the user. In other words, it produces the illusion of a language tweaked to your own aesthetic taste. Anyway, one day I was playing around with it when suddenly I noticed my name — adrian — in the output text. Here is the screenshot from when this took place.

You could take this in any number of ways. You could suggest that the program is alive and trying to communicate with me (Rosenfelder suggested this). You could interpret it as a sign that I’m destined to create a language based on this particular configuration. If you have absolutely no sense of humour, you could dismiss it as a coincidence.

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Playing with Ganjifa (Part II)

This is the second of two blog posts about Ganjifa cards. In the first, I showed sample cards from my own deck (which I bought from a playing card museum in Germany), suggested suitable English names for the eight suits, and shared some thoughts on how to shuffle them.

In this sequel, I’ll describe a game I’ve invented especially for Ganjifa. For the international deck of cards we’re all familiar with, there are hundreds of games of many different types, each type radically different from the next. But the traditional playing cards of India have never proliferated in the same way, and far fewer games are played with them (even those few are difficult to find information on). This need not be the case. I propose we enrich the potential of Ganjifa cards by inventing new games, taking inspiration from games that use the familiar deck of hearts, diamonds, spades and clubs, and changing them to take advantage of a deck with twice as many suits and cards that are circular instead of rectangular. They are surely worthy of the attention. Also, let us build on each other’s inventions to create families of related games.

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General updates 2011: July (including new Zazzle product)

Everything’s going well in preparation for my upcoming holiday and computer upgrade.

The last time I mentioned the upgrade plans was in May, when I’d just started getting prepared. Back then I was cleaning up old files and emails. Since then I’ve made sure that customisation settings for various programs are backed up, and compiled a two-page document with notes about all the software I have installed. It’s a kind of checklist to make sure everything is upgraded correctly.

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Saying goodbye to colleagues

At the graphic design place where I work, we recently said goodbye to some colleagues, and to mark the occasion, each of us designed one page for a farewell book.

Here is mine. You will want to click it in order to see the full-size picture.

I was very happy with this. My only training in graphic design is what I’ve learned on the job, and right now I’d say this represents the best I can do. It helps that there was no client I had to appease, so I was free to do everything my way and incorporate all my favourite Indesign features. What do you think of it?

Image sources: Background; Inner circle (clockwise from top): [1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8]

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