Walking as Art
Literature & Mythology
“She cursed the weaver and the walker,
The cloth that they had wrought.”
To walk, therefore, is to roll along, as the machine in felting hats
or fulling cloth.
E. Cobham Brewer, The Dictionary of Phrase and Fable 1894
Isn’t it really quite extraordinary to see that, since man took his
first steps, no one has asked himself why he walks, how he walks, if he
has ever walked, if he could walk better, what he achieves in walking…
questions that are tied to all the philosophical, psychological, and political
systems which preoccupy the world?
Honoré
de Balzac, Théorie de la démarche
(Theory of Walking),
I make no separation between dance as an art and dance as a therapy. Every art has a therapeutic effect both on the artist and on the observer. Franziska Boas
The person who walks with short and slow steps is a person who starts his business sluggishly and does not pursue a goal Aristotle
Rise up, take up thy bed, and walk.
I have met with but one or two persons
in the course of my life who understand the art of Walking, that is, of
taking walks, who had a genius, so to speak, for sauntering.
Henry
David Thoreau
Everything is within walking distance
if you have the time.
Stephen
Wright
... there is no real need for gharries and rickshaws; they only exist
because Orientals consider it vulgar to walk.
George Orwell, Down and Out in
Our nature lies in movement; complete calm is death. Pascal, Pensées
Solvitur ambulando … “It is solved by walking.” St.Augustine
A Catholic priest walks as if Heaven belonged to him.; a Protestant
clergyman, on the contrary, goes about as if he had leased it.
Heinrich Heine,
Journey
to
A walk for walk's sake. Paul Klee
My very walk should be a jig. Shakespeare (Twelfth Night)
'Will you walk a little faster?' said a whiting to a snail, 'There's a porpoise close behind us, and he's treading on my tail.' Lewis Carroll
A woman preaching is like a dog walking on his hinder legs. It is not done well; but you are surprised to find it done at all. Samuel Johnson
All truly great thoughts are conceived by walking. Friedrich Nietzsche
Angels whisper to a man when he goes for a walk. Raymond Inmon
The function of muscle is to pull and not to push, except in the case of the genitals and the tongue. Leonardo Da Vinci
I just put my feet in the air and move them around. Fred Astaire
It is good to collect things, but it is better to go on walks.Anatole
I have heard, but not believed, the spirits of the dead May walk again. Shakespeare
When was it she last walked? Shakespeare
The longest journey begins with a single step. Lao Tsu, Tao Te Ching
Boots--boots--boots--boots--movin' up and down again! Rudyard Kipling, Boots
Why do we even bother to read palms? Feet are so much more revealing. Elizabeth Kastor (1994)
I can never bring you to realize the importance of sleeves, the suggestiveness
of thumbnails, or the great issues that may hang from a bootlace.
Sherlock Holmes to Watson ("A Case of Identity")
Clearly we have a richer, more complicated relationship with our shoes than we do with, say, our sweaters. Elizabeth Kastor (1994)
He even walked like a crab, as if he were cringing all the time.EliaKazan, commenting on actor James Dean (Dalton 1984:53)
Her tongue did walk in foul reproach. Spenser
We walk perversely with God, and he will walk crookedly toward us Jer. Taylor
As we walk our earthly round Keble
'Tis as if they should make the standard for the measure we call foot, a Chancellor's foot; what an uncertain measure would that be? One Chancellor has a long foot, another a short foot, a third an indifferent foot. John Selden (1689)
I will rather trust . . . a thief to walk my ambling gelding Shakespeare
Amid the sound of steps that beat The murmuring walks like rain Bryant.
He opened a boundless walk for his imagination Pope.
She walked a spinning wheel into the house, making it use first one and then the other of its own spindling legs to achieve progression rather than lifting it by main force C. E. Craddock.
He who stumbles and does not fall mends his pace. Spanish proverb
Good walking leaves no track behind it. Lao Tsu, Tao Te Ching
Some do not walk at all; others walk in the highways; a few walk across lots. Henry David Thoreau, Walking
While I was looking at him he raised it sharply, and at once stopped. I am certain he did, but that pause was nothing more perceptible than a faltering check in his gait, instantaneously overcome. Then he continued his approach, looking at us steadily. Miss Haldin signed to me to remain, and advanced a step or two to meet him. Joseph Conrad, Under Western Eyes (chapter 4)
The cold within him froze his old features, nipped his pointed nose, shrivelled his cheek, stiffened his gait; made his eyes red, his thin lips blue; and spoke out shrewdly in his grating voice. Charles Dickens, A Christmas Carol (chapter 1, describing Scrooge)
Some said he was poor, some said he was a wealthy miser; but he said
nothing, never lifted up his bowed head, never varied his shuffling gait
by getting his springless foot from the ground. ... He appeared to
be an artist by profession, and to have been at Rome some time; yet he
had a slight, careless, amateur way with him—a
perceptible limp, both in his devotion to art and his attainments—whichClennam
could scarcely understand.
Charles Dickens, Little Dorritt
Miss Tox was a lady of what is called
a limited independence, which she turned to the best account. Possibly
her mincing gait encouraged the belief, and suggested that her clipping
a step of ordinary compass into two or three, originated in her habit of
making the most of everything.
Charles Dickens, Dombey & Son
`Certainly, he is not like Mr. Knightley.
He has not such a fine air and way of walking as Mr. Knightley.
I see the difference plain enough.
But Mr. Knightley is so very
fine a man!' ... What say you to Mr. Weston and Mr. Elton?
Compare Mr. Martin with either of them. Compare their manner of carrying
themselves; of walking; of speaking; of being silent. You must see the
difference.'
Jane Austen, Emma (chapter 4)
"Yes, very: but what makes you limp so, my child?"
"Mine foot's come hurted again!" Bruno
mournfully replied. And he sat down on the ground, and began nursing it.
Lewis Carroll, Sylvie and Bruno (chapter 21)
...she either didn’t like his wooden leg, or she’d some notion about his being a hypocrite. Happen (for women is queer hands—we may say that amangwerseln when there’s none of ’em nigh) she’d have encouraged him, in spite of his leg and deceit—just to pass time like. The Bronte Sisters, Shirley
I like long walks, especially when they are taken by people who annoy me. Fred Allen
He who limps is still walking. Stanislaw J. Lec
It is a great art to saunter. Henry David Thoreau, 1841
Of all exercises walking is the best. Thomas Jefferson
I was the world in which I walked. Wallace Stevens, Tea at the Palaz of Hoon
Walking is the great adventure, the first meditation, a practice of heartiness and soul primary to humankind. Walking is the exact balance between spirit and humility. Gary Snyder, The Practice of the Wild
People usually consider walking on water or in thin air a miracle. But I think the real miracle is not to walk either on water or in thin air, but to walk on earth. Every day we are engaged in a miracle which we don't even recognize: a blue sky, white clouds, green leaves, the black, curious eyes of a child -- our own two eyes. All is a miracle. ThichNhatHanh
Let no one be deluded that a knowledge of the path can substitute for putting one foot in front of the other. M. C. Richards
All walking is discovery. On foot we take the time to see things whole. Hal Borland
Before supper take a little walk, after supper do the same. Erasmus
I am a slow walker, but I never walk backwards. Abraham Lincoln
I see men as trees, walking. St. Mark 8:24
She walks in beauty, like the night. Byron
I wish I loved the Human Race... I wish I liked the way it walks.
The people in
Of small stature, he stands on a basis, at most for the flattest-soled,
of some half-square foot, insecurely enough; has to straddle out his legs,
lest the very wind suplant him. Feeblest
of bipeds! Three quintals are a crushing load for him; the steer of the
meadow tosses him aloft like a waste rag.
Thomas Carlyle, Works (London: Chapman & Hall; 1897-99) Vol 1:p32.
Much of what is thought to be physical in the Jew is really social.
The shambling walk, for instance, that characterizesso
many ghetto Jews is frequently ascribed to an innate physical peculiarity,
and we are told that "all Jews have flat feet." But flat feet are cause
for rejection from the Army and the Navy, and tehre
are far too many Jews in the armed services for this to be universal, or
even an unusually common, defect among them. Something of the same walk
is noticeable among Negroes and is in fact as indispensible,
in a humorously exaggerated form, to Negro comedians and blackface funny-men
as are rolling eyes and shaking knees.
Bergen Evans, The Natural History of Nonsense, p218
He who stands on tiptoe is not steady.
He who strides cannot maintain the pace.
Lao Tsu, Tao Te Ching
The traditional posture of the Japanese population… was that of a
stooped back, and four limbs bent. Even when walking the knees were kept
bent, and there was no counterbalancing swing of the arms.NomuraMasichi,
Remodelling the Japanese Body, in Culture Embodied, ed Moerman
& Nomura
Feet, what do I need you for? I have wings to fly.
FridaKahlo
I can only meditate when I am walking. When I stop I cease to think; my mind only works with my legs.
Rousseau, The Confessions
In the beginning was the foot.
Marvin Harris, Cultural Anthropology (1987)
A pair of peasant shoes voices a distinct relationship between the
wearer and the earth.
Martin Heidegger, Poetry, Language, Thought
I love
Gaugin
Each person knows that somewhere it is recorded the moment she was born, the moment she took her first step, the moment of her first passion, the moment she said goodbye to her parents. Alan Lightman, Einstein's Dreams
Max Beerbohm, Going Out For a Walk (1918)
taken out for walks; but that is another matter. Even while I trotted prattling by
my nurse's side I regretted the good old days when I had, and wasn't, a
perambulator. When I grew up it seemed to me that the one advantage of living
in
very drawbacks--its endless noise and bustle, its smoky air, the squalor
ambushed everywhere in it--assured this one immunity. Whenever I was with
friends in the country, I knew that at any moment, unless rain were actually
falling, some man might suddenly say "Come out for a walk!" in that sharp
imperative tone which he would not dream of using in any other connexion.
People seem to think there is something inherently noble and virtuous in the
desire to go for a walk. Any one thus desirous feels that he has a right to
impose his will on whomever he sees comfortably settled in an arm-chair,
reading. It is easy to say simply "No" to an old friend. In the case of a mere
acquaintance one wants some excuse. "I wish I could, but"-nothing ever occurs
to me except "I have some letters to write." This formula is unsatisfactory in
three ways. (1) It isn't believed. (2) It compels you to rise from your chair, go
to the writing-table, and sit improvising a letter to somebody until the
walkmonger (just not daring to call you liar and hypocrite) shall have lumbered
out of the room. (3) It won't operate on Sunday mornings. "There's no post out
till this evening" clinches the matter; and you may as well go quietly.
Walking for walking's sake may
be as highly laudable and exemplary a thing as
it is held to be by those who practise it. My objection to it
is that it stops the
brain. Many a man has professed to me that his brain never works
so well as
when he is swinging along the high road or over hill and dale.
This boast is not
confirmed by my memory of anybody who on a Sunday morning has
forced me
to partake of his adventure. Experience teaches me that whatever
a
fellow-guest may have of power to instruct or to amuse when he
is sitting on a
chair, or standing on a hearth-rug, quickly leaves him when he
takes one out for
a walk. The ideas that came so thick and fast to him in any room,
where are
they now? where that encyclopaedic knowledge which he bore so
lightly?
where the kindling fancy that played like summer lightning over
any topic that
was started? The man's face that was so mobile is set now; gone
is the light
from his fine eyes. He says that A. (our host) is a thoroughly
good fellow. Fifty
yards further on, he adds that A. is one of the best fellows
he has ever met. We
tramp another furlong or so, and he says that Mrs. A. is a charming
woman.
Presently he adds that she is one of the most charming women
he has ever
known. We pass an inn. He reads vapidly aloud to me: "The King's
Arms.
Licensed to sell Ales and Spirits." I foresee that during the
rest of the walk he
will read aloud any inscription that occurs. We pass a milestone.
He points at it
with his stick, and says "Uxminster.
11 Miles." We turn a sharp corner at the
foot of a hill. He points at the wall, and says "Drive Slowly."
I see far ahead, on
the other side of the hedge bordering the high road, a small
notice-board. He
sees it too. He keeps his eye on it. And in due course "Trespassers,"
he says,
"Will Be Prosecuted." Poor man!--mentally a wreck.
Luncheon at the A.s, however, salves
him and floats him in full sail. Behold him
once more the life and soul of the party. Surely he will never,
after the bitter
lesson of this morning, go out for another walk. An hour later,
I see him striding
forth, with a new companion. I watch him out of sight. I know
what he is
saying. He is saying that I am rather a dull man to go a walk
with. He will
presently add that I am one of the dullest men he ever went a
walk with. Then
he will devote himself to reading out the inscriptions.
How comes it, this immediate deterioration in those who go walking
for
walking's sake? Just what happens? I take
it that not by his reasoning faculties
is a man urged to this enterprise. He is urged, evidently, by
something in him
that transcends reason; by his soul, I presume. Yes, it must
be the soul that raps
out the "Quick march!" to the body. -"Halt! Stand at ease!" interposes
the
brain, and "To what destination," it suavely asks the soul, "and
on what errand,
are you sending the body?" --"On no errand whatsoever," the soul
makes
answer, "and to no destination at all. It is just like you to
be always on the
look-out for some subtle ulterior motive. The body is going out
because the
mere fact of its doing so is a sure indication of nobility, probity,
and rugged
grandeur of character." --"Very well, Vagula,
have your own wayula! But I,"
says the brain, "flatly refuse to be mixed up in this tomfoolery.
I shall go to sleep
till it is over." The brain then wraps itself up in its own convolutions,
and falls
into a dreamless slumber from which nothing can rouse it till
the body has been
safely deposited indoors again.
Even if you go to some definite place, for some definite purpose,
the brain
would rather you took a vehicle; but it does not make a point
of this; it will
serve you well enough unless you are going out for a walk. It
won't, while your
legs are vying with each other, do any deep thinking for you,
nor even any close
thinking; but it will do any number of small odd jobs for you
willingly-provided
that your legs, also, are making themselves useful, not merely
bandying you
about to gratify the pride of the soul. Such as it is, this essay
was composed in
the course of a walk, this morning. I am not one of those extremists
who must
have a vehicle to every destination. I never go out of my way,
as it were, to
avoid exercise. I take it as it comes, and take it in good part.
That
valetudinarians are always chattering about it, and indulging
in it to excess, is no
reason for despising it. I am inclined to think that in moderation
it is rather good
for one, physically. But, pending a time when no people wish
me to go and see
them, and I have no wish to go and see any one, and there is
nothing whatever
for me to do off my own premises, I never will go out for a walk.
Gustave Flaubert: failed surgery for talipes
Madame Bovary: Part II, Chapter 11
and as he was a partisan of progress, he conceived the patriotic idea
that Yonville, in order to keep to the fore, ought to have some
operations for strephopody or club-foot.
"For," said he to Emma, "what risk is there? See--" (and he
enumerated on his fingers the advantages of the attempt), "success,
almost certain relief and beautifying of the patient, celebrity acquired
by the operator. Why, for example, should not your husband relieve
poor Hippolyte of the 'Lion d'Or'?
Note that he would not fail to tell
about his cure to all the travellers, and then" (Homais
lowered his voice
and looked round him) "who is to prevent me from sending a short
paragraph on the subject to the paper? Eh! goodness me! an article
gets about; it is talked of; it ends by making a snowball! And who
knows? who knows?"
The operation
kind of box made by the carpenter, with the aid of the locksmith, that
weighed about eight pounds, and in which iron, wood, sheer-iron,
leather, screws, and nuts had not been spared.
But to know which of Hippolyte's tendons
to cut, it was necessary first
of all to find out what kind of club-foot he had.
He had a foot forming almost a straight line with the leg, which,
however, did not prevent it from being turned in, so that it was an
equinus together with something of a varus, or else a slight varus with
a strong tendency to equinus. But with this equinus, wide in foot like
a
horse's hoof, with rugose skin, dry tendons, and large toes, on which
the black nails looked as if made of iron, the clubfoot ran about like
a
deer from morn till night. He was constantly to be seen on the Place,
jumping round the carts, thrusting his limping foot forwards. He
seemed even stronger on that leg than the other. By dint of hard
service it had acquired, as it were, moral qualities of patience and
energy; and when he was given some heavy work, he stood on it in
preference to its fellow.
Now, as it was an equinus, it was necessary to cut the tendon of
Achilles, and, if need were, the anterior tibial muscle could be seen to
afterwards for getting rid of the varus; for the doctor did not dare to
risk
both operations at once; he was even trembling already for fear of
injuring some important region that he did not know.
Neither Ambrose Pare, applying for the first time since Celsus,
after
an interval of fifteen centuries, a ligature to an artery, nor Dupuytren,
about to open an abscess in the brain, nor Gensoul
when he first took
away the superior maxilla, had hearts that trembled, hands that shook,
minds so strained as Monsieur Bovary when he approached
Hippolyte, his tenotome between his fingers.
And as at hospitals, near
by on a table lay a heap of lint, with waxed thread, many bandages--a
pyramid of bandages--every bandage to be found at the druggist's. It
was Monsieur Homais who since morning had
been organising all
these preparations, as much to dazzle the multitude as to keep up his
illusions. Charles pierced the skin; a dry crackling was heard. The
tendon was cut, the operation over. Hippolyte
could not get over his
surprise, but bent over Bovary's hands to cover them with kisses."
The result
the box was removed, and an awful sight presented itself. The outlines
of the foot disappeared in such a swelling that the entire skin seemed
about to burst, and it was covered with ecchymosis, caused by the
famous machine. Hippolyte had already complained of suffering from
it. No attention had been paid to him; they had to acknowledge that he
had not been altogether wrong, and he was freed for a few hours. But,
hardly had the oedema gone down to some extent, than the two
savants thought fit to put back the limb in the apparatus, strapping it
tighter to hasten matters. At last, three days after, Hippolyte being
unable to endure it any longer, they once more removed the machine,
and were much surprised at the result they saw. The livid tumefaction
spread over the leg, with blisters here and there, whence there oozed
a black liquid. Matters were taking a serious turn. Hippolyte began to
worry himself, and Mere Lefrancois, had him installed in the little room
near the kitchen, so that he might at least have some distraction.
Cinderella
The earliest recorded version of the tale comes from
Although a reference to the story exists in 16th century German literature, the next written version of the story comes from Charles Perrault in his Contes de ma Mere L'Oye in 1697. From this version, we received the fairy godmother, the pumpkin carriage, the animal servants, and the glass slippers. Perrault recorded the story that was told to him by storytellers while adding these touches for literary effect. Some scholars think Perrault confused "vair" (French for "ermine or fur") with "verre" (French for "glass") to account for Cinderella's admittedly uncomfortable footwear. Perrault's version has a more humane ending with Cinderella finding husbands for her sisters.
The Grimm Brothers' German version, known as Aschenputtel or Ash Girl does not have a fairy godmother. The heroine plants a tree on her mother's grave from which all of the magical help appears in the form of a white dove. The stepsisters have their eyes pecked by birds from the tree to punish them for their cruelty. Perrault's version is considerably more forgiving than this version.
In modern times, the tale of Cinderella has inspired countless picture books, musicals, novels, and dreams of little girls. Versions of the tale have been collected and printed from Vietnam, Italy, Egypt, Australia, and the Algonquin Indians, to name a few.
G.K. Chesterton, The Queer Feet
'You see, colonel,' he said, 'I was shut up in that small room there doing some writing, when I heard a pair of feet in this passage doing a dance that was as queer as the dance of death. First came quick, funny little steps, like a man walking on tiptoe for a wager; then came slow, careless, creaking steps, as of a big man walking about with a cigar. But they were both made by the same feet, I swear, and they came in rotation; first the run and then the walk, and then the run again. I wondered at first idly and then wildly why a man should act these two parts at once. One walk I knew; it was just like yours, colonel. It was the walk of a well-fed gentleman waiting for something, who strolls about rather because he is physically alert than because he is mentally impatient. I knew that I knew the other walk, too, but I could not remember what it was. What wild creature had I met on my travels that tore along on tiptoe in that extraordinary style? Then I heard a clink of plates somewhere; and the answer stood up as plain as St. Peter's. It was the walk of a waiter -- that walk with the body slanted forward, the eyes looking down, the ball of the toe spurning away the ground, the coat tails and napkin flying. Then I thought for a minute and a half more. And I believe I saw the manner of the crime, as clearly as if I were going to commit it.'Ben Jonson's heel bone
Hemingway
Douglas
Bader, Reach
for the Sky 
but came back to become one of the great flying aces of the Battle of Britain. This respectful
biography does not disguise the fact that Mr Bader must have been a forceful, difficult personality to
deal with. The Germans who imprisoned him after he was shot down certainly found him hard to
cope with. After numerous escape attempts they resorted to taking away his artificial legs, and
eventually sent him to the POW camp for perennial bad boys, Colditz. After the war Bader went on
to a successful career with a petroleum company and continued to fly his own plane all over the
world. This is not a dirt-digging, exposé biography such as is fashionable in these days of media
overload, but it is a bare-bones, well written story of a remarkable man's remarkable life.
Sir Kingsley Amis, Lucky Jim
The
central character is the antihero Jim Dixon, a junior faculty member at
a small university, who faces one disaster after another with his girlfriend
and professor. 'They made a silly mistake, though,' the Professor of History said,
and his smile, as
Dixon shook his head, 'I don't know, Professor,' he said in a sober
veracity. No other professor in
'Flute and piano.'
'Oh?'
'Flute and piano; not recorder and piano.' Welch laughed briefly.
'Now a recorder, you know, isn't like a flute, though it's the flute's
immediate ancestor, of course. To begin with, it's played, that's the recorder,
what they call àbec,
that's to say you blow into a shaped mouthpiece like that of an oboe or
a clarinet, you see. A present-day flute's played what's known as traverso,
in other words you blow across a hole instead of...'
The opening scene from Lucky Jim (1954)
Wendy Perriam, Tread Softly
British
novelist Wendy Perriam had the dubious honour
of winning the Literary Review's Bad Sex In Fiction award for her novel,
in which the 30-something heroine, sent to a geriatric nursing home to
convalesce after a botched bunion operation, has sex with her husband while
fantasising about her foot surgeon. She said: "I am absolutely stunned
to win, particularly for a novel about bunions."Convent-educated Perriam attributed her love of explicit scenes to her strict religious upbringing.
"Sex was never discussed either at home or at school and I never had any sex education. As a result I am fascinated by sex."
Rebecca Solnit: Wanderlust: A History of Walking
new "Wanderlust: A History of Walking," Rebecca Solnit writes that he
suggests "something of a pattern: autodidacts who took the trinity of radical
politics, love of nature, and pedestrianism to extremes." While I'm pretty sure
Solnit herself has a formal education, her astonishing range of reference and
her indefatigable curiosity suggest the passion of an autodidact, and in every
other respect she fits the pattern, too. Whether she takes this trinity to
extremes is a matter of interpretation, but you could argue that even the
attempt to write a history of walking -- arguably the defining human activity --
is itself extreme. Why not the history of talking, or breathing?
Of course, as Solnit points out, she has
written a history of walking, not the
history, which is all but infinite. Her history is, as she puts it, "an
idiosyncratic
path traced ... by one walker, with much doubling back and looking around."
That's accurate, if a little modest; "Wanderlust" is a delightful, mind-expanding
journey that strays from Søren Kierkegaard's
Copenhagen and William
Wordsworth's Lake District to the top of Everest and the New Mexico
desert, from the first hominids to walk upright (whoever and wherever they
were) to contemporary women who face the hazards of solitary walking. It's
a
journey led by a guide of tremendous erudition and just as much common
sense, capable of slipping almost imperceptibly from the personal mode
-- she
describes several entirely non-metaphorical walks -- to the analytical
and
back again without appearing self-indulgent. (Full disclosure: I've had
several
friendly conversations with Solnit but don't
know her well.)
Historically, walking has had many functions; for most people most of the
time, of course, it was the only method of getting from one place to another.
As Solnit says, "walking is a mode of making
the world as well as being in it,"
and it allows us to know "the world through the body and the body through
the world." This is not merely a theoretical construct. One of Solnit's
principal
concerns is that the connection between the body and the world that walking
exemplifies has begun to fade as we spend more and more time isolated in
technologized cells -- SUVs, offices, suburban
homes -- and trapped in a
culture that sees unstructured time alone in the world as inherently
unproductive.
In search of the multiple meanings of walking in (mostly) Western culture,
Solnit begins with the Athenian philosophers
-- although no one really knows
whether they walked to think -- and moves on through Jean Jacques
Rousseau, Kierkegaard and Wordsworth, who collectively promulgated the
romantic idea of solitary rambling as a contemplative exercise. Her
layperson's exegesis of the anthropological and anatomical debate on
bipedalism, or the question of when and why
our ancestors first rose up on
two legs, is a masterpiece of wit and economy. It's amusing, if not all
that
surprising, to learn that these discussions seem to be shaped as much by
contemporary concerns about gender roles as by science.
The breadth alone of the material that Solnit
has absorbed would have
thwarted me; she's read obscure 19th century memoirs of walking tours,
histories of mountaineering, feminist theory, studies of urban design,
Victorian
novels and Beat poetry. She knows more about the history of labyrinths
and
about the Renaissance mnemonic device called the memory palace than any
normal person should. She's at her very best, I think, when her passion
for
history and landscape meets her progressive politics. Her mini-chapter
on the
late 19th and early 20th century right-of-way battles between working people
and aristocrats in
beauty implied by the English landscape garden became democratized, is
rich
with brilliant observation and detail. Correspondingly, she's weaker as
a
literary critic and an urbanist; her chapter
on the literature of walking in
Her fine chapters on pedestrianism as a forum for protest and rebellion,
from
Paris to Prague to San Francisco, and on the methods of social control
that
have often prevented women from being walkers lead her finally to Las
Vegas, of all places. It's typical of Solnit's
daring and of her lyrical,
unquenchable optimism that she sees hope in
most theme-parked city. On the crowded sidewalks of the Strip, with its
synthetic volcanoes, pirate ships and Venetian canals recalling the 18th
century pleasure palaces of Europe, she finds evidence that "the thirst
for
places, for cities and gardens and wilderness, is unslaked,
that people will
seek out the experience of wandering about in the open air to examine the
architecture, the spectacles and the stuff for sale, will still hanker
after
surprises and strangers."
In the end, the guiding spirit of "Wanderlust," the lonely traveler
always in
view on Solnit's horizon, is not Wordsworth
or Rousseau but Walter
Benjamin, whose rambles through the streets of Paris had the sense of
wonder, the air of open-minded exploration and imminent discovery, of
Solnit's own journey. Solnit
observes the sexism and snobbery inherent in
Benjamin's idea of the flâneur, the
idle, solitary gentleman strolling through the
crowds, but she can't quite resist it. In describing Benjamin's writing
she
seems to be half-consciously describing her own: "more or less scholarly
in
subject, but full of beautiful aphorisms and leaps of imagination, a scholarship
of evocation rather than definition."
Shoe Books
To Walk, Gait, Posture and
Balance in different languages
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walk
stroll hike dawdle wander promenade march step stride lope amble scamper saunter scramble shuffle scurry slink tread meander trott |
gait
swagger
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poise
stiff
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(dys)equilibrium
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Antipodean
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swagger
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Australian
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Walkabout
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German - thanks to Ellen Freiberger
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wandern
spaziergehen laufen gehen trotten (to trott) schleichen (walk slowly ) schlurfen (walk with minimal foot clearance) Footnote: Schenkerla (the famous smoked Rauchbier from tavern in |
Gang
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Haltung
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Gleichgewicht
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French
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promenade
marcher |
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Italian
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camminarecorro
giro |
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Spanish - thanks to
Luis Commisso |
paseo
caminar andar caminar |
Quieto, (quietly)
Rapidamente, velozmente (quickly) Lentamente, (slowly) Cuidadosamente, (carefully) Con largos pasos (with long steps) Graciosamente (gracefully) |
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Desequilibrado, desbalanceado, inestable
(unsteadily) |
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Portuguese
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caminhada
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Latin
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ambulo
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pezoporo (to go on foot)
bhmatizo (to take steps) parelavno (to march) brathiporo (to walk slowly) argoporo (to walk slowly) tachiporo (to walk fast) periferome (to wander about; to make circles) trigirizo (to wander about) koutseno (to limp) choleno (to limp) robolo (to walk downhill) vadizo, vathizo
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pezoporia (going on foot) bimatismos (taking steps) parelasi (marching) bradiporia (walking slowly) perifora (walking about/ in circle) perpatima (walking) cholotita (limping) |
orthios (standing)
kathistos (sitting) ksaplomenos (lying down) gonatistos (kneeling) skimenos (stooped) diplomenos (bent) tentomenos (stretched; straight) strabos (crooked) isios (straight) |
isorropia (balance)
anisorropo (to lose balance) pefto (to fall) skontafto (to stumble) parapeo (to lose balance) koutrouvalao (to fall) |
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Hebrew
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darak
haliykah halak yalak |
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Dutch
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marcheren
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tippelenlopen
(prostitute walk)
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Welsh
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cerdded
llwybro rhodio tremynu |
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Irish (Gaelic) - thanks to Siobhan
Strike
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Siúl (walk)
Imeachtgrástuil (graceful walk) Gluaiseacht/coisich (walk) spaisdeóireachd (promenading) trosdán (a pace) |
gámus (proud gait
or carriage)
liug (a sneaking or lame gait) Crinndireach (really straight) Sodar (trot) cos in airde (gallop) Direach (upright) Corrach (unsteady) tapaidh, mear, gasta, (quick) arluaslasrach (fast as light) luathcosach (fleet of foot) Mall (slow) Mall gluaiseacht (slow motion) |
Suíomh, Staidiúir
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Scottish
& Gallic
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gang
coisich siubhail |
gàmag (a stride)
loireanach (male toddler) màigean (toddler) |
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cosheeaght
fow (roish) - buzz off, walk away shooylmygeayrt (walk about) troagyraght (march) |
lheibeidjagh (cumbersome
gait)
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Swedish
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gå, vandrapromenadgångpromeneravandring
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gång
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Danish
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gå
marchere spadseretur |
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Norwegian
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spasertur
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gangart
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Icelandic - thanks to Baldur Thorgilsson
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ganga (walk)
labba (walk) hlaupa (run) hoppa (jump) valhoppa (jump twice on each foot) kjaga (waddle la?ast (sneak) skjotast (scoot) stika (long steps) rafa (wander) skokka (jog) |
haltra limp
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likamssta?a |
jafnvagi
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kävellä/kävelen/käveli/kävellyt
olla kävelyllä kulkea/kuljen/kulki/kulkenut kulkeapitkin marssia käynti astuskella jaloitella kummitella pannaastumaankäymäjalkaa patikoida saattaa samoilla vaeltaa lyllertää/lyllerrän/lyllersi/lyllertänyt (waddle) kipittää/kipitän/kipitti/kipittänyt (scamper, walk quickly) harppoa/harpon/harppoi/harpponut (stride along) |
askellaji
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Hungarian
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gyaloglás
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testtartás
járásmód |
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Polish
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chodzic' (to walk)
spacerovac' ( go for a walk) drobic' (do short steps ) krok (step), kroki(steps) is'c' (to go) wychodzic' (go out) wchodzic' (come in) |
chwiejny-
(unbalanced) defiladovy- (goose-stepping) rovny- (rhythmical, decisive) |
wyprost (upright)
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ro'vnowaga (balance)
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Czech
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kracet (jit
pesky)
prochazet se (slow) chodit (pocem) - wander (flat) vzitnaprochazku (koho) - take somebody for a walk ucitchodit - teach walking nest (koho) - bear child cinitpomalypokrok zavodit v chuzi (s) - race walk prochazka - a walk promenada/kolonada pochodovat razovat prcat |
chuze (zpusob)
drzeni tela (zpusob) krok chod |
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Slovak
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chodit
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Croatian
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setati
puzati (crawl) trcati [trchati] (run) |
sepati (limp)
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 Latin script:
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 Latin script: pohodka |
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Turkish
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yürümek
yürüyerekgitmek üzerinde çikarmak gezdirmek gezinmek dolasmak yürüyüs gezinti yürüme yürüyüsyeri |
yürüyüs
gidis yürüyüsbiçimi |
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Gujerati
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haal
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Chinese
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Japanese
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aruku
ayumu sanpo |
ashidori
tekoteko (sound of walking) |
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Korean
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 guh-ruh-ga |
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Africans
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stap
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Swahili
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-tembea
-zinga -kongoja (unsteadily) -nyata (quietly) -tataga (quickly) -sita (slowly or uncertainly) -endakikongwe (bent over and with difficulty verb) -chechea (carefully) -tagaa (with long steps) -dundika (gracefully) -andamana (in a line) -bata (like a duck) |
enenzi
maenenziya pole (slow) maenenziya pole haraka pole (rapid) |
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Cherokee
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a-i-sv
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Wagiman(Australian)
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Wilh-ma
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Sanskrit
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kram, krAmati, kramate
vrajati |
padagati
caraNanyAsa vikrama yAta |
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Thai
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asana
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Esperanto
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mars^/i
promenado |
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