MICRODOTSIn this current-day boom of privacy breaches and
frequent online hacks, perhaps we could learn a thing or two from
the microdots of yore. These feats of photographic innovation
first came about during the Franco-Prussian War in 1870, thanks
to a photographer named René Dagron. At the time, important
correspondence was sent via carrier pigeon – a vehicle that made
sense for succinct, to-the-point messages, but certainly nothing
detailed or secretive in nature. René’s brilliant solution? Create a
teeny-tiny photo, laden with information and viewable only with
a special magnifying piece of equipment. The pigeons were still
used to transport the messages, but could now subtly carry dozens
at once. At around one millimetre in diameter – approximately the
size of a typographic full stop – the microdot was quickly snapped
up as a wartime tool to keep uninvited eyes at bay. The trick was
a special photographic shrinking technique that could reduce an
entire document to a single dot – and, when feathered couriers
weren’t appropriate, secret messages could be embedded within
a postcard, ring or cufflinks. These were disguised as a simple gift,
offered with an accompanying microdot reader that was cleverly
hidden in a cigarette or fountain pen.
...................WHISTLED LANGUAGESHow to communicate with a friend who’s
standing far across the plains? Don’t bother shouting – try whistling
instead. Long before the advent of the mobile phone, folks have
devised their own whistled languages to reach each other across
great distances. In the tiny Greek mountain town of Antia, for
instance, locals developed a melodic, bird-like whistle only they can
understand – complete with grammar, vocabulary and full sentence
structure. The language,Sfyria, dates back nearly 2500 years, when itwas commonly used by shepherds across the valleys (perhaps
to warn of nearby invaders). Meanwhile, halfway around the world,
the Hmong people in the foothills of the Himalayas continue to
keep their own whistled language alive – the shrill, piercing notes
manage to cut through dense forests and across vast fields. At
times, whistled notes are even used for courtship and seduction.
Not in a creepy way, though – young couples have been known to
create their own personal codes, deterring eavesdroppers and
allowing them to hold intimate conversations in public.
...................KNITTED CODE We all know the stereotypical image of a spy:
a mysterious individual perched on a park bench in a trench
coat, newspaper obscuring their identity. But in reality, during
World Wars I and II, spies had a far craftier disguise: knitting. The
domestic activity exited the home and became ubiquitous in public
spaces, as women were encouraged to knit socks and hats for
soldiers whenever they could. In fact, so innocuous was the sight
of an older woman knitting in public, that Belgium hired these
nimble-fingered dames to do just that while positioned casually
near train yards. They observed and eavesdropped, creating
coded stitches – a sequence of purls and gaps in a predetermined
pattern – to communicate the goings-on of enemy forces. The
knitted code would then be handed to a nearby soldier, under the
guise of keeping them all rugged up from the cold. It may sound
simple, but orbs of wool weren’t the only balls the crafty ladies
needed – as espionage agents, they were bravely risking their
lives. So, the next time you sit down to stitch up a woolly scarf,
spare a thought for the stealthy crafters – and their fast-moving
needles – that came before you.Photo
Lukasz Wierzbowski
learn something new