written and posted by members of Lancashire Dead Good Poets' Society

Saturday 4 March 2023

Gutta Percha

What a strange pair of words. Gutta Percha - often hyphenated, sometimes not. Together, they constitute perhaps the most niche/obscure theme in the history of Dead Good blogging. Luckily we've had two most illuminating posts on topic already this week, courtesy of Pam Winning and Terry Quinn, and I urge you to check out their fascinating blogs. That leaves me angling for something different to say, but I have to give a bit of context first, so here's a gutta percha précis.

extracting the sap
The words, from the Malay, translate literally as latex of Sumatra, and the natives of that island in the Malaysian archipelago had been tapping their Palaquium trees for rubbery sap for hundreds of years before European explorers took an interest. The Malays had found that gutta percha possesses what we know today as excellent thermoplastic qualities, it being a polymer, unlike other forms of rubber. This meant it was malleable when heated (even in boiling water), but crystalline and therefore strong and durable once it cooled and set. They used gutta percha to fashion relatively crude domestic utensils, knife-handles and walking-sticks.

When the Europeans seized upon it in the 18th and 19th centuries they recognised a material with properties that would allow them to manufacture a range of both extruded and moulded products at reasonable working temperature, for gutta percha latex did not require vulcanising as other types of latex do. In the 1840s, the Gutta Percha Company was founded in Stratford, East London, by Bewley and Hancock. It imported raw gutta percha by sea from Malaya and fashioned it into a wide range of items from tubular insulation for cables to bottle-stops, jewellery and jewellery boxes, ornate picture frames (see below), rims for spectacles, chess-pieces, clocks, animal figurines, and even furniture, as well as those canes and walking-sticks much as the Malays had done, but in more refined detail and in commercialised industrial quantities. 

gutta-percha picture frame
Of course other companies manufactured products from gutta percha as well, not just in Britain but on the continent and in the USA, making the usual moulded ornamental artefacts such as canes and walking-sticks, figurines, mirror and picture frames, furniture, handles for cutlery and umbrellas, jewellery, lamp-stands, hearing trumpets (again, see below) and tea-trays, plus a few more surprising items including dildos and golf balls (and the less said about the last two of those, the better).

Gutta percha then became a well-known phrase in everyday use in many European languages until the product began to be superseded in the 20th century by more modern, synthetic materials such as Bakelite, Nylon, Perspex and a whole range of polys - polypropylene, polystyrene and polyvinyl chloride (PVC). Its modern usage is now almost entirely in the dental sector, as a filling material for root canal work. 

What I find most fascinating is the way that such words come into and pass out of currency with time and technological advances. I'd never heard of gutta percha before a few weeks ago, and I suspect the same is true for many of you reading this, and yet a hundred years ago pretty much everyone would have known what it was, along with drugget (a coarse fabric floor covering), heliograph (a solar morse messaging device), jipper (meat broth or dripping) and teagie (a tea gown).

What words or phrases from our own lifetimes are set eventually for the same curious obscurity? How about cassette, cheque, lorgnette, scrumping, tax disc, twin tub or zozzled? Who knows? That's the frustration of the future. It doesn't speak to us very clearly. 

gutta-percha hearing trumpet
Which leads me on to this latest extrusion from the imaginarium, a Malay monologue perhaps...

Gilded
Speak up and plain if you will. I grow a trifle deaf.
I tire of living with this insufferable heat. The wax,
you know, so thick and sticky with it. Like glue ear

when I was a boy. Talk straight into this trumpet as
it's meant to magnify the sound. Though damned if
it makes much difference. Tell why do they refer to

my wife as Madame Ormolu? I clearly heard it said.
And winding up was mentioned too. Is she aware? I
would know but dare not ask her to her face for fear

of causing some distress. A harmless joke you think?
Or does such disrespect signify a problem I must do
something about? It's a tricky, taxing mess. So speak

and plain if you will. I grow a trifle vexed. Also does
regular as clockwork mean anything to you? I tire of
living with this insufferable heat. Give me some clue.

Thanks for reading, S ;-)

21 comments:

Billy Banter said...

You're right, never heard of it! (Interesting though.) 👍

Debbie Laing said...

Yes, an interesting read and intriguing poem.

Nigella D said...

It's a shame that teagies ever went out of fashion. They sound fun. I'm not sure I totally got your poem this time.

Boz said...

Antiques Roadshow territory la! 😉

Jen McDonagh said...

I'm sure my grandparents had one of those gutta-percha tea trays. It was dark brown and really old. (Or it may just have been bakelite.) Anyway, a very interesting read and monologue poem.

Peter Fountain said...

Gutta-percha was a new one on me, though I do remember bread and jipper teas from when I was a nipper! I liked the picture in the ornate frame. Assume she was middle-eastern and not Malay, but maybe your inspiration for Madame Ormolu?

Ross Madden said...

When I first clocked the title I thought this was going to be about pigeons or starlings. This is much more niche, as you say, and fascinating with it. What inspired the poem? It has the hint of 'White Mischief' about it. Intriguing for sure. 👏

Steve Rowland said...

I've no idea about the lady in the frame. Apparently it's a French 19th century artefact, so maybe she's Algerian or Moroccan. What actually inspired the poem (apart from the hearing trumpet) was my reading recently 'Passage Of Arms' by Eric Ambler, set in 1950s Malaya and Sumatra.

Miriam Fife said...

I'd heard the word(s) but didn't know gutta-percha was a type of hard rubber. As for words that might go out of fashion, how about cigarette? The poem in interesting but I did wonder how a man whose grown a trifle deaf could hear some things plainly said - or maybe it's all in his imagination?

Caroline Asher said...

Intrigued by the history of gutta percha, and by the poem (which needs a little thinking about).

Roger Wakeley said...

It must just be the way my mind works, but I thought we were in for something far more saucy from a blog about rubber, with a sexy lady in a frame and what I thought was a whip (turned out to be a hearing trumpet). 😂

Anyway, a great read as usual, though I share a confusion with the narrator of your Gilded poem as to what is going in there. Is that deliberate?

Becca Riley said...

Totally niche, but thanks to your well-presented resumé I am wiser now!

Lizzie Fentiman said...

Interesting and written with your usual panache. As I read the poem, an old colonial buffer is being two-timed by his trophy wife?

Dominic Mahon said...

Interesting about gutta percha and a thought-provoking question about words that may eventually vanish from everyday speech. I wonder for how many more decades we will have physical newspapers. Your monologue poem flows well.

Marianne Gevers said...

I've just read another blog, about Matisse, and seeing the woman pictured in the gutta-percha frame made me think of his paintings of odalisques.

Jodie Ridehaulgh said...

Very interesting Steve. I'd not heard of it before. As for doomed words, typewriter must be on the danger list. TBH I wasn't sue what to make of the poem...the fussings of a madman?

David Thomson said...

From what you said about the properties of gutta-percha I did wonder if they might have pressed records out of it in the days before vinyl, but I suppose not. I thought the trumpet was a whip until I read the caption and the poem.

Ozzie Blake said...

Bravo Steve, constantly expanding our range of knowledge (useful or otherwise ;). This was fascinating and I loved the phrase "That's the frustration of the future, it doesn't speak to us very clearly." I like the poem, assume it's about an ineffectual man trying to come to terms with the possibility of an unfaithful wife?

Anonymous said...

Yes, I've heard of it- had not a clue what it was. It was an enlightening read Steve, thank you.

Poppy Deveraux said...

I found your gutta-percha précis interesting. Ditto the illustrations. I'm supposing they influenced your poem. Was gutta-percha ever gilded, I wonder?

Millie Baxter said...

I didn't know gutta-percha existed, or that it is still used in dentistry. As to your poem, it disturbs with its theme of bewilderment and undertone of betrayal, so I suppose it succeeds.