A battered cliché claims that "a picture is worth a thousand words," and another pertains that "the image speaks for itself." Demonstrating the way in which we prefer the visual and the apparent over the written and spoken.
The Design Museum Holon has chosen to dedicate an entire exhibit to visual communication and its ability to influence messages, culture, society and even emotions. Despite the power of the visual image, each exhibition opens with a curatorial text of at least 300 words and each of the 70 exhibited items is accompanied by a detailed and reasoned explanatory text. Guided tours are always offered to the general public, and mounds of texts are written as critiques of every exhibition. We still need a lot of words to understand the visual language in all its dimensions. But what can we do when there are no words and what is the role of spoken and written language in a field in which line, color, material, composition and texture - are so central?
The opening scene of the film All the President's Men  (Director: Alan J. Pakula, 1976) opens with an extreme close-up of the encounter between the keyboard key and bumpy paper.This encounter creates a gun-like sound. This is an early hint at the power inherent in the written word as a whole and in the power of print and the press in particular.With simple tools, the director manages to create an analogy between three factors: text, print and death. It has already been said in Hebrew that "the tongue holds power over life and death". This is not the first time that print is interpreted as having harmful or destructive implications.
Legend has it that in the middle ages the Catholic Church believed that two completely identical man-made objects, and are in fact the devil's creation. That is why printing - which allowed the duplication of texts and knowledge found in rare manuscripts – used to be called The Black Art.
The opening scene of the film All the President's Men (Director: Alan J. Pakula, 1976)
This belief found its expression not only in the name of the field, but also in the names assigned in English to professional terms. Terms derived from the world of death and the underworld were borrowed in English to describe the world of printing, and especially for the Letterpress printing. For example, the surface on which the printer's mechanical plate was placed is known in English as a coffin. The Devil's tail was the knob used to lower the flat panel against which the paper was pressed and pulling the handle was called "Pulling the Devil's tail". The box in which broken letters, which could not be used, were thrown so that their metal could be reused for the casting of new letters - was called the Hell Box. A final example would be the bleed - the amount of space added to the file around the design. This was a "security" area that should not be printed, but left room for minor errors in printing and / or cutting of the paper, ensuring that the graphics were attached to the edge of the paper without leaving a white space at the edge.
It is apparent then that the names of the terms used in English to describe printing terms, indicate much more than the function for which they were used. The choice of a particular term to describe action reflects cultural beliefs, ideologies, views, as well as cultural meanings. But while the professional terminology was borrowed in English from the world of death and the underworld, in Hebrew the members of the Hebrew Language Committee were required to find other sources of inspiration.
The shortage of suitable terms in Hebrew for printing and graphics was a real issue in 1929, when "Davar" published an open letter from the typesetter Eliezer Gottstein, who wrote: "There is a great miscommunication among typesetters, each of which uses the name of the material in the language they are most used to speaking. Among them: Setzschff, Shifel, Gali, Angle, Winkelhaken, Akkali, Konkordanz, Kowardart, Nadaf, Masderia etc., etc. [...] Is it not time for us, in the printing and graphic professions, to use Hebrew names, as is customary in many professions? He adds: "We do not know the names of the various letters either. There are those who call a kind of known letter after the author who it was printed for, for example, you can hear printers referring to "Petit-Uri-Zvi, Garamond-Jabotinsky, Cicero-Bistriki".
The Dictionary of Graphic Arts was created in order to address these needs – it was a bilingual Hebrew-German Illustrated dictionary: publish through the cooperation of three institutions: the Hebrew Language Committee, the Bialik Institute and the Bezalel Museum. The work on the dictionary began in 1927 at the meeting of a special committee of the Hebrew Language Committee, which included SY Agnon, Yosef Meyuchas and Eliezer Meir Lipschütz, joined by the Bezalel representatives, designer Meir Gur Aryeh and director of the Bezalel museum, Mordechai Narkiss. But its final publication was only in 1937, and Narkiss was the one who signed off on it. 
The Dictionary of Graphic Arts by Mordechai Narkiss, 1937
When Narkiss was required to determine how professional terminology in the field of printing and graphics would be translated from German into Hebrew, one of the ways in which he chose to translate these terms was "borrowing meaning" - the idea behind this method of defining terms is the transfer of new content and meaning to an existing dictionary value.
The new meaning can join the old one, or replace and extend the old meaning. In this translation method, the vocabulary of a language does not grow, but the semantic meaning of a particular value changes or expands. 
One of the main areas he chooses to borrow from is agriculture. He chose to call "the furrows rising up in the copper or wood board, while the engraving is engraved on them, "Talmit" (a furrow) and called the sunken line formed by the development of copper and etching "Maanit" – the name for a furrow opening when coming into contact with the plow in the field". 
Narkiss chooses to translate The German word Spatdruck - late print, into Hebrew as a Lakish - a slow growing plant and the word Kolumne, what we now call a typographic column - was defined by him as the word Aruga - "flower bed."
The borrowing of terms from the field of agriculture probably represents not only a technical method of translation, but also a desire to equate the need and importance of the graphic and printing work with working the land in the realization of the Zionist idea. Thus are embedded, ideological aspects of the Zionist movement, which encouraged the practice of agriculture as one of its central goals in the process of building Hebrew culture and language in Israel, even within the most basic element - the word.
 The plot of this film involves journalists Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein, who investigated the Watergate affair on behalf of the Washington Post. The investigation led to President Nixon's resignation following his attempt to sabotage the race for the election of his political rivals, among other ways, by breaking into the offices of the Democratic Party.
 The story of the creation of the dictionary can be read in detail here
 Raphael Nir, Word-Formation in Modern Hebrew, Tel Aviv, Open University,1993. p. 23
 Hurvitz-Livne, Tamar, "Nature and Print," in Print time : works from the Jerusalem Print Workshop and the Gottesman Etching Center, Kibbutz Cabri, edited by Ruti Ofek (Tefen Industrial Park: The Open Museum, 2013). 33