some interesting issues about how to think about condition. The continuum of mint to damaged has its origins in the world of art photography. In this collecting area people are very finicky about condition. Not only are art photography buyers interested in prints in perfect condition but they are scrupulous in examining the quality of the printing and other aspects of production. Some photo postcards were taken by photographers who are recognized in the art world as important. One can argue that these cards should be held to the condition standards of the art world. Very few photo postcards are of that kind.
The clash between art world sensibilities and postcard aesthetics vividly came to life for me a few years ago. I approached a curator of a local art museum about doing a show devoted to an outstanding real photo photographer, Henry Beach. I showed him a few images including the photo of the man, at left.
The man pictured, Huckleberry Charlie, was a local character who dressed in unusual outfits and sold newspapers and huckleberries in towns around Pine Camp, N.Y. The curator said that he loved the image but it was so small and the photographer had ruined it with the prominent caption. I tried to explain to him that the size and the caption did not ruin the picture; it was part and parcel of the genre. Like captions and size, condition is an issue that needs to be seen as part of the genre.
I recently purchased this RPPC of an African-American girl. Although it was never sent through the mail it has what collectors would call condition problems. There is some discoloring, rounding of the corners, and an illegible scribble down the left side. In addition to its condition, the card has printing flaws. The border of the image is ill-defined and there are large spots on the lower part where some impurities entered the printing process.
The picture falls far short of the art world criteria of mint. In spite of these alleged flaws I purchased it. After I examined it I decided that what others might see as problems actually enhanced the image. The imperfections conveyed the picture’s authenticity. This is not a picture taken by an outsider documentary photographer to depict the dominance of white culture on an African American child. It was probably taken by an amateur photographer who was an intimate of the child and unaware of the racial connotation we attribute to the portrait. The blemishes told me that the image had been touched by people who were close to the child and to their ancestors. This was a real document of life not a document created by an elite visitor to depict someone else’s life.
Most advanced collectors turn up their noses at cards with thumbtack holes. I own a number of cards with those holes. My assumption is that tacks were used by the original owner to display the card on his or her personal space. The hole provides tangible evidence that the image was important and meaningful enough to have it adorn the owner’s walls.
Signs of use and printing flaws can increase the aesthetics of the photo card, much like patina and wear enhance the beauty of folk art and other antiques. Pristine lily-white backs and unflawed prints are the requirements for a photograph hanging in art gallery. But those same qualities in a photo postcard detract from their value as folk documentary and historical artifact. Walker Evans traveled to rural areas and took strikingly poignant photos of people and places he encountered. If he took the picture of the African American child we would expect the condition of the print to be clean and flawless. He was a professional photographer with ties to the art photography world. We should not apply those criteria to photograph taken by a local photographer for local use. Doing that distorts its meaning.