Tag Archives: postcards

At Your Bidding: eBay as An Archival Resource

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Two layers of cards fanned out, featuring illustrations of costumes from different eras

Sally Jones MA History of Design and Material Culture student reflects on her use of eBay as a resource when access to things were curbed during lockdown.

At the start of my MA last autumn, museums were still partially open, albeit for limited, pre-booked visits, but enough to satisfy my love of being near old things, to soak up their aura and experience the joys of historical artefacts ‘in person.’  I could also use them to complement my studies, visiting Worthing Museum to look at mourning jewellery for my first assignment.  Semester two was a different situation altogether.  We were in the heart of lockdown three and everything had shut.  As a student of material culture this was a challenge.  My MA centres around stuff, and for me, my real passion is old stuff.  So how to bring my studies to life when I could no longer access museums, historic sites and archives?  Life had moved online so I turned to eBay, the virtual equivalent of foraging around a flea market, and what I discovered was that, used wisely, it could be a productive source of primary material.

Selection of gas fire themed playing cards purchased from eBay, author’s own collection. Digital scan by author

eBay first came up trumps in supporting a presentation I put together based on a 1937 gas fire catalogue, which is held in the University Library St Peters’ House Special Collection.  Basic searches revealed a wealth of ephemeral material and led to some fascinating discoveries, my personal favourite being a ubiquitous supply of playing cards advertising gas fires.  Cheap, accessible and in widespread use at the time, playing cards were an ideal medium through which to market domestic technology, although I was unaware of this until I stumbled across them listed for sale.  I compared the illustrations to gain a greater understanding of how the technology was mediated.  I also looked at the depiction of women, who were prominent in many of the designs, to consider how their role and position within the home was represented and shaped by gas fire advertisements.

Selection of Edwardian postcards purchased from eBay, author’s own collection. Digital scan by author.

eBay continued to be a rich hunting ground for my next assignment, which focused on the use of ridicule in anti-suffrage Edwardian postcards.  This time, I purchased a small collection of postcards, printed and posted in 1911.  Most online archives of suffrage postcards favour the printed image on the front and neglect the information on the back, but it is the reverse side which bears evidence of contemporary consumption practices.  I was able to draw on this from my own case study sample.  I could also see how the material attributes of the postcard contributed to its effectiveness as a propaganda device.  One of the great advantages of eBay was that the listings photographed both the front and the back of the postcards – you can even hover over the images to pick up finer detail and read the handwritten messages – an option which wasn’t available through online archive records.

Of course, eBay isn’t an archive and researchers should exercise caution, remaining aware of issues around provenance, and titles and descriptions which are designed to sell the item and enhance its appeal, rather than maintain historical accuracy.  On the other hand, many sellers are collectors themselves with a knowledge and enthusiasm for their particular specialism.  eBay certainly introduced me to artefacts I would not otherwise have been aware of, and it opened up new areas of research, providing inspiration at a time when access to collections was severely limited.  The random, ephemeral nature of objects listed on the site makes for a serendipitous approach which I particularly enjoyed.  There’s also something about the tangible experience of handling objects that can really enrich a research study and whilst I am very much looking forward to getting back into a museum, eBay proved to be a valuable resource, offering direct access to historic material culture at the click of a mouse.

“Folkestone in a Crab”: A Photographic Souvenir

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PhD student Jayne Knight reflects on a curious find on a trip to a seaside town.

Folkestone in a Crab, unfolded. Photograph by Jayne Knight.

I first spotted Folkestone in a Crab in the shop window of Rennies Seaside Modern, in the Kentish town of Folkestone. At first glance it was hard to determine what it was; the crab shaped object lay flat and its interior was hidden, presented in the window display alongside other curious collectables for sale. What exactly was Folkestone in a Crab?

Opening the crab and pulling on its tab, a series of folded photographic images were revealed. Small enough at 13 x 8cm to be posted in an envelope or kept as a small memento of a trip to Folkestone, the fold-out photo souvenir would have been purchased at desirable Victorian and Edwardian seaside locations, sold alongside more standardised picture postcards during their ‘golden age’.

The crab was made by Edward Thomas West Dennis (E.T.W.D., Ltd), a well-known postcard printer and publisher based in Scarborough, and later London. Dennis sold his first picture postcard in 1894, becoming the first to privately publish postcards, a commercial venture made possible by changes in Post Office regulations. At the printworks in Scarborough, Dennis who founded his stationery and printing business in 1870, began printing postcards, both illustrated and photographic, capturing the landmarks and popular views of seaside destinations. Dennis expanded his family business to publish view-books and novelty items and later exported postcards internationally. The company closed in 2000 after 130 years of business.

The crab design was registered by E.T.W.D in 1908, and used as a template for different seaside towns. A second example, Margate in a Crab, identical in format, presented photographic images of another Kent harbour town, both were historically popular with tourists and those seeking the advertised health benefits of seawater bathing. The crab was a design suitable for harbour towns with strong fishing identities, representing one of the town’s main industries and a popular pastime of tourists.

Folkestone in a Crab, close-up of contents. Photograph by Jayne Knight.

Folkestone’s popularity soared with the Victorians and Edwardians, the grand Victoria Pier, harbour, Leas Lift and the elegant Leas promenade walk that offered views of France on a clear day, were all recognised landmarks of the town. These sights provided postcard publishers with desirable images to be used on their products, ideal for customers wishing to keep such images as souvenirs or to post in an envelope, sharing what Folkestone had to offer as a leisure destination. Many of the landmarks remain unchanged today, with the exception of the pier, having been defined by turn of the century popularity and cultural significance, contributed to by the sharing of popular imagery through postcards and novelty objects such as the crab.

The twelve black and white photographic images folded inside the crab use the more unusual format of the novelty cover to present Folkestone’s landmarks, differing from the more common two-dimensional singular image postcards. The series of images featured were company stock photos, used by postcard publishers to mass produce inexpensive postcards for sale. Unlike postcards, these novelty fold-outs did not have a designated writing space, although blank space was given on the inside cover, instead they relied on the photographs and their presentation as a form of visual communication.

A fascinating object, these mass produced souvenirs are scarcely found in comparison to the number of picture postcards for sale in the realms of online auctions, collectibles shops and flea markets. In part, it can be assumed that they cost more to produce and purchase, resulting in fewer in circulation or because as an object that required physical handling, folding its image component in and out for viewing resulted in wear and tear, and disposal. This example was a gift “from aunty,” as written on the inside cover, its broken paper clasp reattached with tape, perhaps kept in a scrapbook or family collection, a treasured memory of a great day out. Over one-hundred years in age, the crab’s value as an object for exploring photographic souvenir culture is intriguing. This unusually designed photographic souvenir captures Folkestone’s seaside charm and Edwardian culture in one little crab.