Even when I am seriously touring a historical site, contemplating the events that took place "on this very spot," the blood shed, the lives lived, the babies born, the books written, even when I am imagining life at that particular time, searching for sympathy with a foreign world and analyzing the interpretation of the history, I am, the entire time, shamefully anticipating the gift shop at the end of the tour. The placement of the gift shop, conveniently between the end of the tour path and the exit of the museum, the types of books, the items related to the museum, the prettypretty jewelry, the art, the kitchen ware, the textiles, the toys: all of the worthless crap sold to make cash catch me in their tractor beam and draw me in with a force more powerful than the history itself.*I adore gathering souvenirs from my various wanderings; but I don't particularly tend to accumulate kitsch. I have rules for my souvenir gathering that tend to preclude the excessively tacky. First of all, in keeping with the translation of "souvenir," "to remember," the item must have some relationship to the site. Second, the item must fit in my hands. Third, since the item will probably end up somewhere in my home decor, it should be pretty. Kitsch, by definition, tends to be excluded by that last requirement.
Nevertheless, I do have a freakish fascination with historically-themed kitsch. You have to admire the creativity that goes into beanie baby Harriet Tubmans. Who thinks up bobble-head George Washingtons? How tacky can they get with Abraham Lincolns on a stick? What are their limits if they create inaccurate action figures of the Underground Railroad? When did this lack of decorum in regard to these subjects all begin? Do their creators have not taste? Or are they being intentionally irreverent? These questions are in complete earnest! Yet, despite my fascination, I cannot bring myself to actually purchase any of these items.
Actually, I just lied. I am the biggest sucker for the flattened penny machines. Really, they are the perfect souvenir. Fifty-one cents gets you a little memento to trigger your memory about the happy vacation, and it doesn't take up shelf or luggage space. Still, a penny flattened out with a dolphin and "Miami Seaquarium" imprinted onto one side isn't exactly "pretty;" but it is small and it is a little reminder.**Despite my need to flatten pennies into souvenirs, I do not buy the truly tasteless crap that so interests me; so instead, I have decided to collect these souvenirs in another way. I am going to start my own Online Museum of Historical Kitsch beginning with installments right here on Clio Bluestocking Tales. All I need are pictures and information about the items, not the actual items themselves.
To this end, I am also soliciting donations, which will cost the donors nothing in that they can just snap a picture in a gift shop (or from their personal collection), then send it along with any pertinent information such as the place where the donor found this lovely bit of worthless crap, what or who it depicts (sometimes that is not always so obvious), the manufacturer (if possible) and a brief statement as to why the donor finds this item so objectionable (although sometimes the item speaks for itself). Since credit earned is credit due, I'll even link to your blog or website (or keep you entirely anonymous if you prefer).
You know that you've seen something that made you pause and stare in horror and awe. You know that you wanted others to see it themselves because they would never believe you description. This is your chance to share the disgust. Become a Friend of the OMHK!
To this end, I am also soliciting donations, which will cost the donors nothing in that they can just snap a picture in a gift shop (or from their personal collection), then send it along with any pertinent information such as the place where the donor found this lovely bit of worthless crap, what or who it depicts (sometimes that is not always so obvious), the manufacturer (if possible) and a brief statement as to why the donor finds this item so objectionable (although sometimes the item speaks for itself). Since credit earned is credit due, I'll even link to your blog or website (or keep you entirely anonymous if you prefer).
You know that you've seen something that made you pause and stare in horror and awe. You know that you wanted others to see it themselves because they would never believe you description. This is your chance to share the disgust. Become a Friend of the OMHK!
* I am still completely convinced that the Rock-n-roll Hall of Fame exists simply as the world's most interactive advertising tool for the record story at its exit; but that is another story for another time.
** Yes, the Miami Seaquarium isn't exactly "history-related," but it was the flattened penny that I had on hand, I have them from various locations in San Francisco, New England, Galveston, and various other places, but they are all still packed because I have yet to completely unpack from my last move.
IMAGE 1: Beanie Baby Abraham Lincoln, now residing in my boss's office, purchased at the Lincoln Museum in Springfield, Illinois, by one of his students. Yes, Lincoln is holding Beanie Baby Law books.
IMAGE 2: Flattened Miami Seaquarium penny, obtained by Clio Bluestocking, Dec. 2006, while visiting Nephew the Elder.
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5 comments:
The best kitsch souvenir I've ever seen was an Albanian ashtray made in the form of a gun bunker. I wish I had a picture of it. There's something like 3/4 of a million of these concrete bunkers left over from the paranoid Enver Hoxha regime, cluttering up the landscape. I've always regretted not buying one for myself (I didn't have any room in my luggage and had to make a difficult trip overland).
Wade
That's hilarious!
Great post! I'm not sure if Wall Drug in South Dakota counts as a historical site or not, but it sure has the kitsch-thing down. I still shudder to think of the crap lining the shelves there. Although now I'm feeling an urgent need to go back and take pictures of it all!
I missed the family trip to the Rock 'n Roll Hall of Fame (cue: "Ode to the Thing that Keeps the Wolf from the Door"); but the boys loved it. They were pre-high school, and they came back with a great appreciation for the 2,000 vinyl hunks of rock music in the living room and our keeping an ancient "phonograph" to play them on. Nice designs on the mugs and t-shirts. A museum that kept the kids interested and made them smile, and still does, years later.
Is it commercial? Who cares?
Wall Drug: Driving west with a friend, out of Minneapolis, we pledged not to fall victim to Wall Drug. We had seen signs for at least 300 miles before Minneapolis. As it happened, we got to Wall needing gas, and needing food. We got a buffalo burger at a local drive in, gassed up, and started to get back on the freeway, content that we had avoided the kitsch. But to get back on the freeway from where we were, avoiding Wall Drug, we had to drive the back roads of the town. At last we found the freeway entrance, and there was the sign: "Wait! Go Back! You missed WALL DRUG STORE! Free ice water."
What else could we do? We turned around and beelined to the drugstore.
It was closed. Our eating and fueling had taken a while. It was 10:00 p.m. We laughed about that all the way back to Salt Lake City. "I sure could use a tall glass of ice cold water right now, pardner; how about you?"
Don't get me going on Lusk, Wyoming. Same trip.
Oh, and kitsch souvenirs? I used to collect shot glasses from Utah that had the Mormon Temple pictured on them. Most of the time the glasses were sold as toothpick holders. But they are shot glasses. Kitsch and wonderfully inapt at the same time.
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