I've very few postcards on show at home. The vast majority are filed away in albums and shoeboxes. Deliberately, they lie out of the reach of sunlight, and beyond the chance of accidents.
There is the odd exception, however.
I keep this card - sent in 1908 from the French port of La Rochelle - in a clear perspex block on the top shelf of a bookcase.
Like many postcard collectors, I’ve a soft spot for cards published by Léon & Lévy (or "LL"). Their format is reliably appealing: a standard framing of image and title, a shadowy photograph, and the familiar LL font.
But here, what makes the postcard is how the sender has enhanced the publisher’s efforts.
During the Golden Age of postcards before World War One, it was forbidden in Britain to put a stamp on the front of a card. In France, it was common practice.
Above, the stamp completes the picture. On its side, an inch above the horizon, it takes the place of the sun.
At the end of the exhibition, cards will be sold off for £45 each. Post purchase buyers find out who made their cards.
Photo of the RCA Secret from 2011
Of late, I've been reading Jeremy Cooper's Artists' Postcards, an excellent compendium of how the postcard has been used by different artists since 1900. It's quite a book. And I bet more than a few RCA artists refer to it as they create their cards for 2013.
At a pace, Cooper takes you through the canon(?) of postcard art: René Magritte's postcard magazines, Gilbert & George's Post Card Sculptures, Paul Morton's Thatcher Therapy (a dot-to-dot postcard suggesting you draw a pencil mesh over a photo of the ex-PM), Joseph Beuys' wooden postcards, Rachel Whiteread's hole-punched cards...
Two cards stood out, though. It's always the personal connections ultimately, isn't it?
The first, a 1908 Donald McGill postcard titled "In the Asylum". The image shows a red-nosed man, grinning from behind the bars of a cell door.
Above him is a sign:
CAUSE: Picture-postcard collecting
CONDITION: Up the pole
REMARKS: Thinks he's a Gibson Girl
How cruel Donald!? How cruel.
The second card was made by Belgian artist Francis Alÿs. I first came across Alÿs when a friend showed me this film of him painting a line in the middle of a road in Panama. I love it.
The card caught my eye, not just because it was made by Alÿs but because of the contrast with a Rough Sea postcard I bought recently.
The Rough Sea series was one of the most popular in Edwardian Britain. Published by Tuck's, some say it tapped into Britain's island psyche, others that the cards have a deep erotic charge.
While I really like Rough Sea cards, I resist collecting them. One thing I have learnt is that to avoid ending up in McGill's collecting asylum you have to set some limits.
Rather than buying it for the image, I bought it to add to my collection of old postcard messages. Specifically, I bought it to add to a new category of cards I've noticed: empty postcards, postcards without written messages.
Increasingly, I'm coming to think of them as secret postcards.
RCA Secret opens on Thursday 14 March at the Dyson Building in Battersea, London. The sale takes place on Saturday 23 March. If you're going, good luck!
