Shell Games: Creative projects extend that summer feeling

September 2023

SMACK DAB IN THE MIDDLE

Shell Games: Creative projects extend that summer feeling

by Donald-Brian Johnson

Admit it: those lazy, hazy, crazy days of summer are OVER. Autumn’s here. Time to rinse out the swimsuits, deflate the floaties, and figure out what to do with that beach bag bulging with souvenir sea shells. Hmmm…
Well, you could always make something.

No kidding. Items made entirely of shells, covered with shells, or just dotted with the occasional accent shell, have been tops as summery souvenirs since at least the 1700s. In 1703, a London woman offered her services as an instructor in the delicate art of “shell work in flowers, sconces, and rocks.” Mary Granville Delany, another turn-of-the-18th-century Londoner, was renowned for her challenging shell projects. Among them: a chapel ceiling, with shells woven into a pattern resembling flower garlands. The fascination with shell craft as a refined art form continued well into the Victorian era. The 1876 guide “Ladies’ Fancy Work” offered detailed instructions (plus glue recipes) for using shells to form “exquisitely beautiful articles of adornment for parlor or dressing table.” As one British publication of the time put it, shells were “so brightly clean, so ornamental to a boudoir” that shell craft was a pursuit “peculiarly suited to the ladies.”

Tell that to the Marines. During the 1800s, many seafaring men brought “sailor’s valentines” to the girls back home. These octagonal wooden boxes had covers decorated with elaborate shell designs. Appropriate sentiments (e.g., “To My Sweetheart”), were picked out in shells of a contrasting color. Romantic legend has it that, in their downtime, these water-weary voyagers not only carved the boxes, but also came up with their intricate shell-patterned lids. Just another way of whiling away the hours between monsoons.

A more likely (if less sigh-inducing) theory is that even the Ancient Mariner, after spending months at sea, knew better than to return to his sweetheart empty-handed. Last-minute peace offerings were called for, and the Caribbean craftsmen of Barbados were happy to oblige. The labels found on many “sailor’s valentines” list their actual source as “Native Manufacturers in Fancy Work.”

By the mid-20th century, sailors were no longer crafting (or at any rate purchasing) their valentines, and other forms of shell art had become a bit less refined. Now, any gift shop claiming even the slightest proximity to water wasn’t complete without a shellcraft selection. Vacationers loved shell souvenirs. They were fun to look at, and cleverly made. They were inexpensive, so no need to shell out a bundle. And best of all, travelers could take them home and display them on the mantel. It was an unobtrusive way of telling the neighbors, “Guess where WE went this summer?”

Learning the ABCs, graphite, and watercolour

A shell-decorated box

In the style of a sailor’s valentine: a shell box from the South Pacific, dating from World War II, in a jaunty shade of ocean blue. 3-12” w. x 5-1/2” l. Shell art courtesy of Maureen Maher and Jan Andreasen. (Image courtesy of the author and Hank Kuhlmann)

 

 

Learning the ABCs, graphite, and watercolour

A shell-decorated clock

What time is high tide? Shell-decorated clock, with companion starfish. 9” d. Shell art courtesy of Maureen Maher and Jan Andreasen. (Image courtesy of the author and Hank Kuhlmann)

 

And what a variety to choose from! There were shell-covered boxes (a nod to the “sailor’s valentines”) shell paperweights, shell trinket holders, perfume bottles, mini-Christmas trees, and picture frames. How about shell coasters? Wreaths? Crosses and clocks? Soap dispensers and hanging planters? Luck onto the right shop, and you just might head home with a shell lamp, a shell sailing ship, even a litter of shell cats, or a combo of shell musicians. Pick more than two, and you could consider yourself a full-fledged conchylomaniac (in layman’s terms, an insatiable shell collector).

Fortunately, the mania to collect shell art is a relatively inexpensive one. Most examples can be found today for under $25, which will leave few buyers shell-shocked. That’s a far cry from the value placed on shells in centuries past. In the 1600s, one Dutch collector amassed more than 2,000 of them, which he kept locked in a treasure chest. To open the shell chest required three separate keys, each entrusted to a different person. Roemer Visscher, a Dutch contemporary, wrote that shells from distant lands had suddenly become as valuable as jewels. “It is bizarre,” said Visscher, “what a madman spends his money on.”
Gee. And those shells hadn’t even been turned into lamps.

 

 

 

Donald-Brian Johnson is the co-author of numerous Schiffer books on design and collectibles, including “Postwar Pop,” a collection of his columns. Please address inquiries to: donaldbrian@msn.com

Chalk Talk: Collecting Carnival Chalkware

August 2023

SMACK DAB IN THE MIDDLE

Chalk Talk: Collecting Carnival Chalkware

by Donald-Brian Johnson

“Hey there, fella! Step right up and take yer chance! Knock down the milk bottles, and win a kewpie for your girlie! All it takes is one thin dime!”

Lines like that have been circulating around carnivals for years… and over those years, lots of fellas have been falling for it. Usually, it took plenty more than “one thin dime” to knock over those bottles, but eventually, down they went. The determined, now dimeless, player (or more likely, his “girlie”), proceeded merrily down the midway, the proud possessor of a chalk-ware “kewpie doll.”

While oversized stuffed animals rule the fairground roost today, it wasn’t always so. During the heyday of traveling carnivals, from the Depression years of the 1930s well into the 1950s, chalkware figurines were the sought-after prizes in games of chance. Originally called “kewpie dolls,” after the Rose O’Neil impish bald-headed cherubs which populated their ranks, chalkware characters actually came in many guises. There were quaint animals, from piggy bank pigs to pipe-smoking chimps … jolly clowns and seductive “sweater girls”… patriotic portrayals of George Washington and Native Americans… plus pop-culture favorites, ranging from the Lone Ranger to the Easter Bunny.

Carnival-goers loved chalkware figurines because they were colorful and fun. Carnival operators loved them because they were inexpensive: a 1940 catalog, from novelty supplier Gellman Bros. of Minneapolis, listed a ‘Popeye” chalk lookalike for 13 cents (or just a few pennies over that “one thin dime”).

Before wending its way to the midway, chalkware had occupied a loftier spot. Dur-ing the 1800s and early 1900s, there were those who admired Staffordshire por-celain figurines, but were unable to afford them. Staffordshire-like chalk reproductions of elegant couples and docile animals proved an acceptable substitute. And, since chalk-ware was essentially molded plaster of Paris, cold-painted in watercolors or oils, the results fit almost every budget (Today, those early figurines, attributed to the Pennsylvania Dutch, are as sought-after as their porcelain predecessors).

 

Learning the ABCs, graphite, and watercolour

Chalkware Kewpie Doll

You can call her “Kewpie,” but according to the Gellman Bros. catalog she’s the “Snookie Doll.” (Image courtesy of the author and Hank Kuhlmann)

 

 

Learning the ABCs, graphite, and watercolour

Chalkware Figurines

Parade rest: a lineup of chalkware figurines in patriotic attire. (Image courtesy of the author and Hank Kuhlmann)

 

Carnival chalkware occupied a less heady pla-teau. Representations of familiar personages, ani-mals, and things (like autos or sailing ships), were what the customer wanted, pre-ferably when those familiar faces were decked out in bright, eye-catching colors, with the occasional splash of glitter. Potential prize-winners were agog: “Look – there’s Rin Tin Tin! And Pinocchio! And over there are Charlie McCarthy and Snow White!” Licensing big names was never a problem for novelty suppliers. The figures may have looked exactly like their name-sakes, but company catalogs would have you believe differently. According to Gellman Bros., Rinty was “Rex the Police Dog,” Pinocchio was the “Comical Puppet,” Charlie McCarthy was “Talkie Dan,” and Snow White was “Miss Wonderland.” Even the Kewpie cherub was reborn as the “Snookie Doll.” Regardless of the name, customers knew what they were winning, and proprietors knew that they knew; the lack of licensing fees kept prices affordable.

Chalkware figurines came in a variety of sizes: “small” (5-8”); “medium” (8-10”); and “large” (11-18”). (The better the game player, the bigger the prize!). Some, like Charlie McCarthy, were produced in assorted sizes and colors. Prices for most figures remain remarkably low, starting at around $10 for those in not-so-nifty condition, up into the low hundreds for rarer figures. Also available, besides piggy banks: chalkware string dispensers, bookends, lamps, wall plaques, “nodders,” and even Christ-mas decorations.

A chalkware drawback is its fragility. Since it’s plaster, it chips. Since it’s cold-painted without glaz-ing, it fades. Chalkware can’t be washed, unless you want to remove even more color. So, collectors in search of mint chalkware figurines may need to resign themselves to a few (or, in the case of a hard-to-find piece, more than a few), imperfections.

But for chalkware connoisseurs, love is blind. Stocking your shelves with chalkware figures, even if in less-than-ideal condition, can summon up happy memories of bygone days. Best of all, you don’t have to knock over any milk bottles to get them.

 

Learning the ABCs, graphite, and watercolour

Chalkware Horse

Glitter accents on mane and tail add to the appeal of this chalkware horse. (Image courtesy of the author and Hank Kuhlmann)

 

 

Donald-Brian Johnson is the co-author of numerous Schiffer books on design and collectibles, including “Postwar Pop,” a collection of his columns. Please address inquiries to: donaldbrian@msn.com