Boring Postcards, collected and edited by Magnum photographer Martin Parr, composed 160 of the dullest British postcards from the fifties, sixties and seventies, touched a national nerve at the same time as it confirmed many foreigners' preconceptions of the British. As the Sunday Times critic discussed at the time: individually they were a kitsch hoot, but collectively they referred to the spirit and soul of a Britain vanished for ever.
For this collection Martin Parr has turned his eye to the USA. The format remains exactly the same: the only text included being the names of the various different postcard publishers whose products are included. The images, again 160 of them, are left to speak for themselves and strict criteria have been applied to the definition of "boring". Either its composition, content, or the characters featured must be arguably boring or it must be devoid of any subject matter which might conventionally be described as interesting.
Rather than comparing Boring Postcards USA to its only slightly older English cousin however, it is perhaps more appropriate to regard it within the established photographic genre which attempts to define and deal with notions of Americanness. To name but a few this long established genre includes the work of: Alexander Gardner, Lewis Hine, Edward Weston, Ansel Adams, Walker Evans, Robert Adams, Lewis Baltz, Robert Frank and, perhaps more relevant to Parr's oeuvre, Bill Owens. Looked at in this light, as Martin Parr is certainly aware, Boring Postcards USA has some way to climb; but for all that there is an appropriateness in using images made for mass consumption as a window on the ultimate consumer society. Certainly the humour shines through: taconite for anyone curious turns out to be a type of hard rock used as iron ore and the book, perhaps in spite of itself, seems bigger than itself. "Moving on", "My Four Wheels" and the notion of "Mom and Apple Pie" all feature. On a personal note I lament the exclusion of the famous Airstream caravan but echoes of previous work do indeed sneak through. Could for example the large veneered television on which Ronald Regan appears in Bill Owens' Suburbia have in fact been a Spartan Way Imperial? Did Matthew Brady make pictures near to what would later become the Gettysburg Interchange? And most crucial of all is the American sense of humour, sometimes self conscious and reportedly devoid of irony, ready for the attentions of Martin Parr? Let's hope so, for like last year's this is a really rather special little book. I await with bated breath the advent of Boring Postcards Belgium.
Simon James