How Coins become Marvelous (Part 3)

Marvelous coins have four attributes. I explored the first attribute in a previous post. It is time now to explore the second attribute.
     Marvelous coins demand special care. Once a coin has been chosen to be collected, it takes on a new role. No longer money, it becomes a singular object that plays a specific role in the collection. Consequently, the coin is treated differently than when it was simply pocket change. The second attribute is Special Care Needed.

This marvelous NJ copper was once in a slab. Yet, before
that, it was exposed to the environment for a long time,
accumulating deep cuprite deposits with perhaps a bit of
tenorite where the color goes black-- in short, the piece was
going back to nature. All of this: from the horse and plow
design, to its history of use, to the "rust" that accumulated
is part of its history. It has a complicated story, and stories
is what coin necromancy is all about. Marvelous!

     As collectors we are accustomed to all sorts of holders. One of the first things we do after acquiring a coin for the collection is to place it in a special envelope, 2x2 flip, plastic holder, or slab -- whatever the collector desires. But from this point onward, the coin is treated with special care.
     The transition from old money to marvelous object is made clear in how we change our behavior once a coin is chosen to be included in a collection. Consider this ruddy horse and plow New Jersey copper. It was probably on the ground or behind a hutch for a long while, perhaps falling onto, or between, the floorboards of an old storehouse in the 1780s. There it sat with its surfaces accumulating corrosion products as the copper spewed off electrons, oxidizing to the wonderful mosaic you see here. After acquiring this unlikely survivor from the days of George Washington, the collector is likely to go into extreme protection mode: cotton insert, 2x2 non-sulfuric envelope and so on in order to protect this coin -- a coin that has already endured years in the harsh environment.
     We know the rituals well: safe storage, holding the coin on its edges, gently brushing with a camel hair brush (why not horse hair?). This rather obsessive-compulsive manner of behaving is the collector's way. This is how we behave when the object is Marvelous.

No Two Alike

One of the definitions of collecting (versus accumulating, or worse, hoarding) is the rule: No Two Alike.
     Each coin in a collection plays a specific role. Consequently, the collector strives to find the best player. Once the best is found, no duplicates are needed, as they do not add to the collection. A duplicate is just that: a coin without a role of its own -- except to trade for a coin that is needed for the collection.

This cent shows a thick green patina, probably malachite
bronchantite, exfoliating to reveal cuprite and maybe
a bit of bornite just under the chin. Gotta love it!

     We have seen that marvelous coins are singular. They have been elevated from their utility value to the outer-worldly category of collected objects. A duplicate, however, has utility: it can be traded for another coin or be held as an investment to sell later at a higher price. Hence, a duplicate is useful, not singular. No matter what you say, it is not. Duplicates are the stuff of accumulators and hoarders.
     One way to increase the breadth of a collection is to assign new roles to coins so that they do play a unique role. In this regard, we have mint marks that differentiate cents of the same date. We also have die varieties and die states. All of these categorizations make each coin unique, allowing us to follow the rule: No Two Alike.
     It is important to understand this rule in order to appreciate how coins become marvelous, and more specifically, how they become singular in the act of collecting them.
     Of course, it depends on how we define "alike." If you collect relic-coins, then the pattern of corrosion itself is the differentiating factor. Such coins, although shunned by many numismatists (undeservedly so), are unique in the way that they corrode. Even then, it depends on how the collection is organized. And so, consider the marvelous coin pictured here: an Indian cent in full bloom. It was in the ground for years. This one is steeped in history: it circulated, was lost, was probably searched for, and eventually found with a metal detector with much delight, and now you are viewing it.
     It is marvelous, and certainly singular.
   

How Coins become Marvelous (Part 2)

Coins become marvelous the moment they are collected.
     Beforehand, they were used. They were money. But once the decision is made by a collector (any collector, not just a leading authority in numismatics), the coin becomes special -- it become symbolic, as it plays a specific role in a collection. And, we all know that collecting is a personal endeavor, steeped in the aspirations and hopes of the collector. In short, the  collected coin is possessed, not used.
     There are several attributes to marvelous coins. In this post, I will explore the first attribute. These attributes (all four of them) are attached to a specific coin once it is placed in the collection. After all, the decision to add a coin to a collection is not a random decision: a certain amount of contemplation (on the part of the collector) comes first.
     The first attribute: The coin is Singular. This means that is has been judged to have some superlative quality that makes the coin desirable beyond its utility-value as money. Beauty, rarity, or survivorship are typical qualities that contribute to its unique status. Once collected, a coin is revered for its unique role in the collection.

This CC dollar is singular. Of course the mint mark is on
the reverse, but sharp-eyed collectors can tell this one from
the obverse. Hint: check-out the second 8.

     It is easy to consider that a silver dollar from the Carson City mint is special. It is more than just bullion, and it is certainly more than a dollar. It is a survivor of the Wild West. In this regard, it conjures up images of late-night poker games in the saloon where heaps of cartwheels are contested by Kings, Queens, and Jacks. Or, perhaps you prefer to imagine a strongbox of CC dollars rattling on the top of a stagecoach making its way north to the Dakotas -- with bandits in hot pursuit (you gotta have bandits!).
     Either way, the Carson City dollar is a touchstone for history. It is a survivor from a past that we only know through fantasy. Such a coin is obviously singular, as it plays a unique role in the collector's pursuit of history. Sure, there are many other CC dollars out there, but each plays a supporting role in the context of a particular collection.
     As you can surmise, any coin -- even a lowly cent darkened by soot and corrosion -- can be singular in the context of a specific collection. Singularity is defined by the collector. It is not defined by a numismatic guidebook, mintage figures, condition grading, and so on. This is also true for other objects. A die-cast toy car, a wooden clothespin, an unusually shaped river stone -- all of these objects become singular in the collector's hand.
     Singularity is the first attribute of The Marvelous Object. I will explore the other attributes in future postings.

Sweet Corrosion on a Lowly Cent

Grounders have a certain charm all their own. Yet, they are generally shunned by most coin collectors.
     We all know the credo of numismatic correctness: Buy the best you can afford -- and its corollary: Avoid corrosion like the plague. But the plague -- in this case, the corrosion and its salty products -- is where it is happening.

An awful beauty that is captivating. Flying Eagle cents
were 88% copper but they were still called "nicks."
They were prone to corrosion, as the copper was reactive,
particularly when the alloy was poorly mixed.

     Even the large cent master, William Sheldon, swooned to the color of his old coppers. In Penny Whimsy, he wrote "... rich shades of green, red, brown, yellow, and even deep ebony; together with blending of these not elsewhere matched in nature save perhaps in autumn leaves." He liked patina. Yet, I doubt that he was talking about cuprite and bronchantite deposits!
     These deposits are lovely -- and they add texture. They reflect a color palette that only mother nature could provide.
     Such colors strike us in the gut. They evoke an emotional response -- like a Rorschach card with red splatter: Blood! Our limbic system is triggered. We are excited. Yes, this flying eagle cent hits us deeply in the primitive part of our brain. You cannot turn away until you examine the patterns of corrosion: how the layered minerals hug the tail-feathers and collects between the lettering. Our fingertips are drawn to coins like this.
     Some collectors have learned to suppress all this nervous chatter. They suck-in their gut and tighten their facial muscles. They enlist the frontal lobes to remind them of the credo. Repeat after me: Corrosion is bad, bad, bad. 
     Too bad these collectors are missing out on the best relics (while increasing their risk for stomach ulcers) -- not to mention a collecting life full of mediocrity. I submit that this is what history looks like in the hand. Not new and shiny, not smooth, not evenly worn ... those coins have never been lost and looked for.
     Is this a marvelous coin, or what?