I have taken many pictures of people, but I don’t often look at them. I don’t have a wallet full of family photographs. (I do have photos on my iPod, but I often forget they are there.) However, the oldest thing in my wallet does have a picture of my wife on it. It is the permesso di soggiorno issued to her when we lived in Italy.
I am not a supporter of ID cards. However, it has to be said that the Italians have made an art of them.
The first thing to note is that this is not a card although I will continue to refer to it as such). It is a piece of fabric. After nearly 22 years it is not surprising that it is a little frayed at the edges, but I am confident that it would last a lifetime if necessary. In fact, its design life does not need to be any more than five years — as indicated by the rubric alongside the picture:
La presente tessera, valida per la durata della missione o comunque non oltre cinque anni, costituisce documento di identificazione a tutti gli effeti di legge…
The other noticeable thing (especially at this distance in time) is how simple the technology is. The basic information is printed on the card, and the details identifying the bearer are typed on, with space for signatures in pen. The photograph itself is riveted to the card, as well as being embossed with an official seal.
The overall effect is of something ephemeral, yet built to last. I am not sure how secure it is. How easy would it be to forge a cloth-card as opposed to a paper one? Could the typing and handwriting be removed and replaced with fraudulent alternatives? I don’t even know if this kind of card was unusual. It is labelled as being a “Cerimoniale carta d’identità — organizzazione internazionale o missioni estere speciali” so it is possible that ordinary ID cards were produced in a different form. Whatever the case, I think some care went into the creation of this as an artefact — not just as a means of identification.
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