Kreiss Psycho Ceramics were first sprung on an unsuspecting public in the late 1950s. Theyre the three-dimensional equivalent of the eras popular (and usually snarky) studio cards. Kreiss specialized in jokey themes, offered up by what one reviewer called deformed blobs, eccentric hillbillies, and fat, drunken Santas. Although the jokes were barbed, Psychos were successfully marketed as novelty gifts. Hopefully, the recipients had thick skins. One tubby Kreiss gremlin, perched on a bathroom scale, came with the hang tag, Want to lose 10 ugly pounds? Cut off your head! On the tag reverse, the gift-giver had added this message: Eloise - have a good time on your birthday - Earl. Its safe to assume Earl was dropped from Eloises party list. Ceramics importer Murray Kreiss founded his California company in 1939, in association with sons Howard and Norman. World War II stalled the companys progress, but things picked up postwar, with Kreiss focusing solely on Japanese imports. Early products followed familiar themes, such as cuddly animals, pretty girls, and romanticized ethnic interpretations. The objects themselves were also familiar: figurals, salt-and-peppers, ashtrays, and holiday knickknacks. Many of these initial offerings were at the low end of the quality scale. Often indifferently designed, with slapdash detailing and gaudy paint jobs, they were no match for ceramics being turned out domestically, primarily on the West Coast. Then again, Kreiss ceramics were a lot cheaper, benefiting both the customer and the company. And suddenly, everything changed. Following the passing of Murray and Howard, Norman Kreiss came up with the idea for a never-before-seen line, best described as quirky. In 1958, the first Psycho Ceramics waddled their way into stores. Different than absolutely anything else on the giftware market, these ... ah ... unusual figurals won over buyers in search of something off the beaten path. Unlike earlier Kreiss imports, the Psycho line paid close attention to quality and detail. Here, garish colors were a plus, and exaggerated, zany features (bulging eyes, toothy smiles) were right at home. Many of the figures, averaging 5 inches high, were hand-embellished with rhinestones and cold-painted accents. Sometimes adding to the goofy aspect were stringy plastic or rabbit fur hair. Even when cast from the same mold, no two Psychos were exactly the same, since the artists doing the by-hand applications after glazing were given significant leeway. With Psycho figurines capturing the countrys fancy, Kreiss carried through the theme on objects such as ashtrays, mugs, vases, salt-and-peppers, and even bobbleheads. Selling for under a dollar, Psychos gave studio cards a run for their money. Why insult your pals with a card when, for about the same price, you could insult them in 3-D? The success of the Psychos called for the addition of other oddballs to the Kreiss lineup. Among them were the way-down-at-their-heels Elegant Heirs; the cool-as-cucumbers Beatniks and Beatchicks; the perpetually soused Goodtime Charlies; the Flintstones-like Crazy Green-Eyed Monsters; and the self-explanatory Nudies. Most came with a paper or metal tag on a string or chain, although some figurines were mounted on wood bases with an attached plaque. The I.D.s told the recipients precisely what they were in for. A menacing Psycho creature with enormous teeth and devilish eyebrows announced We Welcome Your Suggestions With Enthusiasm, an Elegant Heirs hobo popped out of a garbage pail proclaiming They Warned Me This Is Where I Would End Up, and a buxom blonde bellowed Shes My Mother And I Say She Stays! Psycho Ceramics continued to captivate during the 1960s and 70s; then, decorative tastes moved on. Fortunately, a twisted sense of humor never seems to lose its unique appeal, which means that Psycho Ceramics, in all their crazed glory, continue to attract fans. Theyre offered regularly online, most priced in the $25 to $75 range (Beatniks rule the coolness price chart, averaging $75 to $100). Kreiss Psycho Ceramics. Definitely weird. Definitely wacky. And definitely worth collecting. (But as a birthday gift? Well, maybe not). Kreiss ceramics courtesy of Mark Dickmeyer. Photo Associate: Hank Kuhlmann. All photos by Donald-Brian Johnson. Donald-Brian Johnson is the co-author of numerous books on design and collectibles, including Postwar Pop, a collection of his columns. Please address inquiries to: donaldbrian@msn.com.