I. Pre-
It’s been hard to sort through the stacks of crisis lately. It seems like much has worsened since my last newsletter—a swirl of positive cases marked by graph lines almost-vertical, many forced and unsupported workforces, and eugenicist, ableist violence spewed by public officials. I feel so much anger alongside deep gratitude for my wellness and home. Among it all, I hope you and yours are finding care, rest.
II. Postcard
For me the postcard is a diptych, a couplet: each side speaking to or against the other; text and image. There’s a felt intimacy to their inscriptions—it’s the writing on the back of a painting, singular handwriting against the mass produced. I send them, I hoard them, I frame them, and I’ve been thinking about them a lot lately.
Between 1968 and 1979, artist On Kawara sent postcards to his friends with the time he got up (not woke up). I remember seeing them at the Guggenheim in 2015 among the artist’s other “over and over” projects in the Wright spiral. Around each turn of the ramp, one saw Kawara’s many listings and, importantly, datings—newspapers, people he met, places he went. The postcards are part of this constellation of projects that created an intimate portrait of the artist’s life, relationships, and locations. I love that he sent cards Lippard and to Baldessari, and that he sent one from an address on Eastern Parkway in my Brooklyn neighborhood. After 11 years of sending them, the stamp kit he was using was stolen and he stopped.
[ID: The front and back of four postcards by On Kawara from September 1976, each stamped with the words “I GOT UP AT” and sent to Ellie Siegel, 318 E. 90th St., New York, NY 10028.]
[ID: The front and back of three postcards by On Kawara from 1968, 1974, and 1977 addressed to Jurgen Wesseler, Kasper König, and John Baldessari, sent from the Rena House Hotel in London, the Hotel Majestic in Ecuador, and the Quality Inn in Richmond, Virginia.]
More recently, Zoe Leonard’s You see I am here after all, questions what becomes visible in a repeating image. Over the course of two and a half years, Leonard showed thousands of vintage postcards of Niagara Falls dating from the 1900’s to 50’s at Dia Beacon. (I later saw the series as part of her Whitney survey Survey.) The water falls and splashes over the cliff over and over as the title pokes at the slippery sense of being and visiting enveloped in the postcards. In a way, they capture a history of photography and the ongoing urge to journey to this natural phenomenon—to see it, (to feel the water, even) and then have something to bring back to show.
Zoe Leonard, You see I am here after all, 2008. © Zoe Leonard. Photo: Bill Jacobson Studio, New York. Dia Beacon.
[ID: Two installation photos showing a grid of postcards of Niagara Falls with slightly varying hues, clouds, and croppings.]
Both projects utilize mass produced postcards mostly meant for tourists. I recently came across this Vox video featuring James Brouwer, a collector who noticed the exact same sky in postcards from destinations around the country. Upon further investigation, they were all made by Dexter Press, which offered clients the option to replace a less-than-ideal backdrops with their own stock clouds. This practice reinforces the artificiality and constructedness of these commercial images, yes—but there’s something lovely about these disparate places being silently connected, of these Motels and landmarks existing overlapped under the same sky.
[ID: Three postcards of roadside attractions with similar blue skies and cloud formation.]
In 2020, I started 30 Days Hath, a pandemic series of collaged postcards to fundraise for different mutual aid groups. I started it as a way to keep occupied and creative, to support folks and communities raising funds, and to combat some of my hesitations about sharing (and finishing) my visual art practice. Perhaps I’ll bring it back this year.
(Other mail and fundraising projects that I’ve loved seeing this pandemic were Diya Vij and Theodore (ted) Kerr’s MOURN ON THE 4th of JULY and Avery Camp’s December Collection, which I mentioned in a previous letter. )
[ID: I hold a stack of Pantone postcards. Rufus, a pit mix looks up at them, perhaps hoping they are treats. Visible is my tan jacket a few shades lighter than Rufus’s fur, chipped gold nail polish, and a window sill of plants.]
The last few weeks, I’ve been sending friends cards from my Pantone set, delighting in choosing a color for each. I have so many (100!), and would love to send you one if you’d like—just send me your address!
III. Re(Post)
In the last 10 days, I’ve been advocating for the Brooklyn Rail to reconsider their practice of paying their Production Assistants an unconscionable $50 for a full day of work. After many posts and comments from me and others, they remain silent on the issue.
Just generally, support teachers and ask them what they need. Support your disabled friends and ask them what they need. Two recent efforts: Jermaine, founder of Black Disabled Lives Matter needs urgent mutual aid and Skye Tooley is fundraising to provide educators PPE. Support and share if you can!
Finally, here is some recent needed, grounding writing by Alice Wong (High-Risk Pandemic Stories: A Syllabus) and Mia Mingus (You Are Not Entitled To Our Deaths: COVID, Abled Supremacy & Interdependence).
I’ll end how Mia ends her essay: We need each other. We need each other. We need each other.
d