The Postcard Challenge

The Stretch of River

Kudos, John B!

I little while back I offered to send people postcards if they gave me their address (still open, if you are interested). The people who have participated so far have done one better, they have sent postcards to me in addition to just giving me their address. The above arrived yesterday from John B. It was his first home made post card ever. It may seem that creating postcards is some dark secret, but I am here to tell you that, no, its actually quite easy, and can be done with materials salvaged from your recycling bin.

Making a Postie

I just glanced over at usps.com and it appears the standard size is 4x6. You just need heavy paper (cereal box cardboard is a favorite among the artsy, but cover stock will do). Some people just take preexisting postcards and draw/paint/collage on top, and that is respectable. I just recycled a bunch of zombie-death postcards I got for free at the Stumptown comic show a few years ago.

more postcards

I can't say who this is going to, it might spoil the fun.



This arrived in my mail box from one of the Swap-botters. Oh how happy this makes me. The writer put a cool quote from John Muir on the back. It had a San Fran postal cancellation, so it makes me think that she must live somewhere in the Mighty Bay Area.

Vindicating American Tree Knowledge

I was recently at a bar with a Russian (the bar was called the Mallard, but that is beside the point) and he was complaining about how "Americans don't know the names of trees." I of course disagreed, but then, driving down the sycamore-lined mean streets of Bear Town, it occurred to me that I wasn't 100% sure those were sycamores. Could he possibly be right? I wondered. We (as a nation) have Arbor Day, fer cryin' out loud, and Johnny Appleseed, Teddy Roosevelt, John Muir, professional tree-sitters and Thoreau. This anonymous (local) woman who just sent this postcard to me, clearly loves trees and John Muir, and maybe she can't name those trees, but she appreciates them. We haven't quite gotten to the point of having a Tree Musuem (perish the thought), but, here in Flip, we have a grove where each blessed tree has a bronze plaque and a number. My mother knew the number of scrub oaks at our old northern Cal property. The Mountain People certainly know their native trees.

He could be right, there could be droves of tree-ignorant Americans out there, but I don't know any.

I only know a narrow sample of Americans, and I haven't quized any foreigners lately about their arboreal knowledge, so please help me out, oh sapient readers, what thinkest thou?

Fun with the Internet

one of five

In order to indulge my need for post at the edge-of-the-world here in Flip Flop, I've signed up for Swap-bot. It is cross between the pen-pal service of yore, and eBay. People sign up to exchange things via the mail. I am going to send five people postcards. Four of my postcards will be going abroad. Supposedly, I'll be getting five postcards.

I'll keep you posted (ha ha) (hey, Eleven, is that a real pun?)

Pushing the Envelope of Good Taste

I was unemployed today. The substitute service didn't call. This is my excuse for the following post(cards).

Queen of Tarts


for the H

A few days ago, I scanned in some of the art file cards and tried my hand at photoshop-prepared collage components. Not only did it take forever, but I wasn't particularly thrilled with the results. I was seduced with having the power, as it were, to create my perfect bits. I forgot that collage is magical just because the ol' ego is out of control, giving the subconscious, um, something to work with (I cringe when I have to resort to bad psycho-babble). The deliberateness required to manipulate photoshop short-circuited my usual grab-and-paste method. I made a bunch of plain postcards of just the images of JA Duck's "Music Making Company in a Brothel" and Aernout Vinckenborch's "Coronation of the Virgin with Music Makers" (in Atwerp's St Paulus Church) I also took my favorite details and created whole page of postage stamps. Unfortunately, I printed those out on glossy photo paper, so they look fake.

From Heaven to Earth with a few Sharpie Lines

The more I looked at this painting, the weirder it became. Between all the little floating heads (attached to ?), the odd expressions and the nearly possessed nature of the draperies, the elements, taken by themselves are surreal. Additionally, Vinckenborch's anatomy is particularly ridiculous, he ought to take a class in human anatomy with me (what happened to Jesus's latissimus dorsi? and that organist's obnoxious biceps!). What is Mary's hand doing on Jesus's knee? I started by adding lips (because of the printer, her's were nearly washed out), then it all went down the slippery slope to perdition from there. With big red lips, the trio no longer looked appropriately family-like, so the men got big hats and vests, the lady got a bustier and the mood became burlesque-ish.

nb I couldn't find anything in the wiki, or google for either Duck or Vinckenborch. Either I misread the information, or this is a gap in the internet.


also for the H

A Vinckenborch-inspired drawing and postage "stamp." I do admire his grasp of foldology. Gone are the days when an artist's ability to render fabric carried his career, although, it may have been a curse, as well.

The Fine Line Between Heaven and Bawd


for the H

This painting seems mis-titled. I don't know what 17th century Dutch brothels were like, either (I am guessing, because the card included neither a date, nor a country, tho' at the time of printing, it was at the "Netherl.Art Institute"). The activities portrayed look like they could easily happen in a modern coffee shop, with live music, books laying around, and board games. The only suggestive thing is the bed in the background (its clearer in the original, I cropped this version). I wonder if this was supposed to be a self-righteous statement about the wages of bad behavior, or a strange, socially-appropriate portrayal of naughtiness, or perhaps it was both.

I am more scandalized by the bad draftsmanship and questionable dogma of the "Coronation" than the genteel bedroom partiers. My non-marianist theology doesn't have room for a Queen of Heaven, but it has plenty of space for music and fun.

And for something Thoroughly Modern and American

for the KB

I found this art card at a local art school and I thought it could be improved with a Fat Camille sticker. This is an example of why I really love art that has narrative in it. What can I say about pompoms and jelly beans? It certainly has no naughty-potential.

Messages from Abroad, more posties

From The H



In the golden past, when the H lived at 327, she displayed a handful of her beautiful collages around the house. They tended to be small, they usually had an bird or a bug, and were always radiant. When she left, they left with her. Now, I am thrilled to have one of my very own. Where shall I put it? This piece is particularly fun because she used one of her own bug-love postcards from APE (I can't say the p-word, because this is not one of those kinds of blogs). The circular diagram appears to be from a dog-breeding reference book.

From Le Poulet



The Poulet and I met at college in the early nineties, which puts him in that immortal-friend category. He is currently working on his PhD. I sent him an old postcard I found (unadorned, so I didn't post it here) of Jesus breaking bread, with a beatific halo. He replied with this lovely image of St Jerome, by Ercole De' Roberti.

Postal Dividends, continuing

From Chief Biscuit



Non-bill mail is always delightful, especially when it has an authentic New Zealandish fern frond taped to it. The kind note on the back includes an invitation to come and visit, a trip that sounds completely delightful. I wonder if Air New Zealand takes credit card? Hey Chief, are you going to be around in August?

From the Inimitable KB



Most thoughtful people, when faced with the need to send a postcard, would simply reach for the nearest prefab one, slap a stamp and a note on it. This clearly is not the Tao of the KB. When it arrived in the mail, I was mystified by the 30 staples she affixed to the perimeter. I thought that the inside of her card held a surprise, so I, perhaps equally compulsively, removed every single one. Halfway through the operation, I realized that she meant it to stay together, but by that time, I had gone so far there was no turning back. It turned out that it was simply a piece of knitting graph paper (I can tell because the squares were actually tiny rectangles, with a ratio of 5 to 7) that she folded into quarters. Either way, I am charmed and delighted by her highlighter drawing (sadly, the scanner is blind to day-glo), and her elegant cursive.

Postal Dividends

The mail contained an unexpected treasure this afternoon.

From the H

Dead Cat

This work does not come out of the proverbial void, it is part of the H's ongoing visual quest. The tag on her blog, "There aren't enough plastic bags to fill it all" provides the first clue.

Plastic Bags

In this disposable culture, plastic bags are a ubiquitous by-product of commerce. They are used once, and then destined for the land-fill. Sadly, many bags don't make it that far and they litter our lives. Many would consider this a tragedy, but not the H. A bag holds (ha ha) promise, it symbolizes "containment" and it also can be used to stow one's bottle-cap collection any other detritus one runs across in one's daily travels, or whatever "it" is.

Beer Bottle


"bottle caps" image copyright Heather Morgan

If one looks for garbage, one won't ever be disappointed. I am not going to say that the artist "finds beauty in that which is overlooked" because that is cliche. The H might find (and this is wild wild guessing on the part of the writer) a world hidden in a bottle cap. Or perhaps she finds getting lost in the hills, valleys and the labyrinthine wrinkles therapeutic. Maybe the rust spots look like a secret map. Nothing is below or beneath her notice. The insignificant can be mined for a surprising commentary.

The Story

H went to art school shortly after high school. She left her smallish town and plunged into heart of Los Angeles. She was there, circa 1993, and the postcard depicts the view from her window. It looks like a crime scene, with the phrase "dead cat" as one of the first things the viewer sees. With her loving attention, this scene of a typical, seedy alley turns into something strangely clinical and macabre.

Mixcoatl

In place of the traditional stamp, the H has placed a small, Sharpie-enhanced, cut-out of Mixcoatl (pronounced mish KO tl). A stamp shows that a fee has been paid, so that the domestic postal service will carry the parcel to the recipient. Stamps are decorative and functional, and they play symbolic homage to the country they are from. According to my internet source, he is the Aztec god of the hunt, and like Prometheus, brought fire to humanity. Los Angeles has deep, historic connections to Mexico, where Mixcoatl hales. His Aztec celebrations included roasted game and human sacrifice.

Pizza Velez

On the right side, H points out a discarded pizza box, with the label "Pizza Velez." "Velez" sounds like it could be a Mexican name. Pizza is classic American food, but if it had to have a nationality associated with it, it would be Italian. Many pizza places have neutral names, like Round Table or Straw Hat, but they often have italianish names, like Luigi's or Tony's. Velez didn't take that route, and H is pointing out the rich cultural recombination that is happening around her.

There will be more postcards to come...

I sure hope so.

Related Links

Rosa's Thoughts On Garbage

more postcards

I defaced a few discarded books for this. I felt guilty, but they would have been thrown away. I am giving them a new audience.

No Books Were Harmed



I found this man's face in an old Cambodian travel book. It was so striking, I did the art school thing and just redrew it with colored pencils. The caption claimed he was the self-proclaimed King of Angkor and he charged the tourists tribute, until the French locked him up in the thirties. The theme is carried on the in the background-- a wallpaper sample called "Indochine."

more correspondance

sent to El Caballero in Bear Town

It is nearly Summer, and all of a sudden I have some free time! Does anyone else want to exchange postcards with me? You don't have to be artsy. You can just get any ol' postcard and glue something on it. Insta-collage! I recommend using PVA (a kind of book-maker's glue that is waterproof and not smelly, relatively cheap) or acrylic medium. Or stickers! But even elmer's white glue will work, though I don't recommend glue sticks, since they won't hold hard for the postal processing. My email is on my profile and you can write me with your address. I just need a good excuse!

(I got some French postcards and they spelled it "correspondance" It looks rather musical)

Correspondence

sent to the Son of the Steppes

A long time ago I signed up with the Post Due postcard collective, and sporadically ever since, I have sent postcards to the folks. Sometimes I even get some back. I just discovered that one particular gent, Ryan, has been posting the ones he sends me on his special blog. I am lucky! He sent a bunch to me. There is the most recent one.


to Dax in Chicago

I have been laboring at my drafting table all afternoon (just taking breaks to eat bread and chocolate) catching up with nearly six months of backlogged postcards.



to Ryan in Austin TX



to Carolee of Post Pod



to the KB in the Hamlet



sent to Amanda in Brooklyn

This one was particularly fun to do. The original card was a art-reference card of a northern renaissance triptych. One of the panels was illustrating the Wedding at Cana, and this woman reading was sitting at the end of the table, rather prominently. I wasn't sure if she was the patron of the piece, or a prefiguration of Whistler's Mother. Either way, I like her.

Here's the card Amanda sent me.