In December 2019, I handmade postcards and letters then mailed them to different friends and family. I plan on doing another snail mail round at the end of January. If you’d like to receive one, you can send me your address through email.
Drawing different versions of the typewriter became a much needed meditation practice. Though I ended up choosing the fourth edition for the mailings, here’s a comparison:
There’s a comforting fit, here: the ink of a pen and the ink of a typewriter. I haven’t quite figured out the best way to structure a poem with an illustration–but I’m having a lot of fun experimenting.
I sent these out in envelopes for two reasons. Being printed on regular copy paper, they seemed too fragile to travel through the rough and tumble world of transit snail mail. Admittedly, I didn’t think to arrange the illustrative backs in a way that would constitute room for an address.
The poem itself went through three or four iterations before I landed on the perfect one:
Beneath the Winter lies the Waiting
Beneath the winter lies the waiting.
We watch for it on our early mornings,
our midnight walks between barren trees.
What’s under the ice–beyond
the beautiful reflected black glass,
the breaking in the sound of a crack–
the whole of us peering into the earth, listening.
I pick up a stone. Let it warm
in my palms. And when we return
(like familiar bird calls
in spring), I place it on its mantle.
A fire alive in a hearth. Outside,
our favorite dance: moonlight
scattered in snow, mirroring stars.
Overall, I’m pleased with the finished product. Tomorrow I hope to write a post breaking down the poetic decisions I made to get the piece this far.
If you like handmade pieces like this one, you might find these mixed-media pieces pleasant:
This is a painting I finished in 2015. It is now the back of my business cards. The mixed-media poem reads: she sings the molecular swoon.