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I express my love through cards. What starts as a solution to my lack of organization around birthdays becomes my way of expressing love. Drawn cards can communicate what makes our connection unique. The fits of wheezes born from the corn song, the 2005 Lloyds TSB advert aria and Vita’s “7th Element” could become real on the page.

Time is limited. When the time is nearly too late, I have found these to be creative ways I can hug someone from far away and voice the words that I can’t formulate in sentences. The drawings have built up defenses against the flows of sadness and guilt forming after removing myself from in person delivery. Sometimes, these cards have become displayed as themselves, or decoration of an interior overseas.

Postcards are merchandising. Postcards are personal. Postcards of artworks, photographs and sculptures contain their subject and their context. They hold my moment. Intuition governs which images summarize my discovery. New museums, places and galleries reshape my mind. When learning is so dynamic and so malleable, these static images feel solid, holding enough truth to feel sincere.

The pieces of overpriced card feel like a small vessel, holding nuances of choice, enjoyment, interest and learning, ready to bridge a growing me to an older home across the ocean.
An emotional bond towards each postcard image grows. Its potency increases the longer it stays with me. Their finite nature makes me anxious to wait. I wait for the right moment for which the postcard could best communicate the right words when my words can’t match. The picture and the card elevates the moment of connection to those I love.

A rich display of physical objects bound to those special to me is intrinsic to my construction of a safe space and home. This understanding of love places privilege on my ability to add to theirs. A bilateral building of our worlds. Parallel walls become filled as our lives grow, away from each other.