In the past couple years, I’ve gone through a few changes: I left the only place I've ever lived and moved across the country, I started college, lost a relationship with a parent, dated too many skaters, got a puppy, and then moved across the country again. Until this pandemic, I didn't have a chance to stop, to let the dust settle, to absorb the effects of those big life changes.

 

Now that I'm on my own in Portland and rooted here, I’ve found a certain whimsy and sweetness in the little things, like getting mail. My dad still sends me postcards from his vacations, and I find that nothing beats that feeling of receiving something sent with love, made just for you. Recently I sent out a blast on Instagram for people to share their addresses, so that I could send each person a little collaged surprise. I felt lucky when many people responded with enthusiasm. Over the span of just a little over a month, cards have gone everywhere from Tokyo to Wisconsin, to friends and family, and also to total strangers. One even made it onto an album cover!

 

I’ve always worked on things when it felt right to do so, and then kept it sealed tight. But by constantly grinding art out, I've started to see a narrative unfold that has brought me a lot of peace. There really is a magic behind art in general that somehow cues your brain to bring all of its mental junk to the surface. In this weird state of creating, I feel as though each card has brought me closer to an acceptance of where I am today and what old shit has got to go. 

 

When making the postcards, it was difficult not to get attached to them. But in deciding which card would go to whom, I intuitively selected it based on what qualities I felt fit the receiver. All in all, finally sending those cards was so cathartic and so comforting. There seems to be this subtle magic that happens in collage. It’s a practice that, especially now, serves as a great reminder that if you can be patient, mess around and let things unfold, beautiful things can arise.