Nike's Advice continues with a selection of small works

(Above: Top row, left to right: Nike's Advice XIX, XX, and XXI. These are 13 1/2" squares.  Each one is $275.  Bottom row, left to right Nike's Advice XXII, XXII, and XXIV. The first one is also a 13 1/2" square at $275. The last two are 11 1/2" squares at $225.  Click on any image to enlarge.)

Last April, during the mandatory COVID-19 shutdown, I spent a day painting unprimed canvas outdoors.  I used mostly acrylic paint but also some inks, oil pastels, chalk, anything that just happened to be laying around because I rarely purchase materials "new to me".  The paints and canvas came from auctions, yard sales, and as donations from friends.  I had a total blast!  Shortly afterwards, I wrote a blog post featuring how these abstract paintings (or should I simply admit these were just swirls of colors, hardly "paintings" at all) were transformed by free-motion stitching with 100% black cotton thread.  (CLICK HERE to read that blog post.)

(Above, left to right:  Nike's Advice XXXI, XXIX, and XXXIV. Each one is 16" x 10" and $240.)


Ever since then, I've continued working with the painted canvas.  Most of the pieces were ripped into smaller sections.  One by one, I've been stitching them.  Next, each one was mounted on foam-centered board atop a wooden stretcher bar by hammering either galvanized or copper 3/4" roofing nails along the perimeter.  The sides of the stretcher bars were then painted black.  Finally, artist-grade, UV filtering epoxy was poured over each one.

(Above, left to right:  Nike's Advice XXXV and Nike's Advice XXXIII. Each one is 16" x 10" and $240.)

Finally, my studio was transformed into a place for photography.  Capturing images of highly reflective epoxy covered artwork is hard.  My studio, however, has color-correcting track lighting aimed directly downward.  It seems to work.

 (Above, left to right: Nike's Advice XXV, XXX, XXXVI, and XXVI.  Each one is 16" x 10" and $240.)

So at long last, I have these twenty pieces finished, photographed, and now shared on my blog!  Hurrah!

(Above, left to right:  Nike's Advice XXVII, XXXII, XXXVII, and XXIII. Each one 16" x 10" and $240.)

So, am I finished?  Of course NOT!  I've already begun several other pieces meant for this same treatment.  Like these works, the new ones are in various stages of development.  The studio is a mess.  This is just how I like it!

(Above:  Nike's Palmetto Tree. 23" x 13". $325.)

Back in April, I drew a stylized palmetto tree on one of the wet canvases.  I stitched this section differently.  The free-motion lines define the tree but do not extend into the painted background.  I'm very pleased with how this turned out.  There are always new possibilities when experimenting!  

(Above:  Nike's Palmetto Tree, detail.)

Impossible Sites

(Above: My sketch submission for Impossible Sites.  Click on image to enlarge.)

A recent email from the American Craft Council included a link to this Black Cube art opportunity.  I didn't see it.  Steve did.  The very idea of an "impossible installation" tickled his fancy. This was an idea he thought I ought to pursue ... so why not?

If you are reading this shortly after I've written this, you too can participate!  The deadline isn't until June 5th.  FIND THE SUBMISSION HERE. 

The first paragraph reads:
Impossible Sites invites American artists to submit sketches or renderings of impossible site-specific artworks for a cash award and inclusion in an online zine. This open call is intended to support artists living and working in the United States who have been financially impacted by COVID-19.

I'm guessing that part of Steve's encouragement is based on the knowledge that I am an artist who has been impacted by COVID-19.  How?  Well, everything got cancelled; all galleries offering my work were/are closed; our frame shop was deemed "non-essential"; basically, we have no income.  That would be "impacted".  Plus, I've filled out plenty of forms seeking support.  I haven't gotten any funding but I've spent plenty of time jumping through these hopeful hoops.  This opportunity, however, wasn't just about providing depressing financial number.  It had humor and fun built right into it, and I did have a total blast creating my sketch!  The submission form even required an explanation as to why the project was impossible.  Now, how much fun is that!  (There wasn't even an enter fee!)

Ordinarily, I would have browsed through the hosting organization's website to determine whether my work seemed fitting.  This time, I didn't bother.  I'm glad I didn't bother.  Had I seen the cutting-edge and experimental work, I would have deemed myself too old, too traditional, and not large enough ... but why?  Given an opportunity, I could be anything.  Now that's an impossible dream ... or is it? 

Please enjoy the silliness of my impossible installation!

Thank You Mr. Fujita: Tornado Quilt

(Above:  Thank You Mr. Fujita.  55" x 55".  Recycled yellow vinyl triangles free-motion stitched to a synthetic upholstery fabric.  Click on any image to enlarge.)

This past week has been a whirlwind!  It all started last Tuesday after uploading images of Stir Crazy in South Carolina for consideration in a special exhibition called Quarantine Quilt.  This show will happen at the upcoming International Festival of Quilts (IQF) in Houston and it is the brain-child of curator Dr. Sandra Sider.  While on the IQF website, I couldn't help but to notice another special exhibition called The Math and Science of Quilts.  It sounded interesting but not necessarily an idea on which I might act ... until the next night!

 (Above:  Sitting on the living room floor hand quilting the piece.)

That night Steve and I watched an episode of the American Experience called Mr. Tornado.  I was expecting Steve to be really excited.  After all, Steve's undergraduate degree is in meteorology.  I didn't think I would be excited, inspired, and profoundly affected ... but I was! The program was eye-opening.  The images of destruction were horrible, but it was Ted Fujita's steadfast passion to study these forces that I found most inspirational ... especially his later research into micro-bursts and thunder storm down-bursts that led to new pilot training and advancements in aviation weather forecasting.  I feel totally grateful that airline travel is so much safer now than it was before 1975 when Mr. Fujita revolutionized this field of study!  (I am not sure how many times I'd been aboard trans-Atlantic flights before Eastern Air Lines Flight 66 crashed on my birthday, June 24, 1975 killing 113 of the 124 people on board. This was the crash that got Mr. Fujita involved in this area of research ... thank goodness!)

 (Above:  Trying to adjust the studio lights in order to photograph the finished quilt.  I'm actually standing on my work table!)

Even while the television show was still airing, my mind was spinning with an idea for a new quilt.  I could almost "see" a cyclone of yellow triangles on a black field.  Perhaps this was because the yellow vinyl triangles were still in my trash bin.  Perhaps this was because the bolt of cheap, synthetic upholstery material was on hand.  Perhaps this was because some hair-brained ideas are worth pursuing if for no better reason than the challenge of it!  By the next day, I thought to myself, "Why not try to make this piece and enter it into that science and math call-for-entry?  You have a full week to get it done!"

 (Above:  Thank you Mr. Fujita, detail.)

So, I started last Thursday afternoon knowing that the deadline for entry was in exactly one week.  The rules stated that the finished quilt had to be at least 50" on each side.  The upholstery fabric measured 58".  I whacked off a nice square and started free-motion stitching the yellow vinyl triangles onto the center.  These triangle really did come out of my trash can.  They were the parts and pieces discarded and snipped off my Quarantine Flags.  So in a sense, this pieces were twice recycled!  They were recycled first after pop-up containment pools were constructed at CoverTech when I made the Quarantine Flags.  Now, they were recycled from that installation and onto this art quilt.

 (Above:  Thank You Mr. Fujita, detail.)

Yellow triangles are perfect for illustrating a tornado.  First, triangles are used on weather maps for cold fronts. Tornadoes happen when different temperature masses of air collide.  It's quite complicated but frontal systems are involved ... and thus "triangles" would show up on weather maps!  Yellow, of course, is the traditional color for cautionary symbols and warnings of all kinds.  Think about caution tape and caution traffic lights.  Then, think about tornado sirens and shelters and the need for taking precaution!  Furthermore, wind barbs notations on weather maps are shown with a little triangle at fifty knots (and two triangles at 100 knots!)  Having my yellow triangles going in every direction indicates the chaos and destructive power of a tornado.

(Thank You Mr. Fujita, detail.)

After stitching all the triangles down using 100% black cotton thread, I stitched with silver metallic.  Then, the entire piece was put upon another piece of synthetic upholstery material.  This piece was solid black. Finally, I spent several days on my living room floor hand stitching the two layers together.  The pattern provided a guide.  I used a thin black yarn to ply running stitches in all the areas where there weren't triangles.  The last thing done was to edge-turn bind the work.  The black fabric was flipped up and hand stitched down.  Today, I shot the photos.  It was difficult because the vinyl seemed to catch the light from the overhead track.  At least my studio lights are UV correcting and the shots were managed.  Whether or not this art quilt goes to Houston doesn't matter to me.  I finished it and submitted it a full day before the deadline! 

In Box CCCLXXIV

(Above:  In Box CCCLXXIV.  Totally hand-stitched. Framed, 22" x 18"; unframed 15" x 11". Inventory # 4785. $395.)

I finished another one!  This is how I've been spending my evenings, hand-stitching with a riot of colors.  Most of the threads are either DMC embroidery floss or Danish Flower thread.  All of this thread came from Bill Mishoe's auction.  I really feel good about using the remains of some anonymous woman's stash.  Every bit of it was purchased with good intentions and is now being used.

(Above:  In Box CCCLXXIV, detail.)

Quarantine Flags, a new outdoor installation

 (Above:  Quarantine Flags at Saluda Shoals Park. Click on any image to enlarge.)

Last September I was contacted with regards to leftover scraps of "material" looking for an artist who might want to recycle them into art.  Was I interested?  Well ... of course!  So off I drove to CoverTech, a specialized contract manufacturer in North Augusta, SC.  CoverTech "helps in the development and manufacturing of products that cover, protect, contain, and enclose," including pop-up containment pools meant to catch hazardous liquid leaks.  The process of creating these pop-up pools also created literally thousands of bright yellow, plastic triangles.  I drove back home with three giant-sized boxes which I later condensed into two boxes (so heavy that I couldn't pick them up!)  They went into the garage because, at the time, I had absolutely no idea for them. 

Seriously, what was I going to do with this many double-sided triangles?  Each one had obviously been cut via a melting rod along one, long side.  I knew these could be used for an outdoor installation but I had no ideas beyond that.

 (Above:  Daniel Buren's striped flags along the High Line in New York City.)

Sure, I thought about Daniel Buren's striped flags. I saw them along the High Line in New York City earlier last year.  Of course, I could do something like that ... but why would I want to copy the work of an internationally known French artist whose installation speaks to rising nationalism around the world?  I don't want to "copy" anyone and I have no desire to evoke any thoughts about nationalism.  Wisely, I forgot about the boxes of yellow triangles.   I hoped and prayed that "something" would happen to spark an original idea that did speak to my experiences and concerns.

 (Above:  Man and His Dog in Quarantine.)

Then, "something" did happen ... COVID-19!  "Something" was being deemed "non-essential", sheltering in place, practicing social distancing, dealing with cancellations and postponements and isolation ... basically ... QUARANTINE!

Ideas started bubbling, especially with regards to "flags" ... or rather PENNANTS.  Triangular shaped pennants date back to the chivalrous knights of the Middle Ages, the mastheads of warships, and to more recent sports teams (as in "The Giants win the pennant!")  By stitching these yellow triangles together, I wouldn't be copying Daniel Buren at all.  I would be creating a length of cautionary flags that could express my thoughts on the current, global crisis. (Further below is my conceptual statement.)

 (Above:  Fastening Quarantine Flags to a gate closure.)

Last week I stitched and stitched and stitched.  I used nothing new.  The tape along which the individual triangles were stitched had once been decorative trim donated to me.  Even the yellow thread came from some other lady's stash.  While stitching, I thought about how these flags might look in nature ... separating one area from another.  I thought about the questions they would visually pose.  I thought about how people would interact with the flags and with the spaces they might outline.  Most of all, I thought about the physical demands and the installation process.  Just how was this going to work?
 

 (Above:  Tying the Quarantine Flags to a tree without damaging the tree!)

Finally, I contacted my friend Dolly Patton, executive director for Saluda Shoals Park Foundation, and shared my foggy vision for this installation.  I needed a "play date" in nature.  There was so much to learn ... like "How to attach the Quarantine Flags to a tree without harming the tree?" and "Does the recycled decorative trim hold up?" and "Will people pose inside enclosures?" and "Will photographs look like areas have been surrounded, contained, etc.?" Thankfully, Dolly truly understands the nature of art, the creative mindset for exploration, and has a willingness to try something new.  Yesterday morning, Dolly went with Steve and me to the park.  We installed the Quarantine Flags in four different locations and learned plenty!
 

 (Quarantine Flags: Trail Closed.)

We learned that wrapping trees isn't the best approach.  In the future, I will have short lengths of rope to tie around the tree.  Zip ties will attach the flags to the rope.  Zip ties will come in handy for other means of attachments too.  I learned that wide rick-rack is not strong enough to be used.  This was the only place that broke.  On a positive note, people are curious and willing to pose (and also sign model releases!)

 (Above:  Family in Quarantine I.)

Public engagement enhanced several images.  The pictures suggest a protective space.

 (Above:  Safety.)

They also pose questions about who and what we try to protect in safe places.

 (Above:  Love Forever in Quarantine.)

They speak to the reason society institutes quarantines ... because of love. Through quarantine measures we attempt to keep safe those we love.

 (Family in Quarantine II.)

Here's my conceptual statement.  It might change in the future and with other interactions in both nature and with the public, but this is a good start!

Yellow plastic triangles were the castaway material from pop-up hazardous waste containment pools created by Carolina Cover Tech of North Augusta, SC. They were donated to fiber and installation artist Susan Lenz in September 2019. At that time, the artist had no ideas for their use. That changed during the COVID-19 crisis. Lenz's custom picture framing business was deemed non-essential and like so many others, she adjusted to "sheltering in place" and maintaining social distancing on the rare occasions she left her house. Her mind turned to the yellow triangles as the means to pose questions about safety, containment, and even the protection of the environment. She stitched the yellow triangles into lengths of quarantine flags. The use of such flags is not unprecedented. In the language of International Maritime signal flags, yellow was the historical symbol of disease on either ship or port. A yellow flag also stands for the letter Q, as in quarantine. Positioning the flags at Saluda Shoals Park on Sunday, May 17 was the installation’s first engagement with nature and the public. The images taken that day ask questions about isolation and the ways society attempts to protect individuals, family, and even cities, states and countries. The installation speaks to the fragility of balance in nature. It poses questions regarding the inside and outside of the containment pools from which the materials were harvested.

(Above:  Inclusive Playground in Quarantine.)

The Quarantine Flags were finally installed in Saluda Shoals new inclusive playground.  It's called Leo's Landing.  This state-of-the-art space open just last August and is a safe place for people of all abilities to enjoy.  Grandparents in wheelchairs should be on the glider swing with their kids. Boys and girls challenged by any number of physical limitations should be on slides and making music in the Sound Garden and playing hide-and-seek among the sculptural elements.  They aren't.  This part of the park is still closed. The Quarantine Flags address the realities of social distancing with kids on a playground.  It hasn't been figured out yet.  Thus the meaning of "inclusive" has been transformed from "a place for everyone" to "a place denied to all." 

These images ask questions about both sides of the barriers and the fragile relationship between "inside" and "outside". 

Only in the playground did we have all the lengths of Quarantine Flags out.  This includes the smallest triangles which were cut into isosceles shapes.  The larger ones have a right angle. No matter which size or shape, the most obvious feature is the bright yellow color.  Even before doing a little research, I sort of knew that yellow is a cautionary color.  It is the color of yield signs and is the flashing light before a traffic signal turns red.  Later I learned that the human eye notices yellow before any other color.  There's a reason it is symbolically used to alert people to dangers!

I also learned that it is a very good idea to keep the long lines separated from one another.

We didn't do that on Sunday.  It took time to unload and sort the tangled lines. To keep them flat and ready for "the next time", they needed to be carefully placed in just one giant box.  The small flags were rolled around three pieces of a heavy corrugated tube.  Working out storage is just another task that is needed when working as an installation artist.

 (Above: Larger Quarantine Flags neatly folded in a storage box.)

(Above: Smaller Quarantine Flags rolled onto corrugated tube sections.)

Finally, I want to share a photo of one of the pop-up containment pools made by CoverTech.  It was from the construction of these environmental safe objects that my installation materials came.
  

(Above:  Pop-up containment pool by CoverTech.)

Monika's Leaf and a hand-stitched In Box

(Above:  Monika's Leaf.  12" x 9" mounted on a 14" x 11" piece of mat board. Click on any image to enlarge.)

Recently I made four Window Series pieces and posted them both on my blog and on Facebook.  One of the four was a leaf design.  It resonated with a special person who thought it might fit into her  favorite (but now empty) frame.  I know about "favorite frames"!  As a custom picture framer, I have lots of them.  A special frame is often one selected for a nursery or "first home" or the "kitchen of one's dreams".  When kids grow up or people move or the time comes to remodel, these special frames can become empty.  The frame in question was a standard 14" x 11" frame ... almost "right" for the leaf I had just finished ... but not "perfect".  I suggested making a leaf to fit the special frame.  Happily, the new leaf is mounted on mat board and on it's way to it's special frame.  During these pandemic days (all the galleries representing me are closed and so is my frame shop), commissions are SO IMPORTANT.  Thank you, Monika!  

(Above:  In Box CCCLXXIII.  Totally hand-stitched. Framed, 22" x 18"; unframed 15" x 11". Inventory # 4784. $395.)

I stitched Monika's Leaf over the weekend.  Machine stitching happens during the day.  During the evening, I'm hand-stitching.  This past weekend also saw the finish of In Box CCCLXXIII, a totally hand-stitched In Box Series piece.
 

(Above:  In Box CCCLXXIII, detail.)

These hand-stitched In Box Series pieces are a riot of color.  I have to admit though, the calluses on several of my left hand fingers are pretty sore. At least the touch of poison ivy I got from the weekend before is getting better!  I'm terribly allergic and managed to get a rash on my left wrist despite being covered from head to toe!  If it's not one thing, it's another!  Regardless, I'll continue both stitching and clearing the back yard of undesirable weeds!

Pandemic

(Above:  Pandemic. 29" x 29".  Antique child's sailor suit shirt mounted on a vintage Carrom board with hundreds of assorted nails, screws, and various small objects.  Click on any image to enlarge.)

The little sailor suit shirt was in the stash that went to the Rensing Center in 2018 when I made my installation The Cocoon.  For some reason, I didn't use it.  It went to Springfield, Illinois earlier this year when I started my current installation, The Clothesline.  It just didn't find a place there either, but I thought more about it ... wondering why I wasn't using it ... wondering what sort of thoughts went through my mind at the very sight of it.


(Above:  Pandemic, detail.)

Cute little sailor suits remind me of the Romanov girls on summer holidays before the Russian revolution and their execution.  They remind me of wealthy English families sending their kids to boarding school and the Vienna Boys Choir on faraway international tours.  They make me think of beloved children who died of the influenza flu of 1918, the year my 101 year old grandmother was born.

When my grandma was six years old, her elder sister Alma died suddenly of spinal meningitis.  It was a week or so before Alma's sixteenth birthday. Perhaps this sad occasion compelled my great-grandma to have more photos taken of her three younger chidren, including a studio sessiond uring which my six or seven year old grandmother wore a little sailor suit, complete with faux insignia on the sleeve. Maybe in the recesses of my mind, I assoicate the sailor suit with the sadness that haunted my great grandma? 

(Above:  Me holding reproductions of my great-grandma's pictures.  I had these copies made back in the early 1980s, before digital photograph.  Each one was captured by a SLR camera on a copy stand and printed on sepia toned paper to best emulate the look of the original.  I paid a small fortune for them ... on the salary of a waitress.)

COVID-19 created an environment that seemed right for the sailor suit shirt. I thought about my great grandmother who was pregnant during almost all of 1918.  (Grandma was born in December).  I thought about my grandmother living through the polio scare, worrying about her son and daughter, my uncle and mother.  During a recent telephone call, I asked grandma about it.  She admits to being scared and remembered donating the the March of Dimes.  The history of modern day pandemics became quite close.  The sailor suit shirt became quite visceral.  The fear of the unknown, the time waiting for a vaccine, and the precautions against infection fell into a timeline shared by parents of all ages and all cultures and all times, especially today while we all face the COVID-19 crisis.  (Grandma is doing well but aware of the virus.)

 

 (Above:  Unusual animal inspired fetish figure in the collection of the Louvre in Paris.)

I started seeing the sailor suit nailed as if a fetish figure from the Congo. Most of these wooden sculptures depict a human-looking form.  They are covered in nails that western cultures mistake for some sort of evil voodoo and ways to cast witchcraft spells on other people.  The origin, however, speaks as much to the desire of individuals and tribal communities trying to ward off evil.  (For more information, CLICK HERE for an excellent article from the V&A.)

 
 (Above:  Pandemic, detail.)

Because COVID-19 is a global crisis, I thought about different cultures and their history and fears and how smallpox nearly wiped out much of the Native American tribes in the late 18th century.  I thought about the Black Death in Florence in 1348, a subject that was pivotal during my years earning a degree in Medieval and Renaissance Studies.  There are all sorts of rituals and ways people attempted to ward off illness and death.  Creating a fetish figure from a little sailor suit seemed appropriate even though I worried about "artistic and cultural appropriation".

(Above:  My three hammers.  Each one came in handy!)

Finally, I could no longer resist the idea of transforming the child's sailor suit shirt into a fetish symbol.  Hammering nails into it proved to be an excellent way to symbolically "fight back".  It took days and a sore left thumb (yes ... I missed the nails' heads more than once) to finish the project.

(Above:  Pandemic, detail from an angle.)

Once I decided to act, the pieces fell into place.  I forgot I owned a vintage Carrom board, but it seemed to appear just at the right time.  I forgot just how many nails and screws I owned, but they seemed to appear at my fingertips.  The back of the sailor collar was cut away and made to look like a bow.  Clock gears, keys, rusted square roofing nails, scissors, an ice pick, a fishing sinker, a spring, and a faucet knob were added almost immediately.  I found a scrap of fabric stitched from vintage men's ties to rough cut into a heart shape.  Strange nails with ceramic beads nailed it into place.  I got those nails from Ellen Kochansky at the Rensing Center.  My stash also revealed an old Jiffy peanut-butter jar of used upholstery tacks that outlined the garment.  My newer tacks went around the outside edge. 

(Above:  Pandemic, detail.)

Because most fetish figures from the Congo contain an enclosure with a mirror, I added a very small metal container.  The interior is a very shiny silver.  The reflection is almost as good as a tiny mirror.  Inside are several items "for hope and luck".  There's a flattened penny and three religious charms, one of which has a prayer for health and happiness.  On the outside is a souvenir charm featuring Sacajawea.  I distressed the outside a bit.

(Above:  Pandemic, detail.)

I am very, very pleased with this work.  Making it was therapeutic. Each pound of my three hammers felt like "beating back" the COVID-19 but also a prayer for a better world.

Those who probably will criticize me for culture appropriation ought to know that I was inspired, not trying to usurp something that wasn't cultural mine.  During a pandemic, the world ought to be together.  Any approach to warding off evil should be respected for the hope and prayers offered not by the origin of the concept.
  

(Above:  Pandemic, detail.)

Using nails appeals to me for an important reason.  I love the symbolism of a nail.  To me, nails represent two things in the minds of my cultural upbringing:  Christ's crucifixion and construction.  To me, both interpretations are BITTERSWEET, my very favorite word in the English language.  Why?  Well, Christ's crucifixion means salvation but it is a really horrible and painful way to die.  In construction, nails pierce materials ... which is an awesome way to start building anything but neither piece will ever be pristine again.  Bittersweet.  Like keys and wooden thread spools, I've need using nails in my work since the beginning.

(Above:  Wrapped old nails, a piece I did in about 2004.)

I've wrapped literally thousands of old, rusty nails.  Once wrapped, nails look like miniature adults:  a strong spine, a soft middle, the patina of age, and an actual head.  Perhaps the people in the Congo felt the same way about the nails they used.  Perhaps people everywhere have similar relationships to their materials and symbols because we all sure have  hope that this pandemic will soon be something in the past ... until the next time.

Postcards

 (Above:  Twenty-eight postcards.  Click on any image to enlarge.)

It all started when I realized that I'd made fifty-one compositions in my recent Laundry Day Series.  I only intended to make fifty.  So, I threw the last one onto a stack of pages from Charles Richardson's English Language Dictionary (1846) that were already fused to fabric and loosely stitched.  Some of these pages became part of my Great Quotation Series, a project that ended a couple years ago.  The extra pieces were just "sitting there gathering dust". An idea occurred!  Why not cut all these things up and turn them into postcards? 

 
 (Above:  Postcards being glued to sheets of colored paper.)

A few minutes at my paper cutter, the stack was transformed into twenty-eight 4" x 6" rectangles.  Something was needed for the back ... a place for an address.  Paper was required.  Another idea occurred!  I remembered a gift from a friend.  Years ago Joe Wider gave me a package of intensely colored paper.  I used matte medium to attach the postcards to several of the 6" x 9" pieces of paper.  The next day, they were trimmed and flattened in my dry mount press.  They are now ready to be mailed ... and the first twenty-seven people to contact me with their physical mailing address are going to get one! 

 
 (Above:  The Color-aid package donated to my stash by Joseph Wider.)

Why just twenty-seven since I made twenty-eight?  Well, the first one (selected at random) is already stamped and on its way to Joseph Wider!  THANKS! 

 (Above:  The back of the Color-aid package.)

Leaving an address as a public comment is probably a poor idea.  My email address is a better place!  It's mouse_house@prodigy.net!  Steve and I have bets on how long it will take for me to run out of postcards.  As I'll put this on Facebook, I'm not thinking it will take too long!