You Send Me. Or Not.

The familiar squeak of the turning card rack might just be the soundtrack to my card-seeking life at Louisville's beloved Carmichael’s Bookstore. Let’s see, today’s sentiments are for a new baby, chemotherapy, gratitude, and a birthday. Got it.

Squeak. Squeak. Pause. Ah, “What Fresh Hell is This?” The blank stare of little girl, circa 1920’s standing in a wicker cage is only outdone by insect wings jutting from her starched white frock, parting a crimson drape. Checking the back, it’s from “Holy Crap – It’s Art from Erin and subtitled Real Art for Real Life.” It’ll take a qualified sense of humor to receive this as a get-well card.

In the bag she went that day with three other cards.

I sent none of them. Nope.

Every time I enter my kitchen, three mellow cows, one lop-eared Heifer with fresh grass hanging from her mouth, silently blink at me from their acrylic pasture.

While I liked the card, I fell in love with the bovine-sized original by Kentucky artists Debbie Graviss whose work was displayed in Revelry several years ago. Entitled “Whaz Up” the card had its cultural slogan: Send Kind Words & Happy Thoughts.

Words and thoughts? Yes. Send? Can’t.

I have this glorious problem. I love paper, photography, art, and messages. You can find all those in greeting cards. I can’t get enough of them and I can’t seem to let them go.

At first, it was the lure of the “Blank Inside” retail category. The eyes could discern to reason for sending the card, not some cubicle writer’s prose. Besides, don’t we all feel blank inside from time to time?

Then it became a texture thing. mostly a tribute to paper, the beauty and timelessness of pulp, fiber, You know, those recycled cards kind of raw, absorbent – most of them set by hand on an antique letter press. They’re tactile.

Bear in mind they were supposed to touch someone’s heart, not just my fingertips. A stamp might help but it never gets to that point.

That embossed card with the inked turnips? Yes, this was originally going to my mother but now that I examine it closely…a mainstream Hallmark will do.

Is it financial? Plain selfish? A cry for help? I can't afford large pieces of original art at galleries and find this is a great way to support the artist or the outlet and still have quality images in my home.

About 50% of the cards I purchase make it to the mailbox. The rest are part of my own personal home gallery.

They're constant reminders of guilt - living under magnets on my refrigerator, framed on my wall, or propped up on my desk for inspiration.

I’m not alone. Am I?

One of my favorite cards and postcards creations to hoard comes from Hounddog Press. I purchased several cards as well as a cardboard airplane from co-owner Nick Baute at the Cherokee Art Fair this past spring.

At their East Market shop, all cards are printed on 1930 table top Craftsmen press, an attic orphan donated by a U of L professor, among other acquired antique equipment from1892 to 1960.

His talk about the ink, rollers, blocks, and flywheels had me suspended in a romantic time warp while rooting through my purse to buy two more Coffee: It Makes You Poop cards. I did get a few of those into my friends’ hands but during a recent conversation, I ‘fessed my selfish issue.

“I rarely find out where our cards go once they leave our shop,” he said, “ I've been told some end up in frames on the wall, and some get mailed all over the country. I'm flattered by both. I'm mainly just happy to be promoting letterpress, our goal is to keep this process alive and well in this crazy digital world. I love the confused/surprised look on people's faces when they come in the shop, it never gets old.”

There is a roster of artisans and merchants in Louisville who go the extra mile for the visual and sometimes textural impact of a card. From humility to sarcasm, there is something for everybody.

In the field of journalism, paper is being damned and mocked as high technology takes our books and periodicals into the digital age. Hold on to your paper, whether it be news, cards, or novels.

The real business boon would be to manufacture mattes and frames for cards never exchanged. Tape and magnets don’t do them justice. In the meantime, if I send you a card, I refuse to stoop to sappy verse that I would never utter to your face. Now, all I have to do is send it.

Maybe.