Some thoughts

For as long as I can remember I’ve always been a letter writer. When both of my sons were arrested letter writing became a literal lifeline for us. Being able to send them handmade cards, drawings, etc., was my way of sharing something tangible that I held with them. It was also a way to insert color and beauty into a space that rejects both of these things signs of disorder. Whenever I would write to them I would embellish the envelopes, and use hand painted papers and cards. Sadly, in most states, we are no longer able to send physical mail directly to incarcerated people, and what we have lost is not trivial. Mail is a bridge between outside and inside. It is the thing that keeps us going. It’s a physical representation that we are here—that we exist. Scans are not the same as a handmade card. Emails are not the same as a drawing from a child. These photographs are evidence of what we had and what we’ve lost. This system is cruel and every day it finds new measures to extend it’s cruelty with the full and enthusiastic consent of so many. We could have better, but this is what we choose instead.