Prentbriefkaart aan de familie van Philip Zilcken before 1930

This address, scrawled in ink, was made on a postcard by an anonymous artist. The sepia ink fades in places, but the upstrokes and downstrokes of each letter are present, mapping the movement of the writer's hand. I love that there are no erasures, just a confidence in each stroke, a trust in the process. The card itself has yellowed with age, lending a warmth to the piece. The texture of the card seems smooth, not especially absorbent, and the ink has bled slightly into the fibres, giving each word a soft, unfocused edge. Look at the slight waver in the lines, the way the letters crowd together in places, then stretch out in others. It's the kind of handwriting that suggests a story, a history, an entire world of correspondence. This feels like On Kawara's date paintings, but intimate rather than monumental. Art is, after all, just this ongoing, meandering conversation across time and space.