mail room

Two Dot is a small town hosting only a bar and a post office; both are gathering places, places to swap stories, catch up on the news. I like the post office best, because of its social communication and its intricate system of communicating to other places. I am not a Luddite, but I love a stamp, a physical object, the lag time, and the evidence of travel that comes with mail. 

The postal service is a remarkable system. A sender, with feet firmly planted in one location, submits a communication to a series of individuals working together to deliver the communication to another designated location. Messages leave one hand and are delivered to another, each hand touching the same object. Along the way, these messages collect evidence of the journey: bar codes and cancelations smeared into expressive marks, wear and tear from various conveying machines, the oil and grime of hands leaving residue. Hand to hand, location to location, one time to another. 

While in Two Dot, I record the location and time; utilizing the earth’s orbit around the sun and the remarkable affect that trajectory has on light while submitting to the whims of weather. I also jot down my observations as a way of recording my presence in that location and at that time. In mail room the recorded time, location and observations come together on postcards and are mailed to people in other places. I begin the process; the postal service carries it on.