della Cartolina: a postcard journal of photography, illustration, and storytelling

The idea's simple, really: we all live busy lives, what with school, work, email, cell phones, text messages, bills, advertisements. Wouldn't it be nice to get a break from the hectic pace of our daily existence? della Cartolina offers just such a respite--providing subscribers a few minutes of stimulation, laughter, inspiration, reflection, one postcard at a time.
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della Cartolina is a postcard journal of photography, illustration, and storytelling ("della Cartolina" means "of the postcard" in Italian). A new, original card is mailed on the 1st and 15th of each month to subscribers.

If the idea of receiving a small piece of original art every other week intrigues you, I encourage you to sign up for a subscription below (free trial month available). Or have a friend into art? Why not get them a gift subscription?

I've posted samples of completed cards below, to give an idea of what they're like, and an index of all the cards to date is here. Thank you for your interest in della Cartolina!

Zachary Emig, August 19, 2009

SIX-MONTH SUBSCRIPTION
(ONE FREE TRIAL MONTH)
Here's how it works: subscribe below, the first two postcards (ie 1 month) are free. If you continue with your subscription, you'll be getting twelve cards every 6 months for just $9.99 (less than a buck a card!), plus postage.

Samples: (full index here)
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Issue #014	"Nengajo 2010: Year of the Tiger" (non-fiction)	Postmarked: 04-Jan-2009

Text:	In Japan, instead of Christmas cards most families send "nengajo" New Year's postcards. This is my New Year's card, celebrating 2010, Year of the Tiger. The inspiration was the Japanese idiom "koketsu ni irazunba, koji o ezu", which literally translates to "if you don't enter the tiger's cave, you can't get the cubs" (ie precious things always require taking risk).
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Issue #010	"Drowning" (fiction)	Postmarked: 01-Nov-2009

Text:	Front Panel 1: When you've been drowning for years and years, you get used to the cold, wet darkness. Panel 2: Thus, on the rare occasion when you do manage to break free to the surface, a jolt of surprised wonder races through you. Panel 3: "This, this is the real world!" you're reminded, and the sight invigorates you to thrash even harder against the surf. Panel 4: However, once dragged back beneath the waves, that passion is inevitably extinguished, like the sun, by the churning black seas. Back The surface of the water what is it really? Such a thin line, yet it divides everything from nothing. Whether you're ten milliseconds or ten hours from that line matters not. Which side of it you're on, that's what matters. That, and how long you can stay there.
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Issue #009	"A Silver Jazz Night" (non-fiction)	Postmarked: 15-Oct-2009

Text:	I didn't anticipate doing any photography when I stepped out of the Jazz Standard on 27th Street one unseasonably cool Saturday night in August. With an eighty minute set by a classy jazz quintet still in my ears and a fine new-American dinner in my stomach, the night seemed right for a stroll. I headed a couple blocks over to Madison Square Park, a narrow oasis of green in the Flatiron district. Making my way around its paths, I started to notice what an extraordinary tint the sky was, peeking between the trees. A fine, shimmering fog was gently settling over the city, creating a flat, silver ceiling, drained of any color. Then I spotted the Empire State Building, framed by leaves, slipping into a foggy cloak. The scene caught my eye. I always carry a pocket-sized digital camera for just such an occasion, and though shooting in low light without tripod is tricky, I'm happy with the resulting picture. You should know I didn't edit the image's color levels at all--the world really looked that way, like a movie still from a 1940s black & white romance. I'll always remember it as a silver jazz sky.
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Issue #006	"Summer, Jersey Shore: Three Haiku" (poetry)	Postmarked: 01-Sep-2009

Text:	Bak'd sand underfoot Squinting across rainbow fields Bathers, umbrellas Sun perch'd high above Now--thrust into the chill surf! Parch'd skin rejoices Not yet five, but still Summer's hours, days, fleeting like A sandcastle in waves
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Issue #004	"Third Time to Paris" (fiction)	Postmarked: 01-Aug-2009

Text:	This is the third time we've been to Paris, Diane," Lou thought. "And the last." His eyes misted up, and he raised his face so that the other tourists wouldn't see the tears. 1988. Spring Break, their senior year. A week in Paris, budget style. Truly-carefree--walking everywhere, whiling away hours at cafes, smiling...always smiling. 2001. Tenth wedding anniversary. A rare weekend away from the kids. Completely pampered: a room overlooking the Seine, reservations at all the top restaurants, dancing private cars. A gorgeous time. Today. Gazing up at the Eiffel Tower, spring wind buffetting him. Lou so desparately wanted to remember Diane as she was back then... But instead: images of her from those last days battling the cancer, when she was so gaunt. The most upbeat, the most energetic person he'd ever known, too weak to even muster a smile. His compusre slipping, Lou retrieved the small urn from his satchel. Gently, lovingly, he poured his wife's ashes into a small pile amidst the tulips at the base of the South pillar, fulfilling her final wishes. "Goodbye my love," he whispered, and then turned and started his journey home. He would never see Diane again. Nor Paris.
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Issue #003	"Trust Your Superiors; Skate, Dammit, Skate!" (fiction)	Postmarked: 15-Jul-2009

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