Ghost Love Stationary

Multidisciplinary artist Paolo Scoppola visited our class in March 2020. He brought his magic box: a depth camera that captured and digitized 3D forms in real-time. Projected onto the wall, his program transformed our silhouettes into colorful blobs and glowing outlines, which were projected onto the wall in front of us.

While we stood waving our arms around in empty space, our silhouettes played with virtual marbles, collected floating hearts, and shooed away mosquitos.

Working with Paolo, we each created what he called a scene, importing background and particle images to create a unique virtual environment. I gave Paolo a .jpeg of a chrome orb and an abstract blue background. He tinkered on his computer for a few minutes and created something breathtaking.

The scene resembled a snowy night. My blue silhouette left a fading afterimage as I moved. Snow collected gingerly around my form, then drifted away as I pushed it. The song I had chosen for the background track was both stirring and wistful, like a long train journey. At Paolo’s prompting, I called it “Sacred Space.”

Since I don’t own a depth camera, I could not keep Paolo’s scene—it was ephemeral as the snowy feeling it represented.

I grew up in Los Angeles county, where it doesn’t snow. I cherished the winters where my family would drive up to the mountains to visit a ski park or rent a cabin for a few days. We would go with another family, friends of ours. I had a crush on the youngest son.

When I think about walking in the snow, watching the white wind brush the trees, I get a strange, tight feeling in my chest. It’s the memory of the kind of pure, innocent, unselfish, and fearless love that only children can really experience.

I fell out of touch with my childhood friend during middle school. While I have no particular desire to get back in contact, I still linger on the love I once felt for him. I wondered: if I did speak to him again, what would I say?

Greeting cards are interesting objects. For the person who inscribes the card, they are like the snow, ephemeral. They pass out of your hands, and you may never see them again. The love and care you invested in them goes with it. But it doesn’t disappear. It doesn’t melt. It goes someplace. And what was an ephemeral slip of paper for you may become a lasting keepsake for another person. It is the very evidence of your love.

My cards were illustrated digitally and riso-printed in 2 colors on cardstock. The caption, “Is Love Alive?” is a lyric from Winter Song by Ingrid Michaelson and Sara Bareilles.

The cards are designed to be sent to people you once loved, but are no longer in contact with. They can be used as regular greeting cards by removing the flyer.

I also Riso-printed and laminated stickers based on my illustrations. My friends tell me they’ve already stuck these on their computers, sketchbooks, and phones.

Here’s the complete set—including the gold envelopes and wax I bought, and the wax seal I laser-engraved with my swan design.

In case you’re wondering, no, I haven’t sent a letter to that childhood crush of mine. Three of the four cards and stickers have been sent, though.