Why Postcards? Defying the Digital Age: How Postcards Bring Us Back to What's Real

Me, 13 years old, on vacation (I think this was at a haunted hotel), fresh postcard in hand.

When I look back on my life, I can see these defining moments, these core memories that revolve around postcards. It’s as if they’ve been following me, leaving behind a breadcrumb trail of cognitive mile markers, subconsciously guiding me back to places they somehow knew I’d want to revisit. 

I like science, so I make sure this work is backed up with something tangible, something that can be “proven.” (I also love being “right.” Don’t we all?) You can read the Science Behind Post Pop and how postcards create stronger emotional connections and activate sensory pathways in the brain in the “About” section. But that’s just the data to support something I’ve always felt.

Postcards are magic.

(Not woo-woo, fluffy magic, but actual, science-based magic. Did you read the "Science Behind Post Pop" yet?)

There’s something about postcards that give us a low-voltage kickstart every time we hold them in our hands. They’re a portal to our inner child. They release our creativity, our sense of curiosity, our inspiration. They open up parts of us that have been reframed and reconfigured to adhere to to-do lists, a strange comfortability and normalcy with excessive screen time and the incessant need to be constantly producing.

Growing up, I would send and collect postcards while on vacation, as kids do. Dropping them in the mail, hoping they would successfully arrive to their intended recipient, wondering how long it would take, would I be home before they got to their destination? The whole process was filled with a buzz, a mix of excitement and anticipation. The postcard being on its own adventure was an extension of mine.  

For the postcards I didn’t send, I tucked them away in a shoebox or a small cedar box, nestled alongside shells, smelly erasers, colorful strings turned into bracelets, coins, trinkets and other treasures I had collected, like a crow gathering artifacts and shiny things. All next to my postcards, in my box, where I only kept the most special of relics.

For me, postcards open up a sense of wonder. To even look at one requires a bit of inquisition. In a general sense, they typically reflect places and adventures, but they didn’t start out that way.

A BRIEF HISTORY

Original postcard from Austria, dated 1870. Source: Undivided-Back Postcards

Postcards originated in Austria around 1869, although concepts of "correspondence cards" trace back to the 1840s. At the time, they were practical. Plain cards with space for a message on one side and an address on the other, created out of necessity in that they were less expensive to send than letters.

The first postcards with images were introduced in France in the 1870s, featuring lithographed or engraved illustrations that were marketed as souvenirs. Between the 1890s and the 1910s postcards blew up and the timeframe became known as the “Golden Age of Postcards.” Advances in printing technology allowed for vibrant, colorized postcards that depicted landmarks, humorous scenes and personal messages. 

Now, back to why postcards…

WHY POSTCARDS? (REVISITED)

PostSecret by Frank Warren

Around the time I was settling into my first apartment, I stumbled upon a book at Goodwill called PostSecret. How anyone could give up this book, is beyond me. PostSecret began as a community art project by Frank Warren, where individuals would anonymously send in postcards revealing their deepest secrets. The rules were, “Reveal anything–as long as it is true and you have never shared it with anyone before. Be brief. Be legible. Be creative.” Frank handed out blank postcards to strangers and left them in public places. The response was astounding.

People from all over the world used elaborate artwork to expel their secrets out into the world and into Frank’s mailbox. To witness this cathartic process, this fully exposed release through PostSecret wholly captivated me. Their artwork and words and emotions and grief and love and life moved through me in waves. I didn’t realize it at the time, but that book had a hold on me. It planted a seed. Later, it would become one of the foundational missions of Post Pop. 

To date, Frank has received 700,000 postcards. 

Inside the first edition of PostSecret, strangers reveal their secrets with elaborate artwork and exposed words.

Postcards are inherently vulnerable. The space is small, so you have to be concise. Every word matters. And yet, this message you’re crafting, this piece of prose rooted in intention, is laid bare for the world to see. Writing and sending a postcard is deeply personal and oddly exposed, a mix of bravery and intimacy. Yet, it is something we do so casually. They are complex and daring pieces of defiance. They are alive just as much as we are. 

A few years ago, I uncovered some postcards my grandma sent my mom in the 1970s. My maternal grandmother was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s at a shockingly young age, 52. When my mom found out she was pregnant with me, my grandma was declining but she knew I was on the way. By the time I arrived on this side, she was no longer fully present in her mind. Her decline seemed to align with my arrival, like our timelines were intertwined. She passed when I was eight. I have only one memory of her and I know it’s not the way she’d want to be remembered. But I know her, through stories from my mom and my family, and through the ways she has shown up for me over the years, in dreams, in messages, in her presence.

My Grandma, 1974

Looking at my grandma’s handwriting on those postcards was like unlocking a time capsule. I’ve never heard my grandmother speak, but through her writing, I hear her voice. Her tone. Her humor. Her motherly worry. Her sense of adventure and wonder. Her silliness. She is a real person. And these few sacred postcards connect me to her in a way nothing else ever could. And thus, my love, appreciation and connection to postcards deepend. 

Only until I saw my grandmother’s postcards, did I ever truly realize their importance. Only then, did I consider attempting to make my own.

HOW POSTCARDS BRING US BACK TO WHAT'S REAL

In a world where we are bombarded with information, where doom scrolling and performative, inauthentic nonsense dominate our social feeds, sending a postcard is a rebellion. An act so small, and yet, so profoundly revolutionary in this digital age, it creates a ripple effect of connection that ground us in what is real, and redefines what is not. 

What is real is that we are humans who beg to be seen. To be felt. To be held. Near or far. In arms or in words and images. We are social animals who crave connection. The longing for community and authentic connection is a collective longing that only continues to grow. Our blinders are slowly disintegrating. We’re beginning to see not only the benefits of reclaiming our communal and connected nature but how essential it is for our pursuit in living a fulfilling and successful existence. 

But these things take time. Years and decades of baby steps and intention. A postcard might not seem like much, but it is an act in reviving the lost art of human connection. 

That's why postcards.