dearkimlow.com

Artwork and letters by hand, documenting simple pleasures, elusive moods, and humble stories.

(12.20.2024)

Holiday Card, 2024

Dimensions

4″ × 6″ and 4.25″ × 5.5″

Materials

Cover-weight paper stock; cotton board; pencil; gold watercolor; white ink; acid-free paper adhesive

unavailable / artist’s collection and private collections

Two holiday cards, each decorated with paper stamps depicting scenes of San Francisco, sit on a snow-like surface next to deep green envelopes. An angled close up of the card reveals the many layers of colored cardstock that makes up each paper stamp. Individual paper stamps are scattered on the snow-like surface. The first stamp depicts a cloudy twilight sky, where blue clouds are brushed with lavender edges beneath a fingernail moon. The second stamp imagines a two evergreen leaves mixed with festive red berries. The third stamp imagines a view of the East Bay hills covered in a historical dusting of snow. The fourth stamp depicts the stunted flora of the coastal cliffs with fog in the background. The fifth stamp reimagines the western side of the city in another era, when a red dairy barn might have presided over a field of green grasses and brush.

So many people on my holiday mailing list are intimately familiar with San Francisco. They live in it, they work in it, or they passed years of a younger life here.

I’m not sure exactly what the city looks like to them, in their mind’s eye. To me, it’s a place cradled by history and dreams. I see a land shaped by ecological forces and human ideals.

I had some trepidation about sending this vision to people who were, quite literally, standing in the city when they opened their cards. Someone will read and wonder, “San Francisco?” I worry they will think, “But this looks nothing like the buildings or zeitgeist around me.” And also: “Why postage stamps representing a place that I’m already in?”

But I’m not going to overthink it. Wherever you are, near or far, I hope your holidays are blessed with happy memories, heartwarming moments, and an appreciation for the humble things that surround you.

I.

I’ve seen dramatic clouds of twilight floating in the crisp, late autumn air. When the storm finally breaks, the sky becomes a prism of fleeting brilliance. The vision is only there for moments before the world is cast into shadows. The moon remains, the most delicate of slivers.

II.

Round, red holiday berries don’t grow natively here. Neither do they grow on pine needles. But local creative folks immersed in the holiday spirit will find ways to conjure an illusion of such things.

III.

Several times a week, I catch a glimpse of the East Bay foothills as I crest over one of the city’s many hills. They are a constant and comforting presence from my childhood. I wonder if I’ll ever see them dusted with snow, like those pictures from the winter that it snowed in the city.

IV.

I could never resist San Francisco’s rocky shoreline. Tiny coastal plants hug the surface against the blustering winds, taking comfort in the fog that washes over them on most days. This symbol of perseverance continues to make its way into my work.

V.

Once upon a time, the western neighborhoods were a vast land of sand dunes. Then they became rolling lands of dairy farms. The ghost of one such farm still stands along the route of my morning walks. The rest of the farms were overtaken by the westward march of homes, gridded streets, and the ringing of trolley bells. Nowadays, even the trolley bells are gone.