Wish You Were Here


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Wish You Were Here New works referenced by both Instagram and reality by David Wilson

1. Wish You Were Here 24 x 30 inches Acrylic on board 2017 $2,800.00

2. Here 24 x 24 inches Acrylic on board 2017 $2,500.00

3. There 12 x 16 inches Acrylic on board 2017 $800.00

4. I’m Fine 14 x 18 inches Acrylic on board 2017 $1,000.00

5. Are You There 20 x 20 inches Acrylic on board 2017 $1,500.00

6. A Wish 12 x 24 inches Acrylic on board 2017 $1,100.00

7. The Weather is Beautiful 30 x 24 inches Acrylic on board 2017 $2,800.00

8. Quiet 30 x 30 inches Acrylic on board 2016 $3,500.00

9. Having You 24 x 18 inches Acrylic on board 2017 $1,800.00

10. Stay 30 x 30 inches Acrylic on board 2016 $3,500.00

11. There You Are 16 x 16 inches Acrylic on board 2017 $975.00

12. Here You Were 48 x 36 inches Acrylic on canvas 2017 $6,500.00

13. I’m Fine Here 16 x 16 inches Acrylic on board 2017 $975.00

14. Time 16 x 16 inches Acrylic on board 2016 $975.00

15. The Weather 20 x 16 inches Acrylic on board 2017 $1,200.00

16. Wish You Were 18 x 14 inches Acrylic on board 2017 $1,800.00

17. The Beautiful You 20 x 16 inches Acrylic on board 2017 $1,200.00

18. You Are Fine 12 x 12 inches Acrylic on board 2017 $700.00

19. You Were There 6 x 6 inches Acrylic on board 2017 $400.00

20. A Great Time 30 x 30 inches Acrylic on board 2017 $3,500.00

Wish You Were Here New works referenced by both Instagram and reality

Can you recall the last time you found a postcard in your mailbox? It wasn't so long ago that postcards were the way we let family and friends know we were enjoying an enviable experience in some exotic locale. It's been a while since I received a postcard in the mail, and I expect it has been for you as well. Mobile phones and their ability to document any moment, at any time, has relegated postcards to the dustbin of history. Our phones allow us to immortalize our special moments with selfies or epic shots of the fabulous places we visit. We download those images into our social media platforms, and share our lives openly with the world. Handwriting a note, sticking on a stamp, and slipping it in mailbox requires a great deal more effort than posting your vacation photos on Instagram. But there is still something meaningful about sending, and receiving that one perfect postcard with that special someone in your life. Finding a postcard in your mailbox creates a secondary experience. You’re touching the same image that the sender once held when they were thinking about you. It becomes a moment of contact, a transitory exchange of energy between two people. During the 80’s I experienced one of those moments. A series of anonymous postcards began to arrive in my mailbox. The messages were brief --"Hi Dave, how are you? I'm fine. Having a great time. The weather is beautiful. Wish you were here! Luv, your pal from London." A couple weeks later another one would arrive, with the exact same wording, but this time from some other location -Scotland, followed by Vienna -- in a trail of mysterious missives. It was a strange, yet curious experience to know that someone was thinking about me as they wandered through Europe. I never discovered who sent these postcards, but I think about them still.

The sentiment "wish you were here," always struck me as a little odd. I had no idea who was "wishing" this, so it was hard to share the feeling. As a result, my fascination focused on the postcards themselves, and the drifting quality of anonymity, and randomness that connected to something deeper and more ineffable. Postcards and the memories we attach to them are a means of capturing time and emotion, and passing it to someone else, far away. There is an attendant sadness, a sweetly mournful quality to this act. I certainly gave the mysterious sender of those cryptic notes a good deal of thought. The experience forged a tangible connection to a period in time, encapsulated in the images and words. All of which takes me back to Instagram and its ability to connect you to a seemingly unlimited number of visual experiences. Spend some time on Instagram, and you fall down a virtual rabbit hole, worlds within worlds, all carefully curated, and managed. It allows you to anonymously explore the world through someone else's eyes. This constructed, almost esoteric reality portrays a world in which we all live and partake in. It is accessible, and tied together with the cord of human experience. But in all of this abundance, there is something missing. Every so often an image in Instagram will draw me, and my mind drifts back to the postcards I once received. Tied intimately to the real world, with its tactility, and material weight, these humble, fragile objects provide a point of connection to the people that we know and love. No matter how far we roam, they call us home again.