I'm not sure if I am meant to read the words below the drawing on this envelope. As it happened, the mail graffiti has printed over the words making them impossible to read now. I suspect it is asemic writing and part of Ted's poetry. The image is also enigmatic but, enticing! I haven't met Ted Trager before. I notice the restrained colours and appreciate the typewriting. When I turn the envelope over I learn how Ted found me:I am well, Ted. I am a little slow responding to mail art these days, and even slower sending it out but I appreciate every piece I get and archive them all in my big mail art collection. I record all my incoming and outgoing mail in my postal ledger and eventually reply to everyone.
I don't know enough baout ted to put these images in context but notice that each of the four quadrants works as a strong image on its own. It reads as an album cover. Punky Jazz, maybe? The red suggests protest to me and the horn must be playing something sad.
On the back, I find another visual poem. Like making marks with charcoal, I see rhythms of lights and darks and notice the ls, os and js, stroking the white paper.
I can almost see the character of the person who wrote this. Some day, when I have time to settle down in my armchair, I will try to unpick the exact words in this example from the POG archive for now, I will just delight in the exclamation marks.
Thank you Ted.
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