Of Arts and of Letters

Today I had the immense joy of rediscovering the beauty, and I would argue the art, of letter writing. In my experience, there is something deeply alienating about modern communication: the more connected we are through the Internet and social media, the more isolating and superficial our relationships seem to become. With a letter, there is a personal quality that transcends the content. It is something ineffable: something that lies not in the lines on the page but in the very page itself. The tactile experience of receiving a letter, seemingly so insignificant and ordinary, has the power to collapse 1,200 miles into something I can hold in my hand. 

Not only does a letter serve as a physical bridge between friends separated by great distance, it also serves as a lasting representation of the time, affection, thought, and sentiments of its author toward its recipient. In this representation and manifestation of something higher and outside itself, the once simple piece of paper becomes imbued with the artistic vision. It is no longer a piece of paper, it is a work of art. It is the medium through which one intellect quite literally communicates an idea to another intellect, but the multifaceted nature of that idea is brought to richer fruition by the physicality of the medium. A letter from a lover to his beloved, from a mother to her child, or from one friend to another, carries within it all the tenderness and immediacy of their relationship because it is a physical symbol of the unity of two persons. 

But couldn't the same thing be said about any form of written communication? I argue, no. The blog post you are reading, though it is written with affection for each of you and in the hope of offering some insight into my life and ruminations here in Minneapolis, remains impersonal because it does not breach the barrier of the physical. I mean in no way to cast aspersions on the forms of modern communication we all use everyday: they each, for the most part, have their uses and their values, and I will readily admit that I prefer texting when making plans and that I would be lost without FaceTime to see my family (and most especially my dog). However, the convenience with which we can send texts or make a FaceTime call in a sense impedes true communication and connection. Yes, it is a technological marvel that we can speak in real time to someone on the other side of the world and even be looking at them through a camera while we are on the treadmill or at the grocery store. But how much more meaningful is it to intentionally set aside the time and the effort to compose a letter, with care toward both form and content, phrasing and penmanship, without the conveniences of spellcheck or auto-formatting? To pour one's quality time in a tactile entity encapsulates, in my opinion, the most substantial gesture of affection possible from a distance.