In 2007, my friend—the great poet, playwright, activist, performance artist, Luis Alfaro –went to Hartford Stage in Connecticut for a 3-month residency. As a way of helping him feel less lonely all the way across the country, I decided to create a mail art project for him. We both enjoy spending time in restaurants, so from May-August, I sent him a napkin from every restaurant/café I went to (often more than one each day). On each napkin I wrote the date, a weather report, name of the restaurant, what I ordered, and usually some other brief message. Sometimes I included another little souvenir. I sent napkins from Los Angeles, Reno, NV., Portland, OR., and the South of France. In all that time, I never heard from Luis. And yet, I became more obsessed with the project, Luis was the muse. And I grappled with the existential dilemma of sending things into what seemed like a void. What was I doing, and why? I kept a log of each napkin and envelope, and started photographing them several weeks in.
Finally, after giving up on any response, on August 17th, I received a FedEx package. It was from Luis, and it contained a letter printed in almost microscopic type, along with a magnifying glass, and several cards from various Hartford restaurants. It was a masterpiece of literary correspondence, telling the story of how he received the napkins: As it happened, there was a temp working in the office who, for some reason, did not give Luis the mail, but instead, collected all of the envelopes in a box. When the regular employee returned, they found the box, and gave it to Luis, who then opened all the envelopes, in random order, just before his residency was over. A surprise for both of us.
I sent a total of 92 napkins to Luis between May 29th and August 19th, 2007.
