This Week
This piece is by one of my oldest New York friends, Emily Ciavatta. She was the first person I asked to be part of the zine that became my snail mail club because she inspires me endlessly with all the creative mediums she explores and the endless crafting she does, which has become some of my favorite art. The tangibility of all that she makes fills me with joy. I don’t see it very often anymore, which makes her work a pretty special thing. I admire her drive to nurture every interest and idea she has; most importantly, I loved the piece she wrote. It encapsulates perfectly what I want From My Search Bar to be: a look at our inner obsessions and passions. All these photos and collages are things she’s done, which only scratches the surface of what she is capable of. I love it, and I hope you do too.
In the days of iTunes and LimeWire, when my music taste was developing into whatever the fuck it is now, I made a playlist. It still exists, albeit on a streaming platform, but it’s there – and it’s called this week.
There were probably about fifty or so songs on it initially; I added a little cloud icon next to the name and put my favorite songs from that week on it. I wish I could remember what they were – probably stuff from the likes of bad pop punk bands and 2000’s one-hit wonders. That music still has a time and place, like long drives or drunk karaoke with friends and strangers, or whenever else.
Now, this week has become a theme of sorts in my life. I update the playlist on Mondays (for the most part) and it usually has anywhere from 90 to 150 songs on it. It’s pretty much the only thing I listen to, a true disservice to myself since I end up neglecting so many other playlists, albums and artists. But to be frank, nothing hits quite like listening to my favorite songs over and over again until I hate them.
Eventually this week became more than just a playlist. In 2019, I started making art for what felt like the first time ever. Bad art, but still art. I got a film camera for Christmas, compliments of my ex-girlfriend, and as soon as the new year hit I developed my greatest vice: buying film. Shooting film was an expensive hobby but one that brought me joy. I took that camera everywhere. Sometimes, I still do.
Soon, my bad art endeavors expanded. The pandemic hit and I became a self-proclaimed hobbyist. I started collaging, I carved stamps. I wrote bad prose in my journal, picked up the bass, sang like my life depended on it and tried just about every medium under the sun. Many of them stuck, others didn’t, but bad art in general has remained a constant side quest of mine for the better part of my 20s.
I tried to take it places; I shot for brands and influencers when my inquiries got responses. I participated in pop-up markets, made prints, cards and calendars for anyone who’d accept. I gave my last partner an oyster stamp for their 30th birthday. Regretfully so, but I made sure to snatch it back in the breakup. I just couldn’t bear the thought of it going unused. It was one of my best! But actually pretty bad. A good kind of bad, my kind of bad.
Though ultimately, my bad art was just a hobby. And I was okay with that. I still wanted to put it out there, even if it was going into the ether. I made an Instagram account called this week, to no one’s surprise, where I shared most of my projects (and still do). The playlist, an endless rotation of songs I daydreamt to, had grown to become the grand theme of my art and creativity. It represented my music taste, first and foremost, but also my eagerness to make things and my undying commitment to bad art. It was an embodiment of my earnestness. Who I was, who I’d be next. I liked that it followed me from high school – a mostly forgotten time, but one that was a catalyst for becoming who I wanted to be – to now.
But long before this week was ever conceptualized, I made analog playlists, which is just a fancy way of saying mixtapes. We didn’t really have aux cords or Bluetooth to use on long car rides, and the radio never played exactly what you wanted to hear. When your iPod died, the next-best-thing was the CD player. Once in every vehicle but now a delicacy, the always-there device was often the only option and the reason I went through the trouble of burning mixtapes. That and the sentiment, of course.
I wish I kept them from all those years ago. My parents are moving out of the only house I ever lived in until college, and I hope the packing will unearth some of those precious unmarked CDs.
Thankfully, I went back to my roots a few years ago and started collecting physical media. So even if I never see the mixtapes again, I have over 150 marked CDs to fill the void.
Somehow, it all goes back to the silly playlist I made in my bedroom sometime between the years of 2010 and 2014. All the art making, album listening, media collecting, and more. I even tattooed this week on one of my good friends. Probably the first and last tattoo I’ll ever give.
Some of my favorites from my CD collection:
Loner - Caroline Rose
One of the Boys - Katy Perry
Household Name - Momma
Fly - The Chicks
Siamese Dream - The Smashing Pumpkins
Is This It - The Strokes
Third Eye Blind self-titled
Rat Saw God - Wednesday
Twin Plagues - Wednesday
& many, many more
In an effort to keep snail mail not exclusive, here are some digital files of what was sent out to everyone who pays for a tangible version of my newsletter! This dispatch could not have been done without the help of my brother, Keil, for the stickers and Emily for the essay!
I have leftovers of a lot of the stuff I print. Please email me if you would like to buy a single edition of a snail mail package, or even just the postcard or sticker! I would hate for them to go to waste. My email is:
avawillyums@gmail.com
I am sharing the digital files in an archive on my website here
I am still learning and testing paper, so the postcard is a little thinner. This is not my favorite update. I also printed this myself, and so I am doing my best to figure out what works and what doesn’t. Sending it to print is quite expensive, so bear with me as I explore text-based printing. Something I am not used to!
Until next time!
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