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Welcome to Back of the Napkin, musings from Serviette for the cultured world. For those who prefer their gratification instant, Serviette humbly presents the case for taking the scenic route.
In our seemingly endless pursuit to streamline whatever and whenever possible, we unwittingly sacrifice more than we realize. Often, areas of friction are features rather than bugs, sites ripe for discussion, community, and discovery. One such case that has charmed Serviette as of late: the static crackle of a radio and the written confirmation that its signal is working.
What’s that sound? Might we suggest tuning your radios back to the 1920s, when early broadcasting was just taking form. At this stage, if a listener’s radio set was able to successfully receive a signal from a distant broadcasting station, it was a source of pride. It was, after all, a sort of teleportation, a mythical means of being in two places at once. It wasn’t enough to merely experience it in isolation—many wanted proof. Enter the QSL card, already in use among amateur radio operators before the broadcasting boom.
As listeners began writing to broadcast stations to receive physical confirmation of their radio’s success, QSL cards became a sort of currency. The cards were postcards, in essence, a seal of approval sent out by broadcasting stations to officially acknowledge listeners’ reception reports. However, what began as a simple mode of verification soon became a means of expression.
Despite the cards’ humble origins, they became a fixture within the existing community of amateur radio hobbyists, with operators exchanging cards in order to confirm a two-way contact. While some were sparse and minimalist, others were highly stylized and individualized; they became a sort of calling card for ham radio operators, a way of conferring their individual tastes and aesthetic sensibilities to fellow enthusiasts on a humble canvas typically measuring 3.5 x 5.5 inches. Unsurprisingly, many became collectors, gathering and immortalizing hundreds of the otherwise ephemeral works of art. To this day, the collections—and the practice of exchanging cards—persist. (Serviette highly recommends QSL Cards from Japan, QSL cards from U.S.A., and QSL cards from around the world for your extended perusal.)
The cards are reminders of a tradition in which a radio contact could be immediate, but its written confirmation arrived by post, long before social media bios became a means of self-definition. When messaging from brands, colleagues, and even friends is immediate, how much space remains for real connection?
Consider this week’s newsletter your impetus to create a calling card of your very own, whether it be scented or otherwise. We thank you for taking the time to stop and meander—be sure to forward this dispatch along to any friends who may be encouraged to join you in going against the current.