In Flanders Fields - Envelope Mail Art

This month marks the 100th anniversary of the beginning of World War I, or the Great War as it was called then.  I've been learning more about WWI since becoming obsessed with poppies, which are an enduring symbol of the war.  From what I've read, the red poppies grew naturally in the battlefields of northern France and Belgium, sprouting among the graves of the fallen soldiers.  After the 1915 poem In Flanders Fields by Canadian soldier John McCrae, the flowers became forever tied to the war.

Front of the envelope

My main interest in poppies is much more aesthetic:  I'm simply in love with their crepe-paper petals and funky pods.  And if you've been reading my blog for more than a few months, you know that I've been painting poppies, and planting poppies, and otherwise mooning over poppies like a woman mooning over her first love.  So for this month's altered envie exchange I just had to use...poppies!

Address side of the envelope

I did a loose watercolor and ink painting of poppies and foliage on a piece of watercolor paper.  After cutting and folding my painting to form an envelope, I adhered a photograph of some WWI soldiers from a penny postcard I bought at an antique shop.  Among the poppies I wrote the beginning lines to John McCrae's poem.  I've included the complete poem at the end of this post in case you've never read it.  I think it's magnificent.

Close up of the front

Thanks for stopping by!  Have a great day.

Supplies:
Strathmore 140 lb watercolor paper; Schmincke Horadam watercolor paints; Faber Castell black PITT artist pen; medium charcoal pencil.

In Flanders Fields

John McCrae

In Flanders fields the poppies blow

Between the crosses, row by row,

That mark our place; and in the sky

The larks, still bravely singing, fly

Scarce heard among the guns below.

We are the dead. Short days ago

We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,

Loved, and were loved, and now we lie

In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe;

To you from failing hands we throw

The torch; be yours to hold it high.

If ye break faith with us who die

We shall not sleep, though poppies grow

In Flanders fields.