Imagine this: an artist, quietly waking up each day, preparing his morning coffee, the sun gently filling the room. There’s a moment of stillness before he leans over his worktable, selects a postcard, and stamps it with the exact time he woke up. He smiles—satisfied—knowing that he’s about to send one more of these intimate artifacts to his friends. This simple ritual is not only the foundation of On Kawara's famous "I Got Up" series, but also a meditation on life itself.
A Ritual of Presence and Connection
The "I Got Up" series, spanning from 1968 to 1979, involved Kawara sending two postcards each day to friends and acquaintances. The postcards would bear the simple message, "I GOT UP AT," followed by the exact time he awoke that morning. Alongside this, each card carried an image—a scene from the city he was in, a famous monument, or a glimpse of local culture. Together, the postcards charted his existence across time and place, connecting his personal life to his surroundings in a uniquely beautiful way.
For over a decade, this act became Kawara's daily ritual, transforming a mundane aspect of existence—the time he woke up—into an intentional act of creation. This wasn't just about marking the time of day. It was about showing up for life, being present, and sharing that presence with the people he cared about. Each postcard, arriving in a friend’s mailbox, was a whisper from Kawara—a reminder of his aliveness and a connection across miles.
The Selection of Postcards: A Deliberate Choice
But there’s more to these postcards than just the time of waking. Imagine being one of Kawara’s friends, receiving these cards consistently. You’d find yourself looking at carefully chosen postcards—scenes that speak not only of a particular city but also of the artist's attention to his surroundings. Often, Kawara would send series of postcards with different angles of the same landmark or varied views of the same scene. This curated selection tells us that he wasn’t merely buying the first card he found. There was intention, narrative, and purpose behind each choice.
By picking specific imagery, Kawara added layers to the simple act of sharing his wake-up time. He was giving his friends more than just a timestamp—he was giving them a glimpse into his world, his travels, and his unique perspective. Whether it was a famous landmark captured from different sides or a street scene that gave a peek into his life at that moment, the postcards provided context, texture, and continuity to his existence.
Repetition, Ritual, and the Affirmation of Life
What makes "I Got Up" resonate so deeply is the sense of repetition and ritual. Kawara wasn't just recording his mornings. He was affirming his presence, day in and day out, through a deliberate, almost meditative act. Picture him waking up and reaching for the postcard, the soft click of the stamp hitting the card, the smell of the ink drying. Each moment was repeated, but never quite the same. It was about being present in that repetition—finding something worth affirming in the simple fact of waking up, one day after another.
There’s something profoundly beautiful in this approach. The ritual itself becomes a form of art—an art of living, of existing, of marking one's place in the world. In a way, this practice is almost universal: we all have those little rituals that define our mornings, that help us feel grounded. But by choosing to share this with others, Kawara elevated it into something more, a gesture that turned everyday life into an ongoing artistic dialogue with the people he cared about.
Presence and Absence in "I Got Up"
There’s a compelling duality in "I Got Up"—an interplay between presence and absence. On one hand, Kawara is sharing a deeply personal detail of his day: the moment he woke up. On the other hand, there is a deliberate absence. His postcards do not tell stories, do not carry emotions, do not offer any real conversation. They are fragments, carefully curated glimpses that say, "I am here," without elaborating. The personal is made impersonal, the intimate turned objective, and yet, it is in that very objective simplicity that a deeper connection is felt.
For the friends who received these postcards, it must have been a quietly reassuring presence in their lives—day after day, Kawara’s voice, reaching out across cities and countries, saying, "I am here, I exist, and I want you to know." The repetition of this gesture was a way to stay connected, to make his presence felt, even if indirectly.
Turning the Mundane into the Extraordinary
On Kawara’s "I Got Up" is a powerful reminder of the beauty that lies within our daily rituals. By marking his mornings with care, and sharing that simple moment with others, Kawara transformed something utterly mundane into something extraordinary. The act of selecting the perfect postcard, stamping it with the exact time of waking, and sending it off, day after day, is an intimate meditation on time, presence, and the art of living.
We can imagine Kawara finding joy in this simple act—taking satisfaction in carefully stamping another day into existence. It wasn’t about grandeur or spectacle. It was about showing up, about being present, about making art out of life itself. This small act—sending a postcard—was a profound declaration of being, of finding value in the quiet, repetitive moments that make up the fabric of our existence.
The Legacy of "I Got Up"
On Kawara’s work continues to inspire because it speaks to something universal—the desire to be seen, to be heard, and to share in the simple joys and routines of life. In an era where communication is instant, and messages are often fleeting, the care and deliberateness of Kawara’s postcards remind us of the power of slowing down, of truly being present in each moment.
The "I Got Up" series is more than just an art project. It's a reflection on how the ordinary can be extraordinary when approached with intention, how the simplest actions—done with care and shared with others—can create lasting, meaningful connections. It’s a call to appreciate the rituals in our own lives, to find beauty in the repetition, and to see our daily routines not as mundane, but as moments of grace, art, and affirmation.
Next time you wake up, take a moment to think of On Kawara—a man waking up, making his coffee, smiling as he selects a postcard, and quietly, joyfully stamping another day into existence. It’s a small act, but it’s one filled with purpose, meaning, and the quiet beauty of simply being alive.
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