Why I Blame the 90s for My Weirdly Sized Miniature Art
I’m dipping my toes into the miniature art-for-sale waters, but if you look closely at my tiny paintings, you’ll notice something strange. They aren’t the standard 2.5" x 3.5".
They might be 2.5" x 4". If I’m feeling chaotic, they might be 3" x 3".
There’s a very specific and slightly stubborn reason for that extra half-inch. It all goes back to the dark ages of the internet.
The Golden Rule of the ATC
Way back when—not quite the dawn of Mail Art, but exactly when it started growing exponentially online—I was deep in the Artist Trading Card (ATC) community. (Any old-school internet folks remember Nervousness? Anyone? Bueller?)
It was a rich, vibrant, and vital ecosystem of global creatives. We had exactly one sacred, unshakeable rule: The cards had to be 2.5" x 3.5" and they HAD to be traded. Never sold.
It was entirely about the give and take. The pure freewill and sharing of art.
Enter the ACEO (and the Elder Scoff)
Fast forward to the early Oughts. Someone decided that trading wasn’t enough and wanted to start selling their cards. Thus, the ACEO (Art Cards, Editions and Originals) was born. Same size, but with a price tag.
As ATC elders, we scoffed. How dare they?! It felt like a capitalistic glitch in a beautifully pure system.
Breaking the Rules to Keep the Spirit
Almost thirty years later, that purist instinct still rankles a little bit. To my hands and my brain, 2.5" x 3.5" will always belong to the spirit of the trade.
So, as I begin offering my own miniature portraits for sale, I’m changing the format. By stretching the boundaries to 2.5" x 4", I’m drawing a line between the past and the present. It’s my nod of respect to the old guard.
But make no mistake: whether my cards are traded or sold, every single square inch is still entirely imbued with the love, chaotic energy, and community spirit of those early Mail Art days.