The lost art of letter writing

I found a most wonderful website.
Its called http://www.lettersofnote.com/ and is, according to site Editor Shaun Usher, 'an attempt to gather and sort fascinating letters, postcards, telegrams, faxes, and memos.'

Last evening I spent two hours filing through pages and pages of them.
It made me sad that the art of letter writing is disappearing and it filled me with such heady, refreshing joy that something like this exists in the world. I think you should check it out.

The below is from the website. I almost wept reading it.

On August 5th of 1962, 36-year-old Marilyn Monroe was found dead at her home. The next day, the following unsent and seemingly unfinished letter, addressed to ex-husband Joe DiMaggio, was discovered at her desk, folded up in her address book. It is thought they were planning to remarry.


Dear Joe,

If I can only succeed in making you happy — I will have succeeded in the bigest and most difficult thing there is — that is to make one person completely happy. Your happiness means my happiness.

Filled with Empty

Its about sitting incredibly still when situations feel overwhelming and trying to get your head around the things that you perceive are standing in the way of what you could achieve. It is about love. It is about being consumed.

Lo and the Beholds website launch

One of the 'best upcoming acts in London', Lo and the Beholds have launched their brand new website and it features one of my illustrations. Take a look at their site here
They sound like I imagine the baby of Madeleine Peyroux, Emmy the Great and Emmylou Harris to sound.
Love the music, love the illustration, love the design. I can't ask more than that.

If your heart was a unicorn

This poem should be read fast. At least thats the way I wrote it to be read. You should not stop for breaths. If this was a script from a Woody Allen film it would come near the end when Woody (the neurotic, insecure lead) would realise that the only way he can win over his love interest (no doubt played by Diane Keaton) is to lay everything out without thinking or editting himself-she needs to know all of him. I’ve been told I do a good impression of Woody Allen, now its seems to have spilled over into the words I write. (transcript below)

'if your heart was made of clay' i shout
'then i would wrap my hands around it and form it into
something else
something new.'

'Like a unicorn.
Unicorns never made anybody unhappy.
and they're made of glitter
and I'm sure they can grant wishes like genies
and ladies who sit on ends of piers
in headscarves
and dresses with beaded fringes
and floral prints.'

'I wish it was a thousand unicorns that would stampede and burst through your chest like that part in The Lion King that I can't watch cos Mufasa dies and it doesn't matter that Simba becomes King at the end and marries Nala and has babies because Mufasa is still dead.

I don't want to die though.'

'and now theres a hole in your chest from the aftermath of the stampede and I would put my hand inside and it would be the first time I got to go inside fully and my hand would be there and you'd smile and I would smile and the clay heart unicorns would be running free through clay heart forests on some new course and music would play amongst clay heart sticks and all the other clay heart animals that had been freed before by someone else.'

'But your heart isn't a unicorn.
Its not even a horse.'

I want only great things

It is everything I want to say but never can. It is a love poem. It is a dedication. It is a physical reminder that there is light somehow, always.

 

Living without Parallels

This week my first solo edition of 'The Inside Thoughts of Now' appeared in Creature Mag. Its about feeling like you are on the outside of things. Its about the moment you realise that reality will inevitably not match up to the fantasy you have in your head and its about being alone.
Having complete control over the work I was creating was immensely satisfying and being able to introduce the sorts of images I make was an utter thrill. I will be continuing with my solo pieces for CreatureMag fortnightly in hopes that you will come to completely know all of me. This is a fine place to start.

Paper Shell

My latest poem for Creaturemag is called ‘Paper Shell’. Its about saying goodbye and trying all you can do to hold onto some element of something that isn’t there anymore. Its about love. Its about endings and its about dealing with what is inevitable.
It is the final collaboration between me and illustrator Steven Jarvis but I will continue working with Creature Mag with a brand new format. I will be in control of both the words and the illustrations and I am very excited about the possibility of what I am now able to create.


I will lay paper on the ground
and draw lines around your shadow as you go
so that when you're gone I will have something to look at
and a part of you will have stayed.

The outline of your body,
now pinned to my wall,
will have to be enough
because your inside was clogged with
a truth that was not my own
and I never saw all of you.

I will take coloured pencils and fill the paper shell with yellow lines
each one starting at your heart
and ending where the pages stop.
I would have breathed light through your lips
if you hadn't gone
but staying was beyond us both.

It would be easier to believe

Here's my latest poem for CreatureMag
Lots of trying things have happened to both me and those around me in the last month or so which has led to a lot of talk about free will and whether or not God exists. It has also encouraged discussion about ones own strength and ability to overcome trials and whether this would be easier to do if you believed that a higher power had a hand in the things you experienced.


It would be easier to believe,
because life is fact
and ease is hard to come by.
My eyes aren't open and
I lay as today becomes something else to remember
and the world fills with yet more holes.
If I was certain that what I was looking for was more than wishful thinking
I would search around corners and up stairs
take journeys to places where water tastes different
and people smile for other reasons.
I would take chances on good
and sing songs in bustling streets.

For now I count seventeen penny coins in my hand
and throw them onto the ground.
Knowing that I changed the way the earth looks
and the distance closed a little
I continue forward,
and I continue to search,
because there is nothing else I know
and I want to be certain.

Rebel without a Cause-Finished

Here it is-my Ritzy Cinema 100 Poster competition entry.

Its taken FORTY HOURS to complete but I'm almost sure its worth it. No doubt this is exactly how James Dean hoped he would be remembered-I only wish I could be sure he'd like me.

Let me know what you think maybe-that could be nice.
 

 
For your reference, here is the original.

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