JOURNAL
documenting
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discovering joyful things
Mail-art: late harvest
Do you know that feeling when you think something is getting on top of you, but you don't have the courage to look too closely into it, because it might be even worse than you thought? Yep, that feeling. And then you do look...
Well, I took a deep breath and then took a close look on the weekend, and discovered that I owe more than 65 mail-art letters right now. Ugh. I'm so sorry everyone! I hand-make each piece of mail, including what goes into it, and each letter can take me many, many hours. But I hadn't realised I'd fallen so far behind.
For this reason, I have decided to temporarily disable the form that lets people request this kind of mail, until I've caught up on the letters I already owe.
If you subscribe to this blog and have requested handmade, painted mail from me, I promise you are not forgotten. I appreciate you being so patient with me! And if you're reading this blog and would LIKE mail but haven't requested it yet, I promise to put the form back up just as soon as I've caught up, and I'll let you know in a future blog post.
In the meantime, I thought it was time to share the fruits of my labour (see what I did there?) last week, being these five letters. The friends who requested them did so all the way back in March, which shows you just how behind I am in sending out my mail. I hope they still live in those places (!) and that they like their harvest-themed happy-mail, despite the delay.
54 letters, 22 countries
Estonia :: United States of America :: Singapore :: Scotland :: Italy :: Portugal :: Canada :: Indonesia :: Morocco :: United Kingdom :: Philippines :: Australia :: Japan :: Germany :: Norway :: The Netherlands :: Arab Republic of Egypt :: Mexico :: Malaysia :: Russia :: Vietnam :: France
I sent a tiny letter to each of these countries last week. To most, I sent more than one. Each and every envelope was sent with love, and it gave me such happiness to imagine the journeys these simple scraps of paper were about to take.
To anyone who says snail-mail is dead, just look at that list. Between sunrise and sunset on a single day, 54 people from 22 countries gave me - someone they don't know and have never met - their addresses, so that I could send them a little something in the mail. There would have been more, but I ran out of letters. Why did they do it? Because each of them knows this: a letter in the mail brings joy.
Also - and I can tell you this from personal experience - sending a letter brings joy, too.
Tangible texts
Yesterday I brought home a small, fat parcel from the post office. It had Mr B's name on it but upon opening it, he handed it across to me, saying, "This is for you."
He'd ordered for me a stack of late-Victorian postcards, all used and most of them still carrying their stamps. We spent the evening looking over the wonderful illustrations, reading through the spidery, handwritten messages, and marvelling at how far these postcards had travelled in distance and in time. The connections they represented.
"Your cat is OK," one of the writers said, "sleeping every day in the sun." Others spoke of holidays, of family, of the weather ("How do you like this snow and weather we are having? I haven't had a sleigh ride since Christmas...").
But what really struck us was how little was said on several of the postcards.
Sometimes, people simply wanted to say "I'm thinking of you," and a postcard was the best way to say it. Postcards were the late-19th and early-20th Century versions of SMS: simple words that reinforced "You are loved," or maybe, simply, "You are not forgotten."
In the backlash against the cold, digital, instantaneous messaging of today, there is often a whole lot more weight given to those who write a lengthy letter. And I love a good epistolary chat as much as the next person. But sometimes I don't have time to write a long, newsy letter. Sometimes I just want someone I care about to know that they are on my mind and in my heart. Likewise, when the people who love me are busy it is still nice to know they are thinking of me, even if they don't have time to sit down and write five pages about their lives.
I think the fact that I hold these tangible texts in my hands today is a testament to the reality that our words have power. Because a simple "Thinking of you" can mean so much to someone that they hold onto it until they day they die.
∇∇ "From a friend guess who"
∇∇ "All is O.K."
∇∇ "Wish you many Happy Birthdays"
∇∇ "Faithfully"
∇∇ "From your sincere friend"
Tiny letters
I've made something for you! Tiny handmade envelopes, created from the delicate, antique, tissue-paper that separated each of the old postcards I set free a few weeks ago.
I kept the tissue when I posted the 100-year-old cards, and traced, hand-cut and pasted each individual piece into a miniature envelope.
What better words to place inside a tiny envelope than a tiny poem, so I copied haikus and senryus onto tiny pieces of paper, then slipped one into each envelope, and sealed it with wax.
Would you like to receive your own tiny poem in a tiny envelope, handmade out of antique tissue, in the mail?
I made 54 tiny letters and I am happy to send them to you anywhere in the world. What will your poem say? Will it speak to something you know, an ah-ha moment that reminds you that you belong in this world? Will it trigger an old memory? A sweet memory? Bittersweet? Or maybe it will simply be a bold imagining, taking you somewhere, or some-when, you have never been.
If you'd like to receive a tiny letter in the mail with a mystery haiku, share your address using the form below and I'll post it to you straight away. As I promised with the postcards, I'm happy to send one to your friends and family too, if you want to send me their addresses.
The mail will be sent on a first-come-first-sent basis, and I'll update this blog post when I've run out of tiny letters.
Yours sincerely, Naomi xo
UPDATE: 10pm Melbourne time, 17 June 2016 Thank you to everyone who responded to this fun postal project, I'll send out your tiny envelopes in the next couple of days. I hope you like them! I've run out of tiny envelopes for now but to anyone who missed out, feel free to subscribe to my blog to be among the first notified of any future mail-projects, and hit me up for some free mail-art while you're at it. Have a wonderful weekend!
Mail art: four assorted
I only have four mail-art packages to share this week. The cylindrical one at the bottom was quite a challenge to create and paint, but a lot of fun as well. Selise told me she loved marigolds, so I was determined to give it my best effort. Want to know what was inside? Cereal boxes!
Wish you were here
How would you like to receive a 100-year-old postcard in the mail?
I found several books of antique souvenir postcards at a market stall on the weekend. I kind of want to keep them because they are quite beautiful, however, call me sentimental but I also kind of want to give them flight.
So I have decided to do just that.
Postcards have always been created to travel the world through the post, carrying messages of surprise and thoughtfulness and silly stories and "wish you were here." That's their destiny. They shouldn't be hidden away in boxes or drawers, and these particular postcards have waited an entire century to be free.
Would you like one? I have 60 postcards, and I'm happy to send them to anyone, anywhere in the world. I might tell you a little story, share a moment from my life, or write a snippet of a poem. It'll be a surprise and, like the postcards themselves, each message will be different.
If you'd like to receive one of these lovely, old postcards in your letterbox, simply give me your address and I'll get writing. You can either do-so in the comments, or, if you'd prefer to keep your address private, use the form I've created below. I'll choose the postcards randomly, and send them out on a first-come, first-served basis. I'm happy to write to your friends and family too, if you want to send me their addresses.
I'll update this blog post to let you know when I've run out of postcards.
Yours sincerely, Naomi xo
UPDATE 25 May, 10pm: As of just now I have run out of postcards, so I have disabled the form and am sitting down to write the ones I promised. If you missed out, I'm sorry! I promise to host another project like this as soon as I can find more vintage postcards, so stay tuned. Meanwhile, I still send mail-art to subscribers of this blog, so if that is something that interests you, you can find more information and request mail here.
Painting this botanical series (more 
More mail-art from the old herbal
"My gardens sweet, enclosed with walles strong, embarked with benches to sytt and take my rest. The Knotts so enknotted, it cannot be exprest. With arbours and alys so pleasant and so dulce, the pestylant ayers with flavours to repulse." ~ Thomas Cavendish (1532)
(More botanical mail out here and here)
Mail-art from the old herbal
When I was a teenager I read this book by Mary Stewart, and became instantly fascinated by the world of herbs and the mysteries of folklore and medicine surrounding them. By day, I planted and tended a herb garden at our home. By night (by candlelight because we had no electricity) I studied reference books about herbalism.
When I had a pimple, I tried pressing the petal of a calendula flower to it to make the pimple disappear (no joy). When I had a headache, I made a tincture of feverfew and drank it (it tasted so disgusting that it definitely distracted me from the headache). I found some glycerine capsules at the local pharmacy and filled them with crushed herbs to 'medicate' members of my family when they were sick. Don't worry, I was smart enough to research which herbs were safe for consumption and in what manner, before I did all this. I just wasn't smart enough to speak to an actual herbalist, who might have been a little better at achieving the health and beauty results I hoped to achieve.
My favourite two books for discovering new herbs to plant were a small-and-simple guide called "The Pocket Encyclopedia of Herbs," alongside "Complete Herbal," which was written by Nicholas Culpeper in 1653. I love the descriptions and language in Culpeper. About borage, the herb at the top of this post, for example, he said "The leaves and roots are to very good purpose used in putrid fevers to defend the heart, and to resist and to expel the poison or venom of other creatures." Also, he assigned every herb a place in the astrological charts (borage is under Jupiter), and was sometimes (unintentionally) very funny.
And it's these books that bring us (finally! I can hear you cheering!) to the point of this post.
After having a lot of fun painting antique botanical prints for my mail-art recently, I have decided to extend the theme, and paint some of my old friends from these two books. On the back of the envelope, I've shared a tiny tidbit about the herb for the recipient's reading pleasure (or not). Something like this...
ΔΔ "Venus governs it. Ladies' mantle is very proper for inflamed wounds, and to stay bleeding, vomitings, fluxes of all sorts, bruises by falls, and ruptures: and such women or maids as have over great flagging breasts, causing them to grow less and hard..." Culpeper, 1653
ΔΔ "It is a strange coincidence that the leaves can be used for wiping fingers after eating crabs, to wipe away the smell. Crabs, chrysanthemums, wine and the moon are the four autumn joys of our scholars, artists and poets." Chiang Yee, The Silent Traveller in London
ΔΔ "The name of this herb conjures up biblical images of aromatic resins and healing oils... has a strange 'masculine' fragrance -- the kind of musky scent that gives depth to perfumes." The Pocket Encyclopedia of Herbs
ΔΔ "The leaves of mallows, and the roots boiled in wine and water, or in broth with parsley or fennel roots, open the body, and are very convenient in agues, or other distempers of the body, to apply the leaves warmed to the belly." Culpeper, 1653
Antique botanical mail-art
Ever since I created the wild strawberry mail-art for my Secret Pen Pal Scavenger Hunt pen-pal, Corey, I've been majorly drawn to painting antique botanical-style mail-art. I had more fun with this series than I have had in a long time. The only problem being the photographs: it would appear that I had too much coffee the morning I took them, because some of these pictures are inexcusably blurry. I didn't even notice until I came to edit them and by that time, the letters were well on their journeys around the world, so there was no way of re-taking the photographs. Anyway if you can overlook the bad photography, here's the mail.
ps. If you'd like to see the contents of my mail to my secret pen-pal, she has created a beautiful blog-post about it here. (Oh my gosh I'm so embarrassed about that revolting black bag-of-horrors that before it left Melbourne contained pretty, pressed flowers from my garden. Note to self: don't send organics in the mail in summer).
ps. have you heard about my new letter-writing and mail-art e-course?
Over four weeks, I will guide you through multiple methods of making beautiful mail-art and creative, handmade stationery; teach you the art of writing and storytelling; help you forge personal connections in your letters and find pen-pals if you want them; and share time-management tips so even the busiest people can enjoy sending and receiving letters. Register your place or find out more information right here.