Mail art - my strange imagination

There are no themes to this latest batch of mail-art, only the bizarre vagaries of my imagination. For example, that tent with the big moon and the undergarments hanging outside: what even, Naomi? I have no idea what I was thinking, but I hope Emily liked it anyway. 

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. 

Mail-art: picturing kindness

With everything going on in the world towards the end of last year, I got to thinking about kindness, and what it meant. Why did some people seem to have it in spades, while others could act with such coldness, such brutality, that surely all compassion, all empathy, must have been clinically removed from their souls? I find cruelty - not angry passion but callous cruelty - truly incomprehensible. 

In all this thinking, I started to wonder what "kindness" meant to people. Because I'm fairly sure that, aside from genuine psychopaths, the people who I believed were speaking or doing things of utmost horror probably believed that they were actually good people, at least some of the time. They are not all villains, retreating to their lairs and laughing "BWAHAHA" every time they commit an atrocity. Somewhere along the line, these human beings have either justified their actions due to their beliefs, or have become immune to the suffering of others, because the mind is frighteningly good at self preservation (and nobody wants to admit to themselves "I am evil.").

I refuse to believe that that people are black to the core. Small-minded, intolerant, cruel, yes. But maybe not evil through and through? I don't know. I hope not. If you think terrible things cannot be done within the pretext of noble intentions, just ask any religious extremist, ever. 

Where is the kindness in all this? How can a man murder in the morning and let the dog sleep on his lap in the evening? Torture someone one day, and buy his mother fudge the next? Show hatred to an entire race of human beings, but love his children? 

Mail-art isn't going to solve any global or existential problems just yet, but this was all at the front of my mind as I was painting these envelopes, so I decided to follow it through. I did a Google image-search on the word "kindness" to see what other people saw in their minds when they heard that word. These envelopes are my interpretations of some of the images at the top of that search. 

What does kindness look like to you? What would you draw, if you got "kindness" in a game of Pictionary? 

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. 

Quick reminder

Just a quick note to remind you that my Snail Mail Toolkit newsletter will land in folks' inboxes tonight. I've created the envelope template above, plus another, and will share them as printable downloads along with tips on how to personalise them and turn them into mail-art, writing prompts, and some other fun and useful snail-mail links. If this sounds like something you'd like and you haven't yet signed up to receive my emails, there's still time and you can do it here. 

Summer mail-art

The past month was ridiculously busy, as December usually is for most of us. In the midst of it all, I found just a little bit of time for mail-art, including a stack of envelopes made out of Christmas carol sheet-music, and one book with an address and stamps on the front cover. There will be more coming soon! 

ps. Do you know about my Snail Mail Toolkit e-newsletter? I have been busy creating templates that you can personalise into your own mail-art, which I send out in a monthly email. The next email will go out this Wednesday night, so if this sounds like something you'd like to try, you can sign up to receive the emails here. I'm currently also sending a free copy of my e-book Making Mail to everyone who joins up. 

Lost for words

These nifty Correspondence Cards take postcards and "thinking of you" to the next level. When you want to reach out to someone by snail mail but you don't really know what to say, they'll do it for you! With sweet and funny little choose-your-own comment prompts, you simply tick the box that is most relevant.

Such as... 

I'm: distracted / well / a superhero / lost / drinking tea

This place is: beautiful / smelly / prickly / peaceful / interesting 

I've been: mugged / knighted / fishing / studying / adventuring 

Please: write back / dream of me / send money / feed my cat / take care  

And so on. The comments side of the card is illustrated with a lovely photograph originally captured on 35mm analogue film, and the back simply contains lines for the address, and space for a stamp.  

Tell me: would you use these? I think they are fun and pretty, and a postcard like this would put a huge grin on my face if it arrived in my letterbox (unless of course the person had ticked that they were lost and had been mugged), so I'm going to assume others might feel the same. 

I spend a lot of time writing to strangers to bring a moment of happy surprise to their days, which is something I love to do. But sometimes that means I neglect to write to the people in my life who are nearest and dearest. I feel like these cards are best suited to someone who already knows me (and appreciates my sense of humour), so that's where mine will be headed. 

Right now I have a box of 10 of these cards, sent as a gift from Brenner of Boots Paper, and I am itching to use them.

This all happened after I ordered some new notepads from Brenner, because I was running out of resources to write to you all. Her shop Boots Paper appealed to me because the notepads were not only beautifully-illustrated and lovely to hold (good quality recycled paper), she also donated a percentage of profits to conservation charities.

After I placed my order, Brenner found me on Instagram and reached out to say hello (this is her), and to celebrate the snail-mail joy that she and I have both spreading in our own ways. The following week, the most incredible box of stationery goods arrived in my letterbox as a gift from Brenner, and you can see it all here. She left a little note: "For all the stationery love you put out there, I wanted to give some back." 

It was an act of extraordinary generosity and kindness, and I intend to repay it by sending these gorgeous Boots Paper creations far and wide, as I write to each of you all over the world. 

ps. Have you signed up to receive my monthly mail-art template emails yet? They're free, and the first one will arrive in your Inbox about mid-January. Sign up here

I'm ready to send you mail again!

I have a little Christmas present for you, my friends. Actually, I have more than one to give! 

You may remember that I used to send letters to people who subscribed to this blog, to say thank you to them for reading. I had to suspend that in July this year, when I discovered I was more than 60 letters behind in all the mail I owed. It was overwhelming, and I felt terrible for being so slow. 

But here we are a week before Christmas, and I'm all caught up. If you subscribe to this blog and you haven't already requested this mail from me, I invite you to share your address now. The sign-up form is here and I look forward to making mail for you.

UPDATE 7 Feb 2017: Aah I'm so sorry. I've been making mail as fast as I can but you guys are KEEN (I do love that!) and, as fast as I've been going, there are now 123 people on the waiting list. So I've had to disable the form again while I catch up. Again. Watch this space. 

I mentioned I have some other presents to give. While things have been quiet on this blog of late, I haven't forgotten you, and I've been working away behind the scenes to develop some resources that I hope you might enjoy. 

The first is a free monthly newsletter that will launch mid-January. Short on words but big on inspiration, it will contain an original artwork every month, that you can print out and customise into your own mail-art.  

The second is my new e-book, Making Mail. This is a 10-part guide to writing letters that will become keepsakes, by writing entertaining missives that look beautiful, survive their journeys, and make the recipients feel special. This book is free when you subscribe to my newsletter. 

I really hope you enjoy all of these gifts, and I want to thank you for sticking with me as I've developed all these resources in the background. I'm looking forward to bringing you more inspiring, uplifting, funny and creative content in the New Year, and wish you every happiness for this festive season. 

Love, Naomi 

The pop-up letter shop

This is the best idea I've heard of in a long time. In Seattle, USA, a woman named Rachel Weil has launched a snail-mail truck, known as The Letter Farmer. Like a food truck, you know, but serving up food for the soul (awwwww).

She has fitted out a beautiful, red truck with all kinds of carefully selected stationery supplies - pens, paper, cards, stamps, even sealing wax, and hits the road every day. Wherever she stops, she sets up some tables and chairs outside, provides free postcards (and postage!), and invites people to start writing. She keeps a stack of prompts - people to write to and things to write - for those who are stuck.

When they're done, folks can even pop their missives into the post box attached to her truck.

Rachel says, "Sharing the narrative of our life through pen and paper as they meet and the nuances of our handwriting, paper selection and an envelope is addressed, stamped and mailed is priceless and timeless. Letters can be reread over and over, giving us the opportunity to have voices of our past speak again. Holding and touching something that someone who is either no longer with us or geographically far away is a way that we can feel physical connection with that person."

Can you imagine how fantastic this would be in your city, turning up at parks and carnivals and open spaces? How perfectly would it fit in at a food-truck festival! The Letter Farmer would be my dream business, except that I never have managed to master the art of hook turns in Melbourne. Maybe Australia Post could launch a fleet of these mobile shops, and bring their business to the people...

Here's an article about The Letter Farmer in the Seattle Times

Image credit: all photographs are from The Letter Farmer website

Snail-mail: outgoing lately

I've been quiet on here but loud on life lately. Thanks for sticking around! The photo at the top of this page is of a stack of antique (100 years old or more) birthday-themed postcards I sent out to folks on Instagram, to help celebrate my own birthday last week. Here's some of the other mail I've posted during the past couple of weeks...

∧∧ This great big stack of letters and aerogrammes

∧∧ Putting Australia Post's flower stamps into a vase

∧∧ I was painting King Kong mail and my daughter begged me, "Make him gold?" So.

∧∧ Dear Australia Post: I am probably your biggest fan and definitely one of your biggest customers, but sending parcels overseas is getting ridiculously expensive. Thankfully, pretty stamps for the win. (Personal budget for the loss)

∧∧ Herbal mail-art for an aromatherapist

∧∧ A little bluebird carrying a message to Estonia

∧∧ All those herbs and flowers I've been painting... I thought it was about time to try my hand at some Australian natives

∧∧ This was my attempt at a four-seasons envelope: summer, autumn, winter, spring. Winter was tricky: the white gouache paint I used for the snow-flakes kind of melted into the envelope and turned out more blobby than bright. Onwards and upwards

∧∧ I planted ranunculus corms in my garden in May, and to my delight (and surprise, if I'm honest), they actually grew, and are blooming in abundance

That's all, folks!

Mail art - prehistoric post

We cut our way through a tangle of vines, each one thicker than a man's arm. Heat prickled our skin. The air was humid, tropical, and thick with floral perfume: something like frangipani, with a less-pleasant undertone of... what was that? Sulphur?

When at last we pushed aside the final curtain of vines, we could barely believe the evidence of our eyes. A volcano, forcing its way up out of the ocean, and, around it, a flock of pterodactyls carrying mail bags.

We had discovered it at last: the lost island of the Prehistoric Post Offie.

Mail art - prickly post

Yawwwwwn. I was up until 1am last night making mail-art gifts for some friends. Those parcels (three of them) are not pictured here, because there wasn't any natural light in which to photograph them once I'd finished, and Mr B took them off to post when he left for work at five o'clock this morning. We are a sleepless family!

After two weeks of viruses rolling through our family, taking us down one at a time and working through each of us and then having the audacity to try and start all over again... after two weeks of being more up at night than down, and washing more sheets and towels and little pyjamas than I ever thought it was possible to wash, this weekend finally offered the hope of a reprieve. Nobody was ill, everybody kept down their meals, and we managed to wash and dry and fold and put away the mountain of laundry that had become so big that at one point we entirely lost sight of our couch.

Free from family sickness (but in my weakened, possibly hallucinatory state haha), I began noticing things around me again, especially in my little garden.

All too often, I have failed to give spring the love it deserves, the love almost the entire rest of the world gives it. It's not spring's fault that it is the harbinger of the harsh Australian summer, that's just the order of things, after all. But this year, for the first time since high school, I have a garden again. And that makes all the difference.

In the minutia of my tiny garden, I watch the seasons come in and out with new eyes and new appreciation. The ancient turning of planets and sun and growth and death, all played out in miniature in my little garden: a living diorama, kept alive by the clockwork mechanics of Nature and Time churning silently but relentlessly outside the four tall walls of my green little oasis.

And I, peering in, stepping in, and watching.

* The sage bush has grown at least 10 centimetres since last weekend, in the heady potion of warmer weather earlier in the week followed by soaking rains later on

* There was a honeyeater in the Chinese Lantern tree. We never see honeyeaters in the city! Also, on a warm but windy Wednesday, two little doves happily sunbathed on the grass out the front of the children's cubby house

* The coriander that I thought had died last year is once again alive and flourishing and ready to season big bowls of summer guacamole

* All the dormant trees are budding into life. The pomegranate tree is beyond budding - it has exploded into spring green

* Bluebells! Bluebells everywhere!

* One of my original camellia bushes has gone to god

The warm spring-rain was way too persistent for my tiny little cactus-in-a-pot, so I brought it inside, and that's what inspired this round of prickly mail-art. Once I got onto a cactus-and-succulent roll, it was hard to stop. These little guys are just so fun to draw!