iwriteloveletters

Writing is my earliest remembered passion (followed closely by Mariah Careys 1994 Christmas Album). Never has it been the kind of clean, grammatically correct, impersonal type though. More the type that has been hard to wrangle. That is wild and doesn’t ask to be controlled (the type that could probably do with an Editor in its life!). It has always been a place to explore what is inside & express for expressions sake. It has layers of light, humour & play, curiosity, fear, joy, love & deep spirals of knowingness beyond understanding. For the most part it has been hard to know what it wants with me. An entanglement of both the depth of meaning and meaninglessness of words…as it begins & ends in the death of thought. Here I recognise that as soon as it is imagined into form, it is immediately restricted and reduced. Its complexity, simplified. Contained to the life of a sentence on a page. The reckoning around what my duty of care is to its integrity has been one of the strangest and most interesting relationships in my life. BUT here I am writing it anyway…because maybe the place from which the voice of my writer comes from, is the same place I know can never truly be understood in my humanness. The truth of what I am, showing me a taste of itself. All logical interpretation useless in the face of it.

As such, and to not take you down the rabbit-hole with me today haha, I share this as a tribute to the writer in me. A stepping aside to let it take on its own form now. A trusting that it knows, even if I don’t.

I have recently been printing my Images in postcard format and am looking to provide these as offerings alongside written love-letters…as well as share more of my projects & writing here! Watch this space x