love letters…

I’ve been thinking a lot about words lately. The words we say and what they mean. Words that sit in between spaces. The power of words to harm or to heal. A kind word. A thoughtful word. The right words at the right time.

Sometimes I can lack confidence in my words. I chatter stuff and nonsense very well but the written forever word? Well that can seem quite daunting. Its permanence and capacity to insight ideas or change. The written word feels as though it should be meticulously planned, carefully considered and something to behold (or to be told?) Until quite suddenly it wasn’t. And that lack of confidence flip-flopped in an instant.

I left my thinking book (sunshine bright yellow moleskin, should you need to know) on our kitchen table a few weeks ago. In plain sight, in the wild and open to the elements of family life. Somewhere in and amongst that busy week I quietly acquired a new pen pal guiding my thoughts on words and writing like a tiny beam of green inky light:

“love you Mum”.

It was a deja vu moment for me, having written tiny post-it-note love letters to my own dear Mum since I was 19 years old. Back then I would hide them around our family home between visits and holidays, from me to her, and likewise would find them tucked into my luggage and notebooks, from her to me. Occasionally my Dad would hop on the post-it-note bandwagon too, but mostly it was a quite and constant conversation between Mum and me.

I have so many of these tiny faded squares; their capacity to hold so little and yet say so very much. Small moments of time taken to remind me that I am loved. To keep going. To enjoy the week ahead. To take good care. That I will be missed at Sunday lunch that week.

And they are quite simply perfection.

So I’ve set myself the honour of letter pressing some of Mums best sentiments, in ambiguity, to honour all of our often unspoken words. Simple sentences that are made to be shared and quietly tucked into a jacket pocket or slipped under the sill of a door. Casually posted from here to there. A tiny moment of love, care and wonder, hand pressed onto beautiful papers by me.

I make it sound quite simple and effortless but the dark art of letterpress has been such a learning curve. Much like rubbing your tummy while patting your head everything is in perfect mirror image and feels a bit odd to my right side attuned brain.

I am ever grateful to my friend Cam, aka the Potty Mouthed Printer, who has had patience in spades, allowing me to wobble my conductor and mismatch my teeny tiny letters aplenty. To the kindest print soul, Glenn, who has shown me how to care for the press and seek the nuance in its delicate registration. THE ultimate print gurus I am so grateful for their time, patience, tutelage and penchant for breakfast club pastries - long may this remain in our futures!

This naughty-brilliant-print duo have encouraged the student in me to explore, to do and to try, to mess it all up often but with such enthusiasm that I am excited to have invested in my very own Adana printing press that I have named Elsie. An oldie but a goodie I will be swishing about the studio to accommodate Elsie’s home coming next week!

I will be dropping a series of these special love letters in September, when I have survived the school holidays, so be sure to keep an eye on my socials for more of the daily musings and general madness. Of which I seem to have plenty!

With love and (clickity-clacking-print-press) madness from the mountain, Cath x