Type A, Much?

I don't know when I became such a fan of letterpress, but I can't imagine life now with out it.  Bison Bookbinding (distributed via Parnassas) is awesome and tonight in perusing their site I found this gem and I'm even more im-"pressed".  Bison, I didn't know we shared a mantra.  Cheers!

To the Letter

I have studied Willa Cather in at least two English courses.  Until this (insomnia ridden) morning, I didn't realize she was from Nebraska.  This article in The New York Times by Jennifer Schuessler was a fascinating reveal in that 566 of Cather's letters will be published in an anthology later this month.  (Side note:  Cather didn't want her personal correspondence published.)

I love letters and I enjoy reading old correspondence, especially that found in a random book at a remote used bookstore, however I an not quite certain how I feel about this release.  Several of you know I have been following this recent news item about the publication of the HeLa genome without the family's prior consent.    

This morning's 3:30 ethical ponder:  at what point does the greater public understanding trump the personal decision?  

Author's note:  Please don't publish any personal correspondence which contains really bad puns.

Down to the Letter

I give credit to @WendyMonday for discovery of "Letters of Note: Correspondence deserving of a wider audience."  Those of you that know me know I am a fan of letters and have a random collection floating about in shoe boxes, stacks, and one very full Pottery Barn case taken from the Tammy Wynette spelling song (apologies for the inside joke).  The site is a collection of letters, postcards, or any written media which can be authenticated.  I offer a nod to Shaun Usher for his selections.  Later this year, the collection of correspondence will be assembled into a book.  This will sit on my shelf alongside My Faraway One.

My favorites thus far are my discovery post (and intro to the site) "I Love My Wife.  My Wife is Dead.", a letter by Richard Freynman to his wife.  I've lost track of the number of times I've re-read this letter.  I'm also a fan (like many others) of  "I Like Words" a letter to Hollywood from Robert Pirosh.  The opening line includes "buttery".  How can you resist?

Letter Opener

Last night I dreamed I left my Kindle at the library. I think my subconscious was trying to remind me to read more and Excel less. With a tightly packed week, I have had just enough time to review a few letters from My Faraway One: Selected Letters of Georgia O'Keeffe and Alfred Stieglitz mentioned here.

I'm sharing opening excerpts from two letters to begin your day. One selected because it was written 95 years ago today; the other chosen for the romantics among us.

Alfred Stieglitz, September 28, 1916

[Lake George, NY]

It is another day. - Afternoon. - Another perfect day. But not so varied - not so exciting. - Blue sky - a perfectly calm smooth Lake - brilliant sunlight & milder in temperature.

Georgia O'Keeffe, December 10, 1916

[Canyon, TX] written on paper 24" x 17"

Sunday - Sunset.

I'd like to write you with letters about two feet high -

But maybe that would be a bit high -

My Baby Wrote Me a Letter

There are two types of packages on the doorstep which make my list of awesomeness: shoes and books.

I was a lucky girl this week and have received one box of each. When I ordered My Faraway One, I neglected to check the weight so I underestimated the amount of arm strength necessary to pick up the brown box while carrying work bag, yoga mat, purse, new Pumas (see above), coffee mug and water bottle. At 4.4 pounds, it will test your balance.

Last night I started reading the work in no particular order. With only a few editorial updates (as apparently O'Keefe was a terrible speller), the letters I read examined the mundane, their respective arts, the locales, and that emerging affection which made this collection possible.

Won't You Write Me a Letter, Won't You Give Me a Call?

"All I want is to preserve that wonderful something which so purely exists between us."

- Alfred Stieglitz

As several of you know, I am a romantic. I am also a fan of posted mail and enjoy writing the occasional letter. As a teen, I sent bi-weekly notes to the "love" of my life and waited each day to see if I would receive a brown envelope in return. As an adult, I have had only one other experience where note writing was abundant and felt urgent and necessary.

In 31 years, Georgia O'Keefe and Alfred Stiegliz exchanged letters over 5,000 times. A total of 25,000 pages existed and a portion of these has just been released in My Faraway One, Selected Letters of Georgia O'Keefe and Alfred Stiegliz: Volume 1, 1913-1933. The above quotation was taken from one of those letters in 1918. Sarah Greenough is due credit as editor for this edition (which I will be ordering in just a few short moments in hard cover as Kindle just does not seem appropriate).

While waiting for delivery, perhaps I will make time to write a few letters and listen to the artist from whom I've taken the title, John Prine.