Dear seafaring friends,
How have the past three hundred and seventeen days treated you? I hope so desperately that you’ve been well throughout at least a good percentage of them! It is difficult to resist the blogging-monologue temptation to tell you exactly what manner of misadventures and magic have colored my past year – but in the spirit of the newly-arrived “twenties,” I will strive to dwell upon the future instead of the past.
I want to start blogging again. No, that’s not quite right – rather than simply returning to form, I intend to change the way in which I share words, pictures, and history with you.
In the five years in which I have “maintained” (a word I use loosely here) this blog, I must have attempted to reshape its overall image and identity at least ten times. I strove to keep up with the times and to adhere to changing design trends, aspiring to a digital minimalism that does not remotely reflect my fondness for visual excess.
When I considered returning to Mailbox Mermaid once more, I decided to search the depths of the British Library’s public domain historical images Flickr for inspiration – and found the perfect late nineteenth-century illustration that captured the frantic and overcrowded coral reef of ideas and whims that has emerged in my mind of late.
“Coral Bank in the Red Sea,” featured in my new blog design, hails from Robert Brown’s 1893 monographic Our Earth And Its Story: A Popular Treatise on Physical Geography. The vivid colors and intricate textures transport me to a stunningly saturated underwater fantasy, a pelagic paradise in which an endless spectrum of pictorial delights compete for the viewer’s attention – here a scattering school of fish, there a distant yet watchful shark.
What is to come on this blog (if I indeed manage to remain true to my intentions) will involve a similar ecosystem of the imagination. I fancy writing posts that sound like letters more than articles, and sharing stream-of-consciousness musings inspired by the books I read, the natural wonders I observe, and the things that I make by hand.
I aim to cultivate a collection of one-sided correspondence and create a virtual place that feels like a tranquil tidepool tucked at the edge of a halcyon lagoon. May I write to you, and share some of my maritime dreams? I do hope you’ll say yes – at least for one more post!
pure imagination ♥ the whole world is a garden ♥ odontocetes and others
diving into the wreck ♥ lost worlds ♥ pastel imperfections
It might be tempting to characterize 2018 as a “Dark Age” for my snail mail productivity and hope that a glorious Renaissance awaits me in 2019. Given the surprising amount of medieval art scholarship I’ve done in the past year, however, I would never bandy about the reductive stereotype of the “Dark Ages” lightly. In fact, just as the Middle Ages featured some truly remarkable artistic and architectural developments, I would argue that my low-letter year has included a few instances of rather satisfying envelope-crafting.
Looking back through these posts has been honestly a little frustrating, though: I remember, for example, excitedly making those dinosaur envelopes in July with very particular recipients in mind (you may know who you are) – and then not actually having the time to send the letters until months later. What a difference from January, when I put together those envelopes from the most glorious mermaid-themed paper pack and sent them off into the world days after!
I considered deleting this blog altogether a few times this year, but I think I’ll give it another concerted try and see what happens. It’s now officially been four years (four!!) since I started my pen pal journey in January 2015, and it’s always been a joy to document the art I send and receive, the friends I’ve made, and the massive assortment international stamps I’ve collected as a result. I don’t want to stop!
I know I have not been the world’s most reliable correspondent this year, but I have not stopped thinking about you, pen pals who might be reading this! And to anyone who used to write to me but hasn’t been able to for a while – please feel free to get in touch with me. I’d love to hear from you again, and I promise I won’t judge: I’ve been there myself!
(It’s probably no surprise that I’ve enjoyed reliving the Golden Age of my snail mail days by reading through my 2017, 2016, and 2015 “Year in Letters” posts – here’s hoping 2019’s list will join their illustrious ranks!)
Hidden in my mailbox this week–among the seemingly endless supply of flyers for a certain store where one likes to stop and shop–were two beautiful letters from Ireland and Germany. Seaside treasures from Emma and this amazing “tiny quasi-Regency lords and ladies writing calligraphy” stationery from my friend Katha: what a pairing! These are the last few pieces of mail I’ll be able to receive before I head off on my trip, but they’re certainly more than enough to keep me satisfied.
Every year, I resolve to read more–because why not? I spent my childhood devouring books in a matter of hours, returning from the library with my dragon-print bag packed with tens of appealing volumes. College destroyed all of my chances of reading for fun over the course of a couple of years, but I’ve been making a comeback ever since.
My book tastes are so specific that I sometimes can go through weeks of reading without finding something that really appeals to me. So far, though, January 2016’s reading list has been filled with clever characters, delicate gems of prose, and uplifting stories with just a touch (or more!) of magic…
Even the most exciting journey can mean a bit of sitting around. Traveling usually involves lots of waiting–at an airport, while riding in a train or car, hiding nervously behind a book at the bus stop, and so forth. That’s why I love bringing some of my favorite little hobbies along with me when I set off on an adventure!
My rosy-hued travel essentials include more than clothes and a toothbrush: what stationery addict could hit the road without washi tape and a travel journal?
All of the wrist braces available on the medical market today could really use a makeover: I’ve been wearing these dudes nonstop for weeks now, and would welcome a little variety. Why doesn’t anyone design cute, colorful braces for carpal tunnel sufferers? It’s not like I mind looking like Asami from Legend of Korra wearing her Equalist glove-weapon all the time, but I would go for a pastel pink or rainbow wrist brace in a heartbeat. Hey, if I’m already going to have people openly staring at me and asking what my problem is, I might as well look nice, right?