A letter from the writer of The Great Gatsby, F.Scott Fitzgerald to a fan asking for a photograph.

August 11, 1939

I’m terribly sorry but I haven’t had a picture taken for about twelve years. This is no stall. I think now that I shall wait until it’s time for a death mask because I’m in that unattractive middle-aged phase that doesn’t seem safe to record for prosperity. (This is not a misprint)

After finding the letter sent from my mums uncle during the war I have also found documents that though may seem irrelevant should be posted with it.

Mail art by William Schaff, his way of brightening up the world of post. Click on the link for similar envelopes and his other work.

Link:
http://flickr.com/photos/samsa1973/sets/1247708/

An old letter sent from one of my mum's uncles while he was at war. Feels quite odd reading it.

Extracts from a short story in Bret Easton Ellis's The Informers. The story is told in a series of letters going one way as the recipient does not reply. Through the series of letters we see the change of personality of the writer.


'And everything seems so clean and to move much more slowly in a very relaxed way. But yet I don't feel too safe here yet. I feel vulnerable-like I'm in this big open environment. I look at all these people roaming around: the beautiful, healthy, tan men and the elegant women and everyone drives a Mercedes and it's just so hard to describe it.'


'Jan 29 1984
Dear Sean,
Doesn't it seem like a long time since I've written you? I guess I'm not much into it anymore. Well, I'm still around and alive, so don't worry. Can you believe I'm actually staying here? That I've already been here five months? Oh God. Well, I guess I won't be going back to Camden in the fall. I've gotten so used to things out here.'

For a medium I thought it would be interesting to look at 'the letter' as it seems many think the art of writing one is lost in this modern age. I hope to try and create a space where letters written in the past can be saved and be reread again by many. From the desk of one prolific artist to another, to the men and women who worked for the post office themselves just trying to keep in touch with old friends. And yes I am aware of the irony - using modern technology to archive such a now unused medium.