I’ve always been interested in the kind of writing people do when they’ve not been asked to write. More so when the recipient is someone to love.
Besides a lack of self-consciousness, I want to know what written letters of love – with all their physical permanence, tactility and singularity – can imply for the writer: (i) The direct connection of mind to mind, (ii) That you can be frank and free, and (iii) A chance to articulate both pleasure and pain
I also think of all the things that work against letter writing and make it an unfortunate form of emotional capital often overlooked in modern day, I suppose, amongst more sophisticated methods of communication. Things like our current inclination towards informality and succinctness. The preference for image over text. The fear of giving away too much.
It’s taken a good two years to get this collection from paper to fabric to runway. We struggled so hard to get it off the ground, and it just never seemed meant to be. Thankfully though, through the various translations that I had to leave behind, both my mind and heart eventually opened to the idea of writing from the heart and then setting that writing free.
Love Letters is about the recovery, in this modern mass of communication, of faith and belief, and of the very promise that when you commit pen to paper, sometimes the world gives you back gifts of immeasurable beauty.
Close your eyes and feel this.