LOVE LETTERS

In four decades of living with Dave Connors I can only recall two times when I heard him passionately and forcefully raise his voice. Once was as a coach on the ball field, defending one of his teenage softball players. The other was in the cafeteria of the Junior High, defending his son. I had arrived late for parent/teacher conference and when I entered the room I thought I heard my husband’s voice, but it didn’t register because it was so out of character for him to be at that pitch and that volume. I must have a husband-homing device, because it didn’t look like anyone else noticed it, except the teacher, of course. I found David in a heated discussion with our son John’s English teacher. I don’t even recall his name, but he had a particularly elementary attitude about the importance of spelling in creative writing. What started out as an amenable interchange turned into a little philosophical brawl, the teacher defending the value of correct spelling, and David defending the importance of safely expressing creative thought without the hovering stick of an editor restraining the writer. I slipped over to their table and listened, proud of what I heard my husband saying. “If you insist that this talented thinker worry about being punished for misspelling, he will train himself to use safe words rather than accurate ones. We are not willing to let you do that. He is a gifted writer, and a true thinker, and we will not let you squelch that creative brilliance over something like spelling.” It’s not that we don’t appreciate the value of correct spelling in a finished piece, but when one is in the process of creating, spelling must not play a role. The editor gets to come play after the creator is done. I don’t recall how the whole thing resolved itself. I do know, however, that this boy ended up being a lover of words, and a fine wordsmith. He has the heart of a poet, with a large diverse play list perpetually spinning in his brain, and he’s one of the most creatively gifted humans I know.

Everyone has a story.

The thing about creative people, at least the ones I’ve encountered, is that in the process of owning that piece of genius bestowed on them at birth, they tend to grow a little off center, like unpruned trees that have a split trunk where one side takes over and throws things off balance. John appears pretty balanced, at least on the outside. Not that he doesn’t have his quirks, like the rest of us. He has exceptional social skills, and unlike many introverted creatives, he has real interest in other people and how they think and work. He has this way of leaning into you in a conversation, especially if you are new to him. Like a magnet, he draws people’s gifts out, as if they were little shreds of metal shavings. He is able to see their gifts, and appreciate them. So, it is no surprise that he has made a career of assembling talents and making something of the collection. His latest venture seems the perfect marriage of his talents. He has gathered together the raw materials of human communication: Letters - and wrapped them in their finest most creative dress: Art. 

Larger than life.

For months I have watched, from my distant maternal perch, this boy-turned-man rotate on the axis of the English alphabet. All through the winter and spring I made weekly stops at thrift stores, purchasing 100 pounds of books at a time, buying them by weight from the Goodwill store, and storing them on our back porch in stacks and stacks of boxes. Each time we stopped at John and Ashley’s house there was some new creation in process: a scene from Alice in Wonderland sculpted from pages of the book; a large literary arch of books reinforced with metal rebar; wood carved letter blocks. Their home was a wonderland of creative process always in the works. Kudos to Ashley for understanding the messiness of creativity. Blessings on their children for getting to swirl in that space.

John in the rainbow library.

This week we took our family to the finished product, the culmination of this creative assemblage: LOVE LETTERS. At the Gateway Mall, where Coldwater Creek and The Gap used to be, the space has been transformed into an artful intimate look at our relationship with letters. He and his friend, renowned letter artist Becca Clason, have orchestrated a symphony of letter artists from around the world, shining a spotlight on each of their particular talents, and at the same time introducing we plain old humans to the magic that is around us every day. I am reminded how magical it is for us, in this juncture of time, to have access to beauty without hardly trying. The Love Letters Museum is an aesthetically moving reminder that we are blessed with 26 pieces of raw material with which we create unlimited things of beauty, or pain, or tragedy, or grace. Like the collection of our limited number of music notes creates unlimited magic in all its forms, so do Letters. We use them daily, on paper and audibly, stringing them together in our own way, with our own distinct patterns. I came out of LOVE LETTERS with a quiet reverence for them, for the role they play in my personal life, grateful for the tool they are in my relationships. 

Gracie learns to stamp her name.

I am reminded that we are all wordsmiths, and understanding that makes me a more conscientious steward over the tools of my trade. Even more, I am moved by the brilliance and beauty of a world of artists I had not known before, whose work stirs me. I am in awe of their gifts, as they work with the holy trinity of a visual artist: the heart, the mind and the hands. Its apparent they mold their letters with love.

Click HERE to see more about Love Letters Museum: An interactive art exhibit encouraging guests of all ages to use letters, words and art to tell their story. It's only in SLC until mid-September.

My favorite people on
giant letter blocks that move.

Goofy kiddos

You can visit wonderful exotic places and never leave your couch.

Write a letter to someone you love and they will mail it for you

John and his buddy Sophie, a partner in creative crime!

Ruby slides down the pages of Alice in Wonderland.

There is a magical art gallery where artists
were invited to paint from one of their favorite
children's books. You can open some of the paintings
and peek into a tiny spaces, one of them a
replica of the room you're in.
(or, as Anna has done here, you can enter that space!)

Tiny kids in a tiny room.

In the end, there is a large paper shredder
inviting us to let go of our mistakes

Calvin makes his own button,

My brother, George,
constructs with letters.

this wonderful exhibit lets you
walk through words, literally.

Before we can construct some things,
we must first deconstruct the norm.

Watch how this changes as you walk past it.

Thank you, Uncle John.