Eliza Holliday Letterist.com: Love Letters 2012

Saturday, February 4, 2012

Love Letters 2012

This valentine girl is reaching for her 21st year in the Love Letters business!

Happy Valentines Day and consider hiring a Letterist for handlettering for products and packaging, customized logos and custom alphabets, calligraphic paintings and sculptures, teaching lettering, wordpainting and the bookarts.

And Thank You those who gave me a call in 2011!

1 comment:

UnknownApril 19, 2012 at 12:15 PM
Loved seeing the array of your work, especially pieces with which I was familiar or had copies of hanging around in my life places (home, classrooms). You bring a lyrical line to everything you touch -- d.
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A Speech to the Garden Club of America

Thank you. I’m glad to know we’re friends, of course;
There are so many outcomes that are worse.
But I must add I’m sorry for getting here
By a sustained explosion through the air,
Burning the world in fact to rise much higher
Than we should go. The world may end in fire
As prophesied—our world! We speak of it
As “fuel” while we burn it in our fit
Of temporary progress, digging up
An antique dark-held luster to corrupt
The present light with smokes and smudges, poison
To outlast time and shatter comprehension.
Burning the world to live in it is wrong,
As wrong as to make war to get along
And be at peace, to falsify the land
By sciences of greed, or by demand
For food that’s fast or cheap to falsify
The body’s health and pleasure—don’t ask why.
But why not play it cool? Why not survive
By Nature’s laws that still keep us alive?
Let us enlighten, then, our earthly burdens
By going back to school, this time in gardens
That burn no hotter than the summer day.
By birth and growth, ripeness, death and decay,
By goods that bind us to all living things,
Life of our life, the garden lives and sings.
The Wheel of Life, delight, the fact of wonder,
Contemporary light, work, sweat, and hunger
Bring food to table, food to cellar shelves.
A creature of the surface, like ourselves,
The garden lives by the immortal Wheel
That turns in place, year after year, to heal
It whole. Unlike our economic pyre<
That draws from ancient rock a fossil fire,
An anti-life of radiance and fume
That burns as power and remains as doom,
The garden delves no deeper than its roots
And lifts no higher than its leaves and fruits.