Message in a Bottle Series
My father was many things, and one of them was a letter writer. After he passed in 2020, I reveled in his many letters to me over the years. I thought about his unique turns of phrase, his attempts at poetry, at comedy, his familiar scrawl (Dad having been a doctor—with a tremor, no less!), as well as the many folded clippings he’d include on subjects like How to Change your Tire or exhibitions at the Cleveland Museum of Art.
It appears my father came by his letter-writing naturally – something I didn’t know until I went home for his funeral service and discovered a box I hadn’t seen before. The box contained hundreds of letters from his father to my grandmother. These letters were written on the delicate papers used by the U.S. Expeditionary Forces when my grandfather was a soldier during WWI. My grandfather eventually died young, at 46 years old, so we had never met. I grabbed that box to bring back to California.
I began incorporating fragments of these family letters and postcards and photos into my fledgling mixed media work. One day I noticed a bottle shape appear on a painting. Somehow the paint and the collaged materials had been abstracted just right, without any intent on my part. Serendipitously my father’s handwriting seemed to pop out right where a bottle’s label might ordinarily be. I felt goose bumps, followed by the thought, “it’s like a message from my dad through time and space.”
And then I thought, “Oh! It’s a message in a bottle!”
And so began a series in which the bottle image serves as a container to store, transport and deliver messages and expressions of various kinds. This series is taking me on a journey of discovery and connection – both artistic and personal, one equal parts surprising, poignant and fun. I continue pursuing my passion for beauty, but in a deeply personal form. The work, typically titled by a phrase from a letter, is a way to explore the nature of self and lineage, as well as themes of isolation, connection and love that are recurrent in my father’s and grandfather’s letters. I try to work spontaneously, with gestural strokes and marks, and a passion for color. I use layers of acrylic, graphite, crayon, my own hand-painted fabrics, paper, and found objects, along with family letters, postcards and photos.
Take Me Out of the Blue
This sub-series is inspired by words written by my young grandfather A.C. Brook to his “sweetheart” Goldie (my grandmother) while he was a soldier in WWI. These letters opened a portal for me onto moments in the life of someone whom I never met (he died before I was born) yet now carry with me in spirit. The loneliness of war, its terrifying implications, are given expression in these letters in part by a desperation for correspondence back from my grandmother. He would often beg her for letters, would share his tally of days since last receiving one, and would even blame the post office when that tally grew too long. The drip of time and the weight of mortality were quite clearly on his mind, and hearing from his “wifey” seems the only thing that could save him from his state.
This sub-series was inspired by the poetic, poignant, and powerful expression of disconnection and isolation, one felt by so many whether in times of war, a global pandemic, or simply everyday life. Despite this, my grandfather continually expressed hope for the next communication. And I envision the joy he felt when he finally received it. In the Take Me Out of the Blue series, I try to reflect both the sunny possibility of reconnecting as well as the darker shades—“the Blue”— the longing and gloom that can befall us.
— ellen brook
My father was many things, and one of them was a letter writer. After he passed in 2020, I reveled in his many letters to me over the years. I thought about his unique turns of phrase, his attempts at poetry, at comedy, his familiar scrawl (Dad having been a doctor—with a tremor, no less!), as well as the many folded clippings he’d include on subjects like How to Change your Tire or exhibitions at the Cleveland Museum of Art.
It appears my father came by his letter-writing naturally – something I didn’t know until I went home for his funeral service and discovered a box I hadn’t seen before. The box contained hundreds of letters from his father to my grandmother. These letters were written on the delicate papers used by the U.S. Expeditionary Forces when my grandfather was a soldier during WWI. My grandfather eventually died young, at 46 years old, so we had never met. I grabbed that box to bring back to California.
I began incorporating fragments of these family letters and postcards and photos into my fledgling mixed media work. One day I noticed a bottle shape appear on a painting. Somehow the paint and the collaged materials had been abstracted just right, without any intent on my part. Serendipitously my father’s handwriting seemed to pop out right where a bottle’s label might ordinarily be. I felt goose bumps, followed by the thought, “it’s like a message from my dad through time and space.”
And then I thought, “Oh! It’s a message in a bottle!”
And so began a series in which the bottle image serves as a container to store, transport and deliver messages and expressions of various kinds. This series is taking me on a journey of discovery and connection – both artistic and personal, one equal parts surprising, poignant and fun. I continue pursuing my passion for beauty, but in a deeply personal form. The work, typically titled by a phrase from a letter, is a way to explore the nature of self and lineage, as well as themes of isolation, connection and love that are recurrent in my father’s and grandfather’s letters. I try to work spontaneously, with gestural strokes and marks, and a passion for color. I use layers of acrylic, graphite, crayon, my own hand-painted fabrics, paper, and found objects, along with family letters, postcards and photos.
This sub-series is inspired by words written by my young grandfather A.C. Brook to his “sweetheart” Goldie (my grandmother) while he was a soldier in WWI. These letters opened a portal for me onto moments in the life of someone whom I never met (he died before I was born) yet now carry with me in spirit. The loneliness of war, its terrifying implications, are given expression in these letters in part by a desperation for correspondence back from my grandmother. He would often beg her for letters, would share his tally of days since last receiving one, and would even blame the post office when that tally grew too long. The drip of time and the weight of mortality were quite clearly on his mind, and hearing from his “wifey” seems the only thing that could save him from his state.
This sub-series was inspired by the poetic, poignant, and powerful expression of disconnection and isolation, one felt by so many whether in times of war, a global pandemic, or simply everyday life. Despite this, my grandfather continually expressed hope for the next communication. And I envision the joy he felt when he finally received it. In the Take Me Out of the Blue series, I try to reflect both the sunny possibility of reconnecting as well as the darker shades—“the Blue”— the longing and gloom that can befall us.
— ellen brook