Extracts from an extraordinary correspondence.

To Griffin
I was lying in that easy state between sleep and wake when the image of a half drawn flower came into my head. Gradually it grew and changed, lines appeared and disappeared, it was so real and clear. I could see the picture but not the hand that created it. Eventually a noise from outside broke my concentration and the image evaporated. It was your drawing Griffin. The first hundred pictures I witnessed without knowing who made them. For 13 years I have waited for a clue, anything that would help me to locate the artist. You seemed destined to be a mystery forever, when a few months ago I came across an article in Grafica about a one man post card company. It said the art was all “Moss's own work,” and there was a photo of your fish card. It was the same piece I'd seen being drawn three years before. Finally I knew who you were. I counselled myself to be cautious and find out what you were really like before revealing myself fully.

Sabine


To Sabine
I'm kicking myself for not figuring out that you were the stamp designer. Looking back at the cards it is obvious. When I saw the parrot card for the first time I assumed you had copied from the stamp. I apologize for so underestimating your talents. What a great job you have. You wouldn't care to swap, would you? The college geometric paintings of mine had no hidden language to them. They were an example of what happens when you take an interesting concept through to its ultimate conclusion. It's meaningless. Forget about them; it embarrasses me to think about them. Art for arts sake is best left here in the old world. I crave an art that crosses the everyday instead of being a device for self deception.
Griffin.

(adapted from Griffin and Sabine by Nick Bantock)