Recently, while swimming through the mass of detritus my grandfather, Cedric Piggot, left in the wake of his life (a long life), I picked up one of many treasures. A disintegrating box containing a set of rubber letter stamps. The majority of the set is made of smaller letters which are to be picked up with tweezers and arranged in metal and wood holders. These are ideal for short phrases or individual words—ideal for brief linearities due to the tedious labour of sentence composition, the fragility of the stamps and the constricted linear nature of the stamp holders. Also part of the set are a heap of larger hard plastic letter stamps which are great for loose and free letter composition, perfect for concrete / visual work.
My grandfather was a surveyor. He was a man who loved to work with his hands, work with wood, with metal, with dirt; a man who loved to make, measure, repair. We always got along well. He spoke to me freely and with joy, an experience most people in my family never met with. I was grateful then that he and I had that connection, and I am certainly grateful that we shared memories and joys now that he’s gone. It is beautiful that now our conversations continue through my work and his tools. I know he would be pleased and perplexed to see his things put to use in such unorthodox ways. I love you Papa. Goodnight.