The act of opening a greeting card, writing a note, putting it in the envelope, addressing it, and mailing it. These are not fast actions. They take time, planning, and care.
In a world that moves quickly and often makes us think we need to match that pace, many of us are craving slower, analog experiences. Using a favorite pencil or pen. Feeling the touch of pen to paper as you write. Making mistakes that can’t be removed with a delete button.
For me, the journey to creating letterpress stationery was a natural evolution of wanting to slow down myself while also using my background to encourage others to pause and connect more mindfully.
The medium of letterpress spoke to me as a way to learn and continue a historic craft that requires time and attention — and creates something that moves directly from my hands to yours to theirs.
Letterpress: process over production
Letterpress naturally requires me to be present in the process. Working with heavy machinery that is over 100 years old, I have to be careful, thoughtful, and aware.
My particular process is slower as well. I use a treadle-operated press. I feed every card myself and print one at a time. I produce small batches.
Though I design on a laptop, I often refine the work on the press, letting the craft, the machinery, and the materials inform the final result.
That’s part of why letterpress resonates with so many people.
It reflects a desire to experience the physicality of a craft. A way of making that isn’t centered on speed and volume but on presence.
The “feel” of letterpress
One of the first things people notice when holding a letterpress greeting card is how it feels. The cotton paper I use has a natural softness. Often, the impression can be felt with your fingertips.
Open to Being cards carry heartfelt messages, so receiving one becomes more than just reading words. The card becomes something to hold onto.
A beautiful, handcrafted greeting card might live on a refrigerator, desk, bookshelf, or bedside table, reminding someone, in a quiet and tangible way, that they are loved, remembered, celebrated, or cared for.
For anyone who loves art, craft, beautiful materials, or thoughtful rituals, letterpress offers something grounding. It brings us back into our senses.
Letterpress is rooted in words
The practice of letterpress is rooted in printing text — letters, words, phrases, and punctuation. That’s part of what drew me to this medium. It is a tactile, historical, and beautiful way to bring words to paper.
Letterpress is a form of relief printing, but it specifically refers to printing done on presses developed for movable type. The process remains grounded in that history.
Designing a greeting card, for me, is all about the message. I approach it like writing poetry.
Many Open to Being cards use very few words and minimal or no illustration. I pay close attention to the rhythm of the phrases so they slow you down and invite you to reflect, wonder, or remember.
I’m interested in creating space around words so they feel elegant, and so the card itself feels like a small piece of art.
Typography, spacing, paper, and placement all become part of the emotional experience of receiving the card.
I also appreciate the irony that letterpress was invented to print faster than writing by hand — and I now use it to create cards that encourage people to write slowly, by hand.
The person behind the press
One of the things I love most about letterpress, printed the way I do, is the evidence of the maker.
The slight variations in impression and ink in handcrafted stationery are reminders that a human being made it, in real time, with real materials, paying attention along the way.
The press and I are in conversation with each other, and that relationship becomes part of the finished piece.
I learn something every time I’m at the press. Not just about the process, but about myself. I connect more deeply with myself through this work.
I think that’s part of why artisanal practices are resonating with people right now. They create beautiful objects, but they also remind us of our humanity.
Letterpress is analog
When you choose a letterpress greeting card, you’re saying more than the words on the card.
You are telling the recipient they matter enough for you to slow down, put your phone down, and write a personal note.
You’re choosing a tactile experience. You’re supporting craft and artists.
You’re making a real, human, analog connection.
For me, letterpress is so much more than a printing method. It’s a practice that creates space for presence — in the making, sending, experiencing, and receiving.
Slow down. Express. Connect.
