When I'd first arrived in Lacoste, France, I had brought with me only small art supplies — quills, inks, brushes, pencils, erasers; I was traveling light so figured I'd buy large, fragile papers in France. (I don't need a lot of arm-twisting to have to buy art supplies in other countries!)
However, I wanted to go out sketching before I had had a chance to buy any paper. So I rummaged around and found a piece of cardboard to which I glued torn pieces of newspaper. I prepped the surface and headed down the road to Pont Julien.
It was early September and the river had all but dried up. On one side of the bridge was a large pool, the sole sign that water had once flowed through this rocky riverbed. I was struck by the juxtaposition of lights and darks, positives and negatives. I worked with a quill and ink, and this was the result.
However, I wanted to go out sketching before I had had a chance to buy any paper. So I rummaged around and found a piece of cardboard to which I glued torn pieces of newspaper. I prepped the surface and headed down the road to Pont Julien.
It was early September and the river had all but dried up. On one side of the bridge was a large pool, the sole sign that water had once flowed through this rocky riverbed. I was struck by the juxtaposition of lights and darks, positives and negatives. I worked with a quill and ink, and this was the result.