22 Aug 20 by justatest
In Florence I treated myself to a beautifully handmade, bound, hardback drawing book of the finest paper. It was such an exquisite piece of work, I couldn't bring myself to ruin it by drawing on it.
It remained untouched in the studio for months until one day I took a saw to it, cut it up, and over time covered it with layers of gesso and oilpaint.
Typical male aggression, though I was relieved and quite pleased with the result.
To me, it looks like the scene of a crime. I'm sure any Florentine bookbinder would agree.