I found this old sketchbook of mine a few weeks ago and I was drawn to the torn pages and layers of paint.
The book itself was a battered old book on French composition I found in a junk shop. I did A’Level French and just about scraped a pass, so maybe the fact that I painted over many of the pages has some underlying meaning. The drawings were based on drawings from some of the Old Masters, and I can remember really enjoying the feel of the pencil against the emulsion painted surface.
Feel that drawing urge maybe about to strike again.
I had also found these images from somewhere, and painted over them.
I sort of feel like her at the moment a bit flighty and ethereal – not quite of this planet x