Paris was a whirl of light and textures. Every day was dripped through with wonder of some sort. Each started with grey skies and ended with sore feet. My sketchbook was abandoned for days and yet each hour I found a hundred things I wished to record in it. I’ve never been very enthusiastic about city holidays, but Paris won me over. There’s something thrilling about the ease of slipping into a foreign flow of life.
I look forward to sharing the journal I sketched (still finishing it up), and the notes I took, and the inspiration I left with for a new series of illustrations!