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19 April 2017

Lost, Found, and Made

On Sketchbooks

I RECENTLY MISPLACED A SKETCHBOOK. Not one of my more precious ones, it was small and pocketable enough to bring with me without a backpack and a pack of sanguine pencils. A paper Moleskin, I treated it as less precious, which is why I drew in it with ordinary graphite, which I always have in my pocket. Not that I was cavalier about it, and misplacing a sketchbook is, for those of us who rely on them, a constant background fear. So not finding it on a day when I wanted to take it with me, I rifled through my two backpacks, jacket pockets, piles of books, to no avail.

After a week I’d gotten used to the idea that I’d lost it; or maybe it was stolen, certainly not for its own sake but because pickpockets are rife in Rome. But coming to Lucca for Easter I put on a warmer jacket for the Vigil mass, and there it was, grazie Dio. I then remembered that I’d brought it to show the shop where I was having a new leather-bound sketchbook made. Several years ago, before we bought an apartment in Lucca, I was in town with my students and found a leather shop that made beautiful books with handmade Amalfi paper. After working in it for years mostly in sanguine, occasionally adding black chalk, it was nearing its last pages and I was ready for a new one.

How wonderful, in this plastic, mass-produced or outsourced world, to have something like this made for you. Officina della Pelle is a thriving shop, actually three, in Lucca that makes a variety of leather goods. When you begin using a sketchbook I would advocate using an un-precious one, so as not to be intimidated when drawing, afraid to make a mistake. But when the habit becomes a pleasure, and the work in the book reaches a quality that merits it, a lovely book is actually a spur to drawing even better—and lately, for me, more adventurously.


The food world has been remarkably successful in the last few decades at promoting local and organic food—from produce to cheeses. In the arts we’ve been less good at supporting paper makers, book binders, and other craftspeople who make the “ingredients” artists need to measure up to the past. So, if you know one, indulge in spending a little more to have a book made, to use handmade paper, or work with traditionally-made oil paints. If you don’t, they will most surely be lost, and much harder to recover than my lost sketchbook.
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A recent plein air watercolor from Lucca at pleinairitaly

SKETCHING AT THE VILLA REALE, MARLIA, LUCCA









09 March 2017

Less of a Challenge: UPDATE

The Challenge of Emulation Coming Way Down in Price

Publishing with an academic-oriented publisher like Ashgate (now Routledge) has its advantages, primarily that one can make a properly academic argument without being challenged as to whether it is “accessible” enough. The downside, though, is that the relative disinterest in accessibility means that the market for the books is rather small, and so the publisher’s business model is to market the book in relatively small quantities at a high price to university libraries and others who can afford to pay. Not being a publisher myself, I wonder whether the high price is the chicken or the egg with regard to low sales. It is what it is, as they say. Now, though, it appears on the Routledge website that The Challenge of Emulation will be out in paperback before long, and is available for pre-order, which means, I hope, that the artists and architects for whom it was largely written can now afford to buy it.

Lege Feliciter, as Alberti said to his readers.


David