I was looking through my “unread books” box trying to decide which I would read. I was thinking something non-fiction so it didn’t feel like I was skiving but it was to be something not too heavy duty.
So not the biography of Giacometti, something with more pictures. Definitely not “Understanding Line, Notan and Colour” by Arthur Wesley Dow, a reprint of a 1920 book. Perhaps “Vincent’s Trees” by Ralph Skea, given the beautiful autumnal colours at the moment and the enjoyment I get from Can Gogh’s paintings, drawings and words.
Enter the in-house art critic, who says: “Are you looking for a book that needs to be read with a pencil?”
Astute. Apt. And ever able to locate a suitable pencil.
