Through drawing, I gain a particularly intimate access to the atmosphere of the city.
I love letting myself drift through it. Letting scents, sounds, noises, snatches of conversation, or shadowy figures lure me into wide, light-filled streets, hidden passageways, and hidden courtyards, and lingering where my gaze catches a special detail.
My pen is already gliding across the paper of my sketchbook, and little by little the entire building is revealed to me. Color is added.
A child asks me what I am doing and why.
"I like the house. Look at that special color on the facade. Just look at how unusually the windows are arranged. It must have happened that way because the house is very old and has been remodeled many times over the centuries." The child notices that some windows are pointed at the top and some are round, and we start talking about the different architectural styles.
The grandmother comes over and explains that inside the house there are beautifully painted wooden ceilings from the 17th century, which she now wants to show the child.
Delighted by two hours of intensive observation and drawing of a building that shapes the cityscape, I close my sketchbook and rejoice in my new treasure. I cast one last complicit glance at the building and smile.
