Novels. Novels bore me to death. Always have and probably always will. As a kid I used to read in the big art books we had at home. They were full of wonderful images and amazing stories. Stories about how Géricault kept rotting horses heads under his bed. Stories about van Gogh cutting his ear. Stories about how Lautrec had a custom walking stick made in order to be able to hide booze in it. I couldn't get enough of those stories and I couldn't wait to grow up and become a tortured, neurotic artist myself. I became an illustrator-with-a-communication-disorder instead.Close enough.Born near Paris and living nearly twenty years in Amsterdam, I'm a vector addict. In fact: Pierre Bézier is my hero. Furthuremore I'm in love with my drawing tablet, an ageing Wacom Intuos A3 (but that's ok, I'm not getting younger either). That it then. Cheers.
This is a commissioned image about how retaining a "hollyday feeling" after returning to work kan keep people from being stressed and getting ill.
