This is the last of my pictures from our week in Cornwall. Unfit and used to cycling the flattish West Midlands, I struggled, breathless and heart pounding, up the Cornish hills. It was a relief to find a gap in the hedgerows, sunlight and a composition to draw. Here I looked across a large-leafed blue-green crop extending to the hill’s edge where I could see the blades of the distant wind turbines.
As usual I started the composition in fountain pen. I worked conte crayon heavily into the wetted surface, aiming for a contrast against the lighter strokes catching the bite of the rough paper. The white crayoned clouds formed a resist which scattered the dilute ink used to shade their undersides.