La Rochelle 1928

This print of La Rochelle by William Washington is a symphony in sepia, etched with the finest of lines. I wonder about Washington as he made it. Was he out there, buffeted by the salty winds, squinting at the stone and masts? Look at the busyness of the scene: the workers rendered as tiny strokes, the sails like delicate lace against the sky. I can imagine him, leaning in, scratching away at the plate with a kind of focused intensity. Think of how many decisions go into something like this, each line a commitment, a whisper of light and shadow. Washington’s choice of medium here – the etching – it’s like a dance between control and chance. It's all about the surface, the texture, the way the ink clings to the paper. It reminds me of Whistler's etchings, the same attention to atmospheric detail. It makes you think about the conversations artists have with one another, across time, inspiring and challenging. How do we make our mark? How do we see the world and translate it into something tangible, something that speaks?